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inspiration

Short Notes: Build Your Own Independence v.2010

by Jose on February 21, 2010 · 1 comment

in life

Malcolm X, "Our Freedom Can't Wait!"

A suggestion on building your own independence in the new decade, but first, a few notes:

Today, many of my compatriots celebrated the 45th anniversary of the assassination of El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, or commonly known as Malcolm X. His legacy and works still penetrate and influence so many of us who strive for true equality in this country. While so many remember what many consider his angry and rebellious side, people also need to remember the peace he advocated for, and the man he eventually came to represent later on in his life.

One of his central points of his legacy was his advocacy for independent ownership. Much of his body of work existed precisely because his constituency supported him outright and financially, and that’s an important part of his legacy. When the people who you wish to address support your most revolutionary work or when the monies you’ve earned support your own product, that’s following the compass in the direction of freedom.

In 2010, succumbing to ease of use and style for a small fee of one’s own person has become easier than ever. Free services have a great way of bringing the most random people together, especially ones with a common interest. However, these corporations have a bottom line, and the minute you mess with that bottom line, like asking for a little privacy with your activities or making sure your material belongs exclusively to you, they take a little back. They change your privacy settings. They block your site for “questionable material.” They change the terms of service on you.

So what does someone who wants liberation do? Get their own .com.

That sounds simplistic enough, but let me expound. Not only do you get your own .com / .net / .wtf, you pay for your own hosting, and you get some open-source software, and voila! You’ve established some sense of independence on the web! Now, the next logical step is for those of us on sites like Ning to get our monies together, buy a bunch of great servers, and start our own hosting, but the hosting world, unlike Blogspot / Facebook / etc. are much more beholden to their customers since we’re paying and our ratios are far more favorable.

Whatever your background, we who have Internet access have to consider our roles in assuring that access and equity still exist and that we’re represented in as many arenas as possible. Once we can say we own, we’re truly understood what independence means.

And none of this is free of cost. But freedom is not either.

Jose, who wonders where people get off dissing Black History Month …

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MLK Day: It Doesn’t Matter With Me Now

by Jose on January 18, 2010 · 11 comments

in life

Martin Luther King Jr. Pledging Allegiance at the Lincoln Memorial

I’m not going to quit being an educator. Even when people want me to quit, even when the gossip comes raining down, even when the whole world tries to tell me that education is not particularly valuable in the American hierarchy of occupations, I know I cannot quit. I know when people ask me to stop talking about the prejudices and injustices of the day, whether subliminally or overtly, I’ve made headway into the minds and hearts of someone. I’ve agitated some conversation. I’ve made people formed in their ideals tweak their core beliefs just a little bit. While the list of people I can thank for this passion wraps around a lake or two, I always think of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Lots of people thank him. The people who are indebted to him and the people who reciprocate that legacy by paying it forward are almost immeasurable. My story here will reveal a little more than I should reveal, but I really don’t care. My truth is as close to objective as I can get it without being overtly nice and fumbling with words. I’m more concerned with accuracy than agreeability. Without this story, I wouldn’t have a blog, I wouldn’t have a job, and I wouldn’t tell you just how much courage it takes for educators to teach in the face of pseudo-accountability, economic persuasion, and intellectual invasion.

In my second year of teaching, I was teaching my 8th graders how to translate verbal expressions into mathematical equations when I hear this booming voice in the hallway. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it didn’t bode well for someone. One of my students who had gone to the bathroom came back and whispered to me in the middle of my lesson, “Mr. Vilson, they’re talking about you. It’s your bulletin board.” I turned back to the student and in my usual Vilsonness deflected it and got back to work on one of my favorite topics in math.

Later in the day, my AP at the time came in and admonished me for my bulletin board and my classroom, where at once people confused my aesthetics with my pedagogy. None of this made sense to me. City College never taught me about aesthetics as a means to get my students engaged in the actual material. I hadn’t read Lisa Delpit or Pedro Noguera yet. The intensity of such a simple item as a display for student work might have made me laugh if not for my tenuous relationship (at best) with the administration. Now, there was a “legitimate” basis for destroying the life of an untenured teacher who the children actually enjoyed learning from.

