Where do you see beauty?

I've been doing a lot of processing, analyzing and updating during my first 2 weeks in NYC, I just haven't been updating here. I'm keeping a teaching log, which at this point, is mostly for me to keep track of ideas, questions and observations from the schools I'm visiting and people I'm talking to or reading. At this point, its a lot of learning theory (of which I'm a complete neophyte) and basic classroom observations. It may become more interesting and filled with stories when I actually start teaching this September.

I love my program. I have observations at a high school in the Bronx each morning, training through the fellows program every afternoon (logistics, discussion, resumes, educational theory, classroom management...) and Teachers College classes 4 nights/week (middle school science methods and gender equality in education). That schedule, plus the typical grad school reading /written responses that accompany, plus moving into a new place and figuring out the neighborhood, have kept me quite busy. I'm learning a lot from the EXCELLENT teacher I'm observing, and from the prof's in our training session.

I see so much beauty around me- the greenery in the park, the families having birthday parties and the friends throwing frisbee, colorful murals painted on elementary schools and tilework around the subway platforms, the students interactions, the teacher smiles. I love the masses of people around. I love that we're all up in each others' grill and whether we like it or not, 20 people will be forced to ease drop on a the five year old in the subway telling her daddy a joke. I love that in the in the neighborhoods (like, not downtown Manhattan), people make eye contact and say hello (or Buenos dias). I love that with every commute I see and hear and sit next to and crowd in with people and I love to watch those around me be considerate of people who are bigger or slower or those who are with children or have needs. I watched a young girl walk down the sidewalk in front of me this morning, skipping, turning, filling up that space on the street with the creativity and joy of her dance.

I was walking down a street in Brooklyn with a friend last week. "Hear that?" he said, referring to a low tone from the distance. "A ship's leaving the harbor. That was from the ocean! I need to hear that," he said, "to be reminded that we're right next to something that God made that's bigger than the city."