books, children, education

Book Buddy Letter 2

Christa Avampato

Dwight, the 3rd grader I write letters to as part of the Learning Leaders Book Buddy program, just sent me his first letter. We are reading Charlotte’s Web together and we write letters back and forth at designated points in our reading. As promised, here is Dwight’s letter to me, and my letter back to him.

“Dear Christa,

I like writing letters to you, too. This is one of my favorite books, too. I enjoy reading, too. I find inspiration in my reading, too. I grew up in Queens. My favorite part of Charlotte’s Web is when Wilbur and Charlotte meet.

Your Book Buddy,

Dwight”

“Dear Dwight,



I enjoyed reading your letter. We have so much in common! We both like to write letters, we both find inspiration in our reading, and we both like meeting new friends.



Another activity I really enjoy is helping my friends and family members, just like Charlotte

helped Wilbur. It is a very special thing to know that we have skills and resources to help someone we care about when they have a problem that they need to solve. I am very close to my family and friends, and they are a very important part of my life.



We are at an interesting point in Charlotte’s Web. Her solution to use her webs to talk about Wilbur was really creative! I like that she chose interesting words and phrases that were very different from how people usually described Wilbur. What did you think of Charlotte’s plan?



Now that they are off to the fair, I wonder if Charlotte will continue putting words into her webs or if she will think of something different to do. Wilbur is really counting on her to help him win the competition at the fair. What do you think her plan for the fair will be?



I’m looking forward to getting your next letter!



Your Book Buddy,

Christa”



These letters remind me of how important it is for children to have adult role models in their lives, people they can talk to about their thoughts and opinions. Articulating our own stories is an underrated skill, and one that I hope I can help Dwight with through these letters.

entrepreneurship, Examiner, food

Examiner.com: Interview with Danielle Di Vecchio, Founder of bakery Biscotti di Vecchio

Christa Avampato

I learned about Danielle Di Vecchio and her business, Biscotti di Vecchio through Crain’s story about online bakeries. Danielle had been making sinfully delicious biscotti for years and giving them away as gifts. Her grandmother taught her to make these traditional Italian cookies, a staple of every Italian kitchen. (Coming from an Italian family myself, my grandmother always had chocolate and vanilla biscotti for us to nibble on. I distinctly remember their scent and place in her kitchen.) Family and friends encouraged Danielle to form a business based on her baking hobby. Danielle’s biscotti, made from the finest, all-natural ingredients, make perfect holiday gifts.

For the interview, click here.

feelings, sadness

My Year of Hopefulness – Seeing

Christa Avampato

Today I had my annual eye exam, and with it came the dilation of my eyes rendering my near vision pretty useless for a few hours. In that time, I was unable to read, write, study for my GRE, use my computer, find phone numbers on my phone, clean my apartment, or watch TV. All I could do was get myself home, and then I could sit, and wait for my vision to return. This is the stillness Brian was talking about yesterday. And so, I waited and while I was waiting, I allowed some feelings to surface.

Sadness:
While I was getting ready for my Junior Achievement class on Wednesday night, I couldn’t find any office supplies in my apartment. I used to have a large box of them and they were lost in the fire. I sighed deeply for all the little things that I had to leave behind.

Shortly after the fire, I stopped dating someone I really liked. I wanted to take the relationship up a notch, and he wanted to let it go. He didn’t show up for me when I needed him most. I tried to be friends with him for a bit and quickly realized that our friendship made me unhappy. And so, I released him and have had very little contact with him in the past few months. It’s sad to let someone go, especially someone whom you enjoyed being with. I miss him, or at least I miss the person I thought he was going to be in my life. And I’m sad that he doesn’t miss me.

After Thanksgiving, I would have brought my dog, Sebastian, back from Florida and he would have been running around my apartment now. We would have been playing in the park together, going for walks, taking naps, and having a grand old time together. I’m sad that we lost him too soon, that he never had a chance to be in New York with me.

Anger:
I’m really angry that a woman set my old apartment building on fire, and that as a result I almost lost my life and lost most of my belongings. I’m angry that a number of people in my life didn’t understand how traumatic that loss was. One friend commented “why are you so upset about it? You got all new stuff.” We’re not friends any more.