I am not without fault here. I respect that aesthetics actually help students feel like the classroom is their home, and that they’re coming into a place of learning. They can see themselves within a building that better housed factory workers than students, mimicking wide open spaces like jails would. I was still so fresh and young, I didn’t walk and talk with much confidence around administration, despite my deadpan exterior. Never did I imagine that I’d have to pause everything I was doing at the time, including my graduate coursework, to beautify my classroom. I only say this half-sarcastically.

With the immense pressure and lack of real support from administration at that point, I turned to three gentlemen who I knew might have an answer for me: Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, and John Lennon. While the latter two were certainly inspirational, MLK Jr.’s “I’ve Been To The Mountaintop” speech carried me through this depressing portion of my year. I sat there, letting these words repeat in my speakers while I reflected both in written word and in my mind:

“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!”
- Martin Luther King Jr., “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop,” April 3rd, 1968

As I let the tears stream down my face, I decided to take action. My math coach at the time consulted me, my fellow teachers pleaded with me, and my commenters empathized with me, but none of it helped as much as the aforementioned words of MLK. So I did the best thing possible: I posted this quote and others all over my desk, front and center. My students inquired about it, and I told them the reasoning behind the quotes themselves. My lesson plans became stronger and I taught with more passion and urgency. I’d never cared so much in my life since I was almost too sure my days were numbered.

Every night, I’d talk to my avatars, hoping they’d have some answers for me. Even with some of the discipline issues I was having in my classroom, they told me to just be patient, and I’d be rewarded handsomely for these trials of my character. Now I write you with a self-efficacy that I never thought I’d have. Despite my current frustrations with the school system as a whole, I don’t fear losing what I’ve attained as a teacher or leader, as I’ve felt like I could lose it all before. I’ve known what that’s like since I started. I stay humble because I know, no matter how far up this proverbial ladder I reach, I can lose it all.

It doesn’t matter with me now.

If it’s not about helping our students, it’s not worth my time. I’ve never come within an inch of my life of dying from a sneeze. I’ve never organized huge protests all over the nation, dodging bullets and rocks in the process. I’ve never had my house burnt down (I almost did but that never came to be). Yet, I’ve officially punched my card in. I will not quit.

We will get there, even with my eyes closed.

Mr. Vilson, who will podcast this soon.

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Be Somebody

by Jose on December 1, 2009 · 1 comment

in life

Kings of Leon

Kings of Leon

Everytime I come across December 1st, I think about the millions of people across the world who have constant reminders of their impending doom, and that no matter what they do or how well they keep themselves in shape, their impending mortality becomes not only more certain but with a shorter timeline than average. Oftentimes, they’re stripped from a certain aspect of their lives or dreams because they physically and mentally have an upper limit that doesn’t allow them to think past 3, 4, 10 years. If that.

Rather than bringing it upon ourselves to look at this situation fatalistically, it should inspire us to try and live the best lives possible. While many of us readers don’t have AIDS or other debilitating diseases, we still need to consider our own time span to exert as much energy and peace into a world lacking it. In a major way.

Lately, in my teaching, I’ve tried to find more effective methods of disciplining my kids before they go into high schools where no one’s going to speak to them when they mess up. Or slip up. Or drip out. Or drop out. Until we have systems in place that care more for humans and not the bottom line, this may always be the case. However, the biggest thing I’ve learned since taking on the job is that, regardless of what may happen to a child after I’ve taught them, they eventually live as occupants of this Earth, contributing positively no matter what their station.

I came to this interesting conclusion after reflecting on the very first class I had. As I’m seeing them grow into their own men and women on MySpace / Facebook, I’m getting a good understanding of the sorts of seeds I need to plant to make sure the ones I have under my wing now understand their global impact. Or so I hope. While many of the graduates thank me in part for their emotional development, there’s always that question about what more can I give?

Of course, as this is running through my head, I’m still far away from my eventual goal of becoming the best teacher I possibly can, but that goes with everything I do. I need to be somebody before I can help someone else be …

Mr. V, who remembers World AIDS Day even when it’s not December 4th …

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The Proverbial Godfather to My Students

by Jose on November 5, 2009 · 4 comments

in life

Yankee Stadium Gang

Yankee Stadium Gang

This morning, I had a strange choice to make. Ever since the Yankees made the playoffs, I made a quasi-promise to myself that, should the New York Yankees win the championship, I’d take my students to the parade. While not educationally sound, I’ve been building that bridge from Inwood to South Bronx for my students since their 6th grade year. For their big class trip in 6th grade, I took them to the old Yankee Stadium a few months removed from when the owners closers its doors. For their 7th grade year, I took them to the new Yankee Stadium as well. Thus, it would have been fitting for me to bring them to their first Yankee parade.

