On the agency list there has been a discussion of responses about “Why Ethiopia.” This got me thinking about our reasoning. It hit me that our reasoning is very scientific. We chose Ethiopia because of its status as the believed place of the human species. That means something to me. I am connected to Ethiopia in a way that I am not connected to China, Taiwain, Guatemala, or Nepal. I love anthropology. I didn’t use to give it much thought, but my super intelligent and cerebral husband is an anthropologist by degree. We have fascinating discussions about genes and cultural, etc. Yeah we don’t get out much. I love to think about the evolution of the human species and the way in which our ancestors spread out from what is now Ethiopia. Our son will have the oldest genes in the world and for my husband that is just as good as having his genes.

My husband has struggled as an anthropologist with the idea that his genes may not continue. Genes want to continue on. I had never really thought about that, nor do I think that some of my families genes should have an opportunity to continue on. I am surrounded by connections. My son was born the day before our wedding anniversary. There is a birds nest with babies outside of our bedroom window–it is a stained glass window–we can see thier shadows–the cats love that. We are all connected. Some scientists believe that all of our genes can be traced back to 4 women from Ethiopia. That amazes me and brings me to another connection or lack there of a connection.

Why don’t we feel more connected as a society. When did we become us and them and cease being us? My husband believes the downfall of our modern civilization came with agriculture. Once we started to produce for ourselves we didn’t need anyone else anymore. Once we decided we could pen up an animal and say he is mine and you can’t have him because look I have a fence–we separated ourselves. I use to not put a lot of stock in that line of thought, really how could something that has helped us survive and evolve be the downfall of our species. But now I see. I no longer have to rely on my neighbor or my community to help me survive. I can go to the store and get whatever I need, given I have the resources. It is all about us now. I try to argue that the family unit is still strong, but it isn’t. Families all live so far apart that help is hours away sometimes hours by plane.

Why do I wonder about this? Because I want my son to feel connected to us and to the world around him. But it is a world the may or may now want a connection to him. But I then look at my family–currently made up of cats and dogs and I see their connection. The cats and dogs are connected. They sleep together, they love each other. They are geneticly inclined to fear or want to eat the other, but they don’t because they are a family. They are a pack. They have responded to our love and our family will do the same with our child. We are a pack–extended family and all–they will have a connection with our child because we do. They will love and accept him into the pack because we do. Connections…

As you all know, my husband and I have become quite the home improvers. Of course we are completely new to this type of work but we are doing okay. Our kitchen is nearly complete–the cabinets are up and look great, the counters are cut yet not installed, the stove and microwave are installed. The sink works and looks awesome. The dishwasher has yet to be tested, but it looks really good. The tile backsplash is up–40 square feet of tile–and the floor is almost done–75 square feet of tile so far another 50 or so to go. I still have painting to do and that will take a while. I have to say I have a completely new found respect for tile layers. It is back breaking work and tiring. I do the detail work in the house. My husband does not have the patience or the attention to detail that I do and I prefer him to be out of the house when I am working otherwise as a man he is always over my shoulder checking what I am doing. So he played golf yesterday afternoon. He picked up his buddies and they couldn’t believe that he trusted me alone at home to lay the kitchen floor. “It’s hard” “It needs to be straight”, etc. As though a woman can’t do that type of work. Well I must say one of his buddies who is a carpenter and does rehab work came to check out my work when they got home from golf and was extremely impressed that I had managed to get all of my lines straight. Well it isn’t rocket science and our kitchen is not totally square either. He asked how I did it–“Did you just eye it?” No man–I used a square. Why do men really think that women are competent enough to do that kind of work. I am better at it than my husband and he knows it and doesn’t care.
Frustrating…

Now comes the hard part. Finishing. I am having a jewelry party on Wednesday. I can’t believe that I am planning on having 15 people over to my house. We just recently cleaned house and threw away a lot of our furniture that we didn’t like and didn’t want and now we are thinking about where people are going to sit at the party. Well we have folding chairs etc but we just really aren’t ready for entertaining. But that is okay. I will have a nearly finished kitchen–sans painting and grouted tiles–and I can cook. I love to cook and I am pretty good at it too. There is still so much to do. We still have a hardwood floor to install in our den and walls to paint and celing tiles to replace. I haven’t even begun to really think about the upstairs and the nursery yet. I am considering putting in a partial wing wall in the living room for an desing element–I haven’t told hubby this yet. I might just do it without him knowing. That would be fun. It amazes me how into my house I am not that I am a mother. I want it to look great. I want it to be nice. I have never really cared that much before. Interesting how nesting does that to you. I keep thinking about all of the get togethers we all of a sudden will be having. Birthday parties, holiday meals, etc. How will we get it all done?