The guy I was dating spent the week after the fire giving me daily percentages of how far along the road to recovery I was, while also telling me that I really couldn’t be angry at the woman who set my building on fire. (Brian’s response to this was “Um, whose side is he on?”) And a week later he decided it would be a good idea to tell me that he “wasn’t sure of his feelings for me.” I listened patiently to his concerns, even though all I wanted to do was kick him in the shins and walk away. Since I had found a new apartment, he felt I was now able to listen to his tales of emotional unavailability. Seriously? I saw him a few more times after that, and eventually I did walk away though I refrained from kicking him in the shins.

I’m angry at myself that I didn’t bring Sebastian to New York sooner. He likely would have developed the same condition that caused us to put him down, though maybe a better vet here could have helped him. I wish he was here, and I’m so angry that I didn’t get a chance to hug him one more time and tell him how much I loved him.

Very soon after letting these feelings surface, and going through a few tissues in the process, my vision returned. Logically, I know that the dilation drops wore off though it signified something more than that, too. This time of being physically unable to see let me sit and see things that I have been busy burying. I do feel lighter now, and am able to see a bit more hope peeking through the clouds.

care, change, health, healthcare

My Year of Hopefulness – Good Grief

Christa Avampato

One of the things this year that has brought me so much hope is my new ability to ask and receive help. By nature, I am not good at asking for help, though I am fantastic at providing it. A few weeks ago I told my friend, Rob, about my strong desire to make all of the change I’ve been through this year into a positive experience. I want to look back on 2009 and see that it was a decisive, magical turning point in my life. Enter, Brian.

Early on in my life, I spent a number of years in therapy to acquire tools to help me handle certain aspects of my childhood in a healthy way. They’ve served me well for 33 years and now I need some new tools to help me manage a whole new set of challenges. Brian is a social worker by training who has an incredible gift for helping people to get the most out of the lives they have to help them achieve the lives that they want. He sets about his work with the desire to help people turn their experiences and dreams into action. He is exactly the kind of person I need right now.

I began my weekly sessions with him today and because I am so open about my life’s circumstances, we were able to get to the root of our work together very quickly. It helps that I found Brian based on Rob’s strong recommendation. Because I trust Rob, I immediately trusted Brian. Because I trust myself and know how I want my life to take shape, it was easy to ask someone as knowledgeable as Brian for help. And so, it begins…

Being a forever student, I asked for homework at the end of our session. “I want you to be still and allow the feelings of loss you’ve had this year to surface. You’re so busy getting away from grief that you never really look it in the eye and see how it can actually help you.” True, and scary, and difficult, and necessary. I was so concerned about getting through my losses this year that I didn’t stop to look around and see what they really had to offer me. I just wanted to be done, and in my desire to be done, I forgot to let myself grieve. I took a “well that happened so now get on with it” approach without letting myself say “that was frightening and sad, and I’m going to miss those things and people in my life.”

Grief is difficult; suppressed grief eventually becomes unbearable and makes itself a nuisance and makes us tired. With Brian’s help, I’m going to figure out how to make grief serve me well.

business, charity, economy, education, Junior Achievement, philanthropy

My Year of Hopefulness – M.S. 223 One Year Later

Christa Avampato

“A writer – someone who is enormously taken by things anyone else would walk by.” ~ a quote found in the hallways on M.S. 223

Today I went to M.S. 223 in the South Bronx with Junior Achievement. It has been a year almost to the day that I first visited that school. One year later, I still felt excited and nervous, prepared and completely unprepared. My work with the organization, and others like it, make me feel more useful and alive than I feel anywhere else. Teaching is hard work – perhaps the hardest work I’ve ever done because it requires me to draw on every skill I have and then some. Every time I stand in front of a class, I learn something new about myself and about the world.