My real reason for bringing them to the stadiums has less to do with my fervor for the Yankees; Citi Field would have done fine (Shea? Not so much.) It’s knowing that I continue to give them an experience that they may not otherwise get as children, exposing them to things within their area that otherwise people deny them. For instance, as my then 6th grade students and I rode the D train to 161st and River Ave., my students admitted to me that they’d never been to Yankee Stadium. They may never have known what the big deal was about unless I personally took them, at a cost that was well within their price range (free).

What’s more, I knew they’d at least get the feeling that, for at least a moment, the whole world was theirs. So this morning, almost completely out of my mind since I’d slept about 4 hours, I had to make a critical decision: do the kids go or do they not? Then I realized at a ticker tape parade of this magnitude, they’d feel more cramped and antsy than open and free. Plus, the risks associated with thousands of eccentric New Yorkers cheering on 25 baseball guys make me a little nervous.

Best believe that, before the year is done, I’ll have something that’ll complete their career at my middle school. Even if they don’t remember me, they’ll at least remember the time when, for a second, they walked in the steps of world championships …

Mr. V, who loves the vibe of NYC right about now …

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Why Your Voice Really Does Matter

by Jose on October 18, 2009 · 6 comments

in life

Soledad O'Brien

Soledad O'Brien

Last night, I and the gentlemen from MiBodegaOnline.com went to El Museo Del Barrio, a museum dedicated to the Latino experience here and everywhere, located in Spanish Harlem, to see a preview of CNN’s Latino in America, a spinoff off the acclaimed Black in America by Soledad O’Brien. She was present to introduce the clips and answer questions regarding the premiere and outstanding issues pertaining to the Latino community. One audience member asked arguably the most critical question about the documentary when he asked, “About Lou Dobbs …”

The audience, at that point, clapped loudly, and Soledad’s smile stretched from ear to ear, as if expecting the question. For those not in the know, Lou Dobbs, CNN anchor and host of his own show, has been at the center of a maelstrom of debate with his divisive comments towards the Latino community as a whole, but specifically illegal immigrants. He’s not only continued to perpetrate lies about the “facts,” he’s also sponsored racist organizations like the Minutemen, an organization that supposedly patrols the borders of the US to contain migrants from other countries, predominantly Mexico.

“About Lou Dobbs … I guess my question is, how do we get him out?”

I’ll presume that he meant to ask Soledad O’Brien what’s a good strategy to unseat Lou Dobbs from his own program in light of his blatantly racist (and other -ists) agenda. Lou Dobbs’ program is on the same network (CNN) as this program, so naturally, people had to ask a seemingly uncomfortable question to Soledad, who’s done her part in diversifying the station’s anchors and shows. While I can’t directly quote her, I do believe she said the network notices when certain programs do well and others don’t. She also said that as long as she puts out solid, nuanced programming, and people keep responding as well as they have, then they will win.

And that’s where I see the power. We have to speak in the language that makes the most sense for whatever the situation is, and master that language in kind. The same ideas we have about visiting a foreign country should be applied to everything we do. If we want more movies with Latinos in it, then let’s go to films that have Latinos in them. If we want more stake in our communities, we need to stuff those ballot boxes and sponsor those events, whether with experience or monies. It’s not enough to just blog, Facebook, Twitter, or whatever modality we use online to deliver our messages when many of us aren’t speaking in the language of the very causes we’re fighting for … we need to act en masse.

After stating her thinly-veiled commentary, a good response / non-response if I ever heard one, she said, “I won’t connect the dots for you.” That’s where you and I step in. Join me. Bring your voice to the fore.

Speak up and speak loud.