I have to remember that as the precious minutes tick away and the work I have keeps piling up. I should be grading my juniors’ research papers–but I am not. I should have finished the tile backsplash last night–but I did not. I should have gone to they gym yesterday–but I didn’t. I shouldn’t be sick–but I am. I should have my final written–but I don’t. I should have lost more weight–but I haven’t. I should, I should, I should….I didn’t, I haven’t, I won’t.

The kitchen is almost done. I can finally start to see what it will look like finished. But it isn’t done and I want it to be. There are just not enough hours in the day for me to get done what I want. The back yard is overgrown and it needs some attention. I haven’t planted my annuals yet for this year. I bought berry bushes weeks ago to plant they are now wilted and dead. I am out of kitty litter and keep forgetting to buy it. Cats are so not happy with me. I have to keep moving forward. I have to clean out my classroom, but I haven’t. I should clean out the fridge, but I haven’t.

I haven’t even started on the nursery. I have things but the room is not anywhere near ready to be done. I have to sand, prime, paint, lay floor, etc. I was so worried that the wait was going to be too long until we pick up our little guy. Now I am not sure there will be enough time to get it all done–none of that matters though does it. He won’t know if I didn’t get something done that I wanted to. I should go to my brother’s country house to visit–but I haven’t. I should clean out my closest and drawers, but I haven’t. I should remember to put out the recycling, but I don’t. Breathe. As long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other I should make it to where I want to be–or atleast where I need to be.

A comment was posted that totally hit me and made me see something I hadn’t seen. I agree that there is a different value put on education in different cultures, and there certainly is a different message at the school I teach than the one I went to. Our society is not equal in anyway. Being a teacher has taught me that. Being a teacher has taught me so much more than I can ever hope to teach my students.

I have come to realize that as much as we want to think that we can look past culture, race, etc. We truly cannot ignore those things. We can’t pretend that those things do not exist as barriers in many cases. As I think, my students graduation was exaclty what they expected. It only disappointed those of us who have a different idea of what it should have been like. I need to be happy for my student and embrace thier celebratory style. I don’t want us all to be the same. I love diversity. I think it is essential, yet here I am denegrating the people I love because their ways are so different than mine. I have a long way to go in understanding myself and being honest about what type of preconceived notions that I have about what is right and wrong and working to realize that very few things that happen in our society have clear rights and wrongs–it is all a matter of perception. I must keep working on mine.

I sometimes forget that extreme differences in culture that exist in our society. I have lived in places where they have been highlighted but still forget as I live in my own middle class world. Last night was graduation night at the high school I teach at. It was interesting as always. I have mentioned before that the demographics of my school are about 96% lower/middle class African-Americans. Not that I think this really matters, but it does. This is a community that I don’t identify with. Not because they are black. It is deeper and more complicated than that. I remember my high school graduation–even though it was 17 years ago. It was a momentous occassion that was calm and respectful in most cases. Yes everyone cheer for their graduate as they crossed the stage, it is exciting. But there was an air of dignity and class to the ceremony.

Last night, again made me realize how different my values are from those whom I teach. There was not a quiet moment at the ceremony. Not during the invocation, the speeches from the salutatorian or the valadictorian–Parents and family members spent the entire 2 hours yelling at their students at the top of their lungs. Parents were encouraged by the principal, the school board president and the superintendent to be quiet and respectful during the ceremony and to model “correct” behavior for their children. It was sad. There were plenty of family members in the audience who were quiet and respectful and really wanted to make the evening something special. But there are others who don’t seem to realize what is appropriate at this type of ceremony. For many it may have been the only one they attended or will attend. Man, I sound a little pompous–maybe a lot. But I love my students and I wanted it to be special for them. Some parents were so loud that we couldn’t hear the names being called. Students walked in late in the middle of the ceremony. Families came in late, loudly and half way through the ceremony. I was saddened by the display and by my thoughts about it. Who am I to judge the behavior of others based on what my culture/upbringing thinks is appropriate.

I guess it is good that I recognize that I am affected by these differences and that I know the values that I have and that I want to pass on to my child. We are a vastly different mesh of cultures, values and beliefs. I have to accept the differences and respect them. I have to be careful not to judge infront of my child or at all. I don’t want to pass on my preconceived notions to him. I want to teach him that differences are good and necessary and are what makes our world and our country great.