We spent the morning talking about international trade – how it works and its impact on our everyday lives. In one topic, we covered math, politics, economics, diplomacy, contract negotiations, sociology, and psychology. We didn’t even get to the prescribed activities because the students had so many questions, insights, and concerns. As usual, I had to summon my improvisation skills early and often.
When we talked about product imports and legal stipulations that often impact those imports, some students brought up a topic I was not at all expecting: guns. They knew about licensing, having a warrant to search a house, the relationships between the police and people in a community, and the damage that guns cause. They asked me about laws governing guns, in the U.S. and abroad, their sale, purchase, and sadly, their use in neighborhoods in New York City. It was a tough conversation – this is the reality of an inner-city middle school student.
After lunch, they were wound up. We reviewed the activities in their workbooks. Some were engaged, and some were not. Most couldn’t seem to sit still or focus or listen to one another. For the first time in a classroom I began to see the split between students who really embraced learning and those who did not, and I got very worried. I couldn’t leave some behind and feel good about the day. I had to find a way to bring them all with me. What I was doing wasn’t working and so for the last activity, we turned to the tool I love best – a blank sheet of paper.
On the back of their workbooks, I had them design and describe a product they would like to make and sell.
“How much money do we have?” they asked.
“Unlimited,” I responded.
“How do I make something?” they asked.
“Think of something in your life that you want to fix and develop a product or service that fixes it,” I said.
“Anything?” they asked.
“Yes, anything you want,” I replied.
The floodgates were open. Even the most disruptive students had a rush of ideas: a global communication device that translates your voice to another language so communication with others is easier across the globe; a machine that cures every disease known to man; a pocket-sized screen connected to a home security camera. There was no shortage of creativity in that room and I was able to relate what I do every day at work to what these students were doing in this exercise.
“You get paid to make things?” one student asked.
“I do,” I replied.
“Wow, you’re lucky,” another one said.
“It’s not about luck,” I said. “It’s about deciding to get a certain skill set and then working hard. You could do it, too.”
They raised their eyebrows as if to say, “Really?”
Our class ended in a rush and before I knew it, silence filled the classroom. Off they went out into the world, to circumstances that are more difficult than most people can ever imagine. I worry about them all the time. I’d like to think that years from now, one of them will create a product or service because of our 45 minute lesson on product development. Maybe it inspired a small dream that someday becomes a reality for one of them.
This is the most curious thing about teaching: you plant seeds with nothing but love and faith, hoping that somewhere down the line something you said resonates with someone, inspires them, encourages them, gives them a reason to believe.
art, career, choices, education, literature, time, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Your One Wild and Precious Life

Christa Avampato

Long a mainstay of college admissions processes and orientations, I recently heard about the poem The Summer Day by Mary Oliver. (I’ve pasted it at the bottom of this post.) My sister, Weez, tells me that it is my great hope in life to be employed as a professional student. She’s right.


I am a sucker for places that make us dream big, that push us beyond our limits, that stretch our imaginations and minds in ways that we never thought possible. I am a forever student, very much at home in the classroom wherever that classroom happens to be, whether I am up front teaching or happily seated in the front row soaking up all that glorious information like a sponge. So of course the big questions are my very favorites, and Mary Oliver hits on what may be my favorite question yet: “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” Isn’t that gorgeous? Makes me want to print it out 1,000 times and plaster it all over my neighborhood.

This week I have had new options unfolding for me every day. Just when I think I am set upon a course of action, some other wonderful possibility falls into my path to consider. I think I’m being tested (which is fine by me since students love tests.) I think I’m being shown a way to focus on exactly what field in life gets me most excited, education, and then also being offered a myriad of distractions that are testing my passion for it. Mary Oliver’s question is like a beacon in the haze. What if we looked at every option that’s thrown our way, what if we considered every road before us with this lens. What if we made choices by asking “is this what you want to do with your one wild and precious life (knowing that our lives are so short)?”

The very thought of this takes my breathe away. Our lives are so short. We have such little time here, making every day a wild and precious thing. So here is my answer to Mary Oliver, no matter how many days I have left:

To write courageously and passionately so that it stirs the hearts and imaginations of others
To give children every where the chances that I had to improve my own lot in life through education, dedication, and very hard work
To lift others up as I rise
To generate more kindness, compassion, and generosity in the world
To take these two wild and precious hands and build things that have value and meaning, for me and for many others
To travel far and wide, to experience other cultures, to see new scenery, to meet as many citizens of the world as possible
And, yes, every day I want to be both a teacher and a student

The Summer Day
by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.
business, Examiner, fashion

Examiner.com: An Interview with Kristen Ernst, Founder of Life Path Living

Christa Avampato

I met Kristen on Owning Pink, a community of amazing women who encourage one another’s dreams and help one another through tough times. It is one of the most supportive groups I have ever been a part of. Kristen stood out to me as someone special because she reached out to me after reading some of my blog posts that detailed some rough times I was going through. I had never heard from her before and yet she offered so much kindness and support and continued to check up on me weeks later. I clicked through to her profile and discovered her business, Life Path Living, and its merchandise line, Life Path Tees.