Jose, who will never insult your collective intelligence …

Soledad O'Brien and I at the Latino in America event at Museo del Barrio, Spanish Harlem, NYC

Soledad O'Brien and I at the Latino in America event at Museo del Barrio, Spanish Harlem, NYC

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Walk With Your Chin Up, Young Man

by Jose on October 12, 2009 · 0 comments

in life

Batman

Batman

Sometime last year, a young weary teacher walked through a still leaf-laden path along the projects in his neighborhood. Exhausted after a long day and a subsequent pair of naps on the trains he needs to take to and from work, sore from his feet up, and generally in need of a welcoming seat and some food, this young man seemed to drag his book bag along with the rest of his worries rather well. While his knees certainly didn’t buckle from under him, his brow furled and his chin almost touched his collarbone.

Suddenly, a man yelled out something indiscernible. It caught the man unaware, but he knew it came from the clutter of old Black men smoking and playing checkers on the small park benches.

“Walk with your chin up, young man!”

The teacher proceeded to do so with a smirk, but with a realization of what the elder man was asking him to do. He was asking him to be proud of himself, to look up even when the going gets rough, to respect and love life for everything that it has to offer.

“Life is too short to be looking down, man.”

Exactly.

Jose, who hopes you walk with your chin up …

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The Process, of Teaching and Otherwise

by Jose on October 5, 2009 · 2 comments

in life

Lemon Andersen

Lemon Andersen

On Saturday night, yours truly had the opportunity to see County of Kings, a one-man show by Lemon Andersen, in which he tells a semi-autobiographical tale about his life and struggle in the slums of Brooklyn, facing p0verty, drug convictions, AIDS-harboring parents, and the challenges of learning how to be a man without having many father figures around. I describe much of that at length in my latest Blogcritics.org review, and you can check that at your earliest convenience. In this post, I’d like to get more into some of the things he discussed after the play was over, in a bit of a breakdown session where he sat with his all-black hood regalia (bandana, cap, jeans, etc.).

In this session, Lemon paid particular attention to a belief in the process of getting such a well-run, fluid, and, at once, tenacious and emotional. He reiterated the idea of the process as a careful, well-studied, and meticulous set of practices that made him a better actor. Rather than relying on natural talent and wordplay like his fellow spoken word artists, he separates himself by continually studying the legends and learning as much about everything as much as possible. This sounds a bit contrived, but the drive for excellent is evident in the precision of his performance.

And he makes it look far too easy. That seems to be the modus operandi for the new generation of workers. In generations past, hard work looked like hard work, and people logically looked for characteristics of hard work in the physical attributes of the person, searching for the soreness and the tears that come along with what they considered hard work. These days seem to necessitate a certain seduction on the part of whatever work we do, from the pro athletes that people admire to some of our favorite teachers and bloggers.

Superficially, it’s hard to differentiate between these group of people and the average person … until you try and do what they do. That’s when people realize that people have a hard time replicating their brilliance, that all those times when we didn’t see them they were working, and furthermore, that it’s not just that they were out practicing, but practicing perfectly.Furthermore, there’s a passion and an almost religion belief there that others only wish they had, and frankly, makes their work look soulless.

Readers and passerbys alike can learn from people like Lemon. That attention to process takes a ton of back work. To wit, someone asked him, “How have people that you know, that you talk about on the stage respond when you say all these things and share so much personal information?” He replied, “Everything I do here is an act.” and almost simultaneously said, “I believe in everything I do up here.” Everyone watching him apparently did, too.

Jose, who wonders what drives your passion …

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Michael Jordan’s Principle: Address The Haters

by Jose on September 28, 2009 · 1 comment

in life

Michael Jordan’s Hall of Fame speech (and his career, for that matter) read like a diatribe against wrong decision-making … and our fundamental ideas about sportsmanship. For those that have lived under the sea for the last 30 years, Michael Jordan’s arguably the greatest basketball player of all time, surpassing records and racking up a highlight reel the size of any big-budget movie. Words used to describe MJ during his tenure as the most dominant shooting guard to play the game: “cold-blooded,” “merciless,” “exacting,” “superlative,” and “focused.” 6 NBA Champions and the Most Valuable Player in each, 5 NBA Regular-Season MVPs, 31.6 career scoring average (tops in this category), and those accomplishments came right after taking over the throne for both Larry Bird and Earvin “Magic” Johnson, who both alternated the crown for greatest players in their era.

His ascension into absolute reign signified a bit of a revolution for the league and sports as a whole. For all the moments, measurable and immeasurable, he chose a ceremony that ultimately cements the greatest and finest basketball coaches, broadcasters, writers, and players alike with a scribe that addressed  his most vital dissenters. While he also found time to laud a few people along the way, he innovated the idea of revenge in sports and using the vitriol and slights directed at him to fuel his next performance. His trash talk on the court was about as legendary as the actions he put to those words, and what he’d do after a mind-boggling play ushered in a new showmanship that tied Jordan to the bravado we see displayed all over sports as a whole. Indeed his truths were self-evident.

I’ve contemplated a bit on this tremendous speech, and wondered how I should feel about it. It almost seems petty for Michael to use that stage to show disrespect to the decisions and perceived slights of people who didn’t have a post-trip rear view mirror from which to point their decisions. Dean Smith can’t be blamed for not letting him on the national magazine covers nor can Buzz Peterson be blamed for starting ahead of him. It revealed a sort of arrogance and pettiness that always rubbed anti-Jordan sports fans the wrong way. An assassin in the figurative form of the word, he couldn’t just win; he had to kick everyone in the teeth in and crush any spirit they had in thinking they’d actually beat him.

Then I sat there and thought how that sort of mentality applied to my life and others who I’ve seen succeed around me. For all the times many of us laud those who remain humble, we gravitate towards those who’ve put their money where their mouth is. They’ve put in the long hours behind the scenes, perfecting their shots, reflecting on their practice, saying less about what they’re going to do and trading those points in for points in the field of their choosing. They have a sharp attention to detail and debunk risks in the face of actual personal progress.

Detractors seem to serve a greater purpose than most of us never pay attention to: they help redefine and sharpen who we are as people. Those of us who do great work in our fields always need a reminder of the obstacles facing them in their journey. I understand why people  may not like him as a man after that speech, but the hubris and self-idolatry made Michael the man he is today.

I call this the Michael Jordan Principle: if we want success, address the haters, don’t ignore them. The minute we do, it shows that anyone can test our mettle. The best way to respond to the denigration doesn’t necessarily come in verbal form, but in one’s actions after. Do we prove people right by not doing anything about what was said or wrong by becoming passionate about reaching our goals?

This is, of course, within reason, because sometimes a detractor is really a friend in disguise. For instance, Phil Jackson pushed Michael Jordan to give up the  ball more in favor of letting the whole team grow, and thus winning championships instead of scoring titles. Overall, the Michael Jordan Principle shows how, many times, the best approach to personal growth is using the negative energy thrown at you to grow and not letting it weigh you down.

Jose, who only liked Michael Jordan only after he retired for the 3rd time …

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Why We Quote

by Jose on September 21, 2009 · 2 comments

in life

Neil Patrick Harris on Jeopardy

Neil Patrick Harris on Jeopardy

On Twitter a few hours ago, I asked a simple question:

Here’s a good question: who’s the person you quote the most? Why?

I got a myriad of responses, all of which I’d like to share with you:

Dr. King. He’s timeless and relatable. – @missprofe

Emerson. Radical (for his time), individualist, remained true to self when other belittled or failed to understand. Churchill is 2nd, though, only as it pertains to politics & acumen. I’ve found a few of his beliefs to be offensive. – @reinadenyc

musicians of various genres. cuz, well. i love music. – @O_riginal_sin

Bazoume’s Dad. Funny. – @chneux [Ed. Note: my brother means our father.]

Oscar Wilde. Everything that needs to be said in a humorous package. – @problemchylde

Jack Handey! Dude was wise! Very wise. – @tamarapagan

Bob Marley. I learned many important truths at a young age from his music. They spring to mind like well loved verses, maxims. – @nezua

Thoreau b/c he went to the woods to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life. & Twain b/c golf is a good walk ruined! So so true! – @kdawg1313

A child cannot be taught by anyone who despises him, and a child cannot afford to be fooled. –James Baldwin (ALL DAY) @elprofe316

I quote many enjoy Oscar Wilde, Socrates, George Burns, DaVinci cant pick a fav. Actually I can’t lie my mother is the one I enjoy quoting the most though growing up it meant little to me but as an adult she rite. Charles M. Schulz – don’t worry about the world coming to an end today. It’s already tomorrow in Australia. – @mciscart

Anyone notice a theme? My personal favorite people to quote are Robert Burns, Carter G. Woodson, Michael Jackson, Jay-Z, The Beatles, and Kanye. That’s a pretty diverse crowd of gentlemen. What do all these people have in common?