For the full interview, please click here.
career, change, work

My Year of Hopefulness – Take Up the Torch

Christa Avampato

“Life is no brief candle, it’s a torch. I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on.” ~ George Bernard Shaw

I saw this quote by George Bernard Shaw on Twitter over the weekend. Someone sent it to me after reading my blog posts about my trip to Costa Rica and my plans for the future. Thinking of life as a torch, something we can and should wield as a powerful instrument to light up the world around us, reinforced my belief that if we are just subsisting and not doing our life’s work every day, then a change is necessary, sooner rather than later. As my mom often says, “we will not pass this way again. So make this pass count as much as you can.”

Yesterday a friend of mine was telling me about a conversation he recently had with his dad. His father told him that his job was my friend’s life’s work. My friend objected and then his dad asked him a few questions:

“Son, where do you spend the most hours of your day?”

“At work.”

“What do you think about for the most number of hours per day?”

“Work.”

“Then your job is your life’s work. How do you feel about that? Is it fulfilling?”

“No. I don’t get any fulfillment from it. It’s just a job,” my friend answered.

“Sounds like you better change it. You don’t want your life’s work to be just a job.”

These are harsh words that could have been said with a kinder voice, though the point is crystal clear. Where and with whom we spend most of our time is our life’s work. I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about where my energy and time is spent, and what that’s accomplishing. I spend a lot of my time volunteering, and a lot of that volunteering is done in the field of education. I come alive in a classroom of any kind whether I’m the student or the teacher, and classrooms can be found throughout our communities. It’s that learning environment that is so invigorating, that gives me the most hope for our future.

And so, in the words of my friend’s father, I am about to set to work on making a change to make that time in education my life’s work. When I think about how much good can be done there, how much I have to offer in that setting, I realize that my torch is growing brighter.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

change, future, relationships

My Year of Hopefulness – I Got my Whole Future in My Hands

Christa Avampato

“Put your future in good hands – your own.” ~ Anonymous

I read this quote a few days ago on Owning Pink’s Twitter account (@Owningpink), one of my very favorite accounts to check. It is always brimming with inspiring ideas. This one spoke to me quite clearly and was just the advice I needed. Taking our future into our own hands is a brave and frightening act, though once we accept it as a way to move forward, it really can move mountains.
Today I had to have a conversation that I have been dreading for some time now. I knew it was coming and I was nervous about it. I was afraid of what the reaction of the of the other person might be and I was afraid of my tendency toward blatant honesty. How delicately did I need to plead my case? Would I have to tap dance around what I really wanted to say, playing politics, or could I just get on with it?
No surprise that I went the honesty route. I explained how I wanted my future to unfold and where I thought the best place to do my life’s work would be. And a remarkable thing happened – the very person I was frightened of, the very person who I thought would not at all support my decision, stepped up and offered his hand. This person and I have on occasion had a rough go of it. We haven’t always seen eye-to-eye. As a matter of fact we’ve butted heads so often that it’s become a habit for us. And yet, there is some kind of magic that honesty breeds. Once he understood my point-of-view, he realized that he had the opportunity to make my dream come true, or at least to help it along in a significant way. And so, he did.
Before I went to see him, I took a deep breathe, smiled, and told myself, “you can do this. Just go in there with an honest heart and say exactly what you think.” I did. He listened. And before I even had to ask for help, before I even dared to ask for help, he offered it up with a smile. All my worrying had been for naught. He asked me to think it over, and make sure that this is really the direction I want to go in. I thanked him, knowing that I’ll be back to see him tomorrow, to tell him I’m ready to build the life I imagine, to thank him for his help, and to take my life into my own hands.
design, education, innovation, The Journal of Cultural Conversation

The Journal of Cultural Conversation – The Power of Design Thinking

Christa Avampato

Hello from The Journal of Cultural Conversation! Laura has just returned from her Peruvian adventures and I’ve trekked back from Costa Rica by way of Florida with the fam. All the while we’ve kept up our blogging, commenting, story-telling antics and anecdotes. We hope you’ll join us today for a conversation about the power of design thinking. Click here.