Well, my first thought came in the form of Sonia Sanchez, who visited Syracuse University sometime in 2002-2003, and she said something to the effect of “Stop quoting everyone. Make up your own words. We already had a Malcolm and a Martin. We need new words.” For a good 1/2 a decade, I stopped quoting people more, especially as quotes became more accessible through the World Wide Web. This conflicted with (I believe) American History X, where Danny says, “end a paper with a quote. He says someone else has already said it best. So if you can’t top it, steal from them and go out strong.”

Then it occurred to me that I do quote all the time, even when I don’t mean to, and it usually comes from someone whose successes I either admire or pique my interest in some fashion. Lots of people have quotes, and make themselves out to be the swamis and avatars of the present generation of thinkers, when their actions haven’t reflected the words that come out of their mouths.

Thus, I look at the lives that many of the people mentioned led (or probably led) and it says lots about a person who quotes someone who’s done a lot in their own lives. It says plenty about their ambitions, their desires, and their intelligence. While I feel too many people quote everyone to death to substitute for their lack of personal creativity, I also see how just having a person who’s succeeded and lived to document their history in a single blurb can mobilize many an individual.

So what do you think? Do you quote people too much? What’s your favorite quote and does it apply to my quote theory? What say you?

Jose, who’s in an asking mood …

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Leave Out All The Rest

by Jose on August 6, 2009 · 6 comments

in life

Linkin Park

Linkin Park

This past week, I had the fortune of, among other things, hanging out in North Carolina with the folks from Center of Teaching Quality. I got there (in one piece) right in time for dinner, where teachers from across the country got together and just hung out. It’d been our second time together, so there was no need for introduction. None of us came from the same school district either, so the barriers of politics came down and fast. In these passionate discussions, we got to the heart of what tends to make teachers great: the stories.

While I won’t share everyone else’s, I have no qualms about mine. In my first year of teaching, as a young Black/Latino male teacher, I always got the question, “So are you married?” Naturally, I said, “Yes.” And they’d say, “Who?”

I replied, “Her name is math. Now get back to work!”

Of course, they’d either laugh or just roll their eyes at their (supposedly) corny math teacher. I had to be corny just to keep the heat off me. Of course, one of my knuckleheads decided he’d want to test me. This one (who’ll read this once I send him a link) was always annoying the hell out of me every chance he could, even when he was doing well, and I’d have to call his house for some annoying, knuckleheaded thing he’d do in my class (or not do for that matter).

Nonetheless, he comes up to me one day, a few days after I called his mom and said, “So Mr. Vilson, guess what?”

“Yes, Azzam.”

“I did your wife last night. She was really good.” The rest of the class laughs, but staring and me for a reaction.

I furled my lower lip, just nodding my head while everyone got their giggles in. And I said,

“Funny you should say that because I talked to my wife last night and she said you didn’t do it very well.”

The crowd goes wild. I couldn’t help but say after, “That’s why she came back to me.” More giggles. Of course, he just hung his head and went back to work, seething at his desk. And none of this was devastating or scarring in any way; he’s probably one of the smartest(-ass) students I’ve ever had, and it’s one of my brighter moments of my career. It reminds me how, above all else, people in the classroom are just that: people. We can be our sarcastic, funny, irreverent selves without losing that respect for each other.

If those of us in the position to help people leave out all the rest of the crap, like the politics, the nonsense, the bochinche (the gossip), and the other minutae of our professions, we get to something a lot more substantive, like getting past the skin of a pineapple or even that overplayed books vs. cover metaphor. There’s a passion and love for those of us who are part-time masochists, part-time practitioners, and full-time people-movers that can’t be substituted by the more soul-less and redundant stuff, even with less stress and more pay.

Then again, if we left out all the rest of the minutae, would we have more people in those profession? Possibly. Until then, we’re all in this together …

Jose, who cannot believe it’s already August …

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