Two Weeks Deep, Don't Think Twice, 'Cause There's No Second One, Only Second Chances

In true Sesame Street fashion, this weeks blog is brought to you by the number two. In the pantheon of numerical order, I think the number two is often forgotten. It falls behind the first number of the alphabet, comes before three (third times a charm, lucky number three, etc.), and generally has an awkward form when being written (do I make the loop at the bottom/do I not/does it matter/will my first grade teacher Mrs. Duddy slap my hand with the metal edge of a ruler again for number two writing insubordination?). But, the number two has given us some of the greatest number related references in history: two birds with one stone, number 2 pencil, and of course, the greatest, taking a number two. This week has been no different for me.

First, let's address the elephant in the room. Yes, the Colts lost the Super Bowl. Shit happens. Truth is, it's all my fault. I wore my Colts t-shirt today, but it never felt like today was actually the Super Bowl. I didn't even go out to watch it and I only woke up 10 minutes before kick off. I feel like my lack of preparedness both mentally and physically were somehow related to this letdown, and for that, I'm sorry. Kudos to the Saints. If there is any team I wouldn't mind winning the Lombardi, it's the Saints. Even though Drew Brees was the inspiration for a certain Austin Powers character. Although they got there, there wasn't to be a second Super Bowl, and it's all my fault. On the other hand, Mardi Gras will be sick. You think the guys from Girls Gone Wild are already halfway to New Orleans with about 324 cameras and two garbage trucks full of beads? I think so.

Even though this was the first full week of work here, I'm now two weeks deep into my Washington D.C. experience. So let's run through week one.

Fantastic. Incredible. Amazing. How many cliche words can I dramatically list set off from the other paragraphs for dramatic purposes?

(As a side note. We started working Tuesday at 1pm. We finally finished Sunday at 3pm. Count it up. That is a total of 122 hours. How many we were on the books for? 85 hours. Yes, that's right. We averaged approximately 7 hours and 24 minutes of free time a day, and that means sleep time, too, so if I haven't kept in touch with you, I apologize. There were afternoons where I swore I was tripping on 20 Dramamine mixed with a handful of NyQuil. In other words, I spent the week looking and feeling like an extra from "Thriller".)

Twenty-one kids, from California, Texas, New York, Tennessee, Michigan, even Indiana, and everywhere in-between were in my group. Tuesday afternoon, they sat, heads down, toeing the ground hard enough to dig holes in the carpet, afraid to breathe too loud. Today, at our final meeting, they were hugging each other, crying, exchanging e-mails and phone numbers. To watch the growth of students you are responsible for over any period of time is a neat feeling. I've had that feeling so many times, and each time, it's a satisfying experience that's really unparalleled. But, for some reason this time was extremely moving for me. It could be a thousand things. Where I am in life, where this job is, who they are as people - whatever it is, this has been, as I said, an incredible experience.

Highlights:

• Wednesday, I noticed one of my students sitting alone during dinner. He's from near where I went to school in Indiana. So I went over and had dinner with him, talked about jazz and different parts of the state, how he liked school and the program so far. Shortly thereafter, two other students came by wanting to sit with me. I introduced the students, got them talking, and excused myself to get another drink and never came back. Today, I saw those same three students all hanging out, taking pictures together. I smiled a little.
• Thursday night, the students listened to different speakers from the defense, diplomatic, and intelligence sectors of our government. Afterwords, they attended a career fair with various intelligence branches, military schools, and people from related career fields. I spent more than the recommended amount of time discussing networking, talking about the various twists and turns my life has taken based on random chance and people I've met by complete accident/fate. I stressed the importance of impressions, firm handshakes, genuine interest. I watched as other students ran to tables to grab the "swag" these companies bring to lure in students and run back to their friends as if a free lanyard was a trophy of excellence. Three of my students were late getting back to the classroom. They were asked to stay after to talk with a member of one of the military schools, who gave them his personal information. All the students said they were more prepared than any other group. Was it true? Probably not. But they believed in themselves, and that's 99% of the battle.
• We had a black sheep. Every group I've ever worked with does, that one kid who stands out, says the wrong thing at the wrong time, rubs everyone the wrong way, doesn't seem to have an inner-monologue. It was hard, as respectful and courteous as the students were, to shield him at times from their barbs. Saturday, as we discussed the importance of respect to those at Arlington Cemetery, he gave one of the most thought-provoking, deep, incredibly moving statements I've ever heard. The students all cheered for him. Today, at our final meeting, he told everyone how much he appreciated them. They all had a group hug and said how much they cared for him and loved his personality and opinions. I didn't join the group hug, because it took me back to all the other students who I watched in the same way, with the same admiration, names that I still remember to this day and always will.
• At our final meeting today, my students reiterated what they had said all week: That they love having me as their faculty adviser, they were sad they were leaving, they wanted pictures and to know if I'd stay in touch. There were hugs, some tears (not from me), beautiful final messages. I watched a group of bright, young, talented students grow like driveway weeds, sprouting new frames of thought and confidence in only six days and realized this -

I'm sitting here at 24 years old, having felt like my life has done nothing but dramatically shift since I was a child, a decade plus of seemingly dead ends and hopeless roads that turn to dust. Then I see how these students reacted, how much they appreciated me for me and how I could help them. Coincidentally, I received a slew of messages from my students in Monterrey Friday night and had a heap full of scholars not even from my group asking to take pictures with me the last day, saying they would miss me, too.

I also have a link to pictures from this week. What, what!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2062533&id=22102032&l=f98874ed63

Finally, each night, because the days are so hectic and a moment of peace if as hard to find as someone who thinks Sarah Palin would be a good President and doesn't believe that Mormons planted dinosaurs in the ground, I would chill out in the lobby of one of the buildings here and relax with some Bob Dylan.

And it happened. I think I've made one of the biggest decisions of my entire life.

I love Bob Dylan more than The Beatles.

Now, before you start chastising me - the Beatles are the greatest rock band ever. Without The Beatles, we'd have had Lady GaGa twenty years ago and by now hermaphrodite acts would be as popular as the Jonas Brothers. So, that's a good thing, you know? But what makes Dylan my go-to choice for listening pleasure?

First of all, I love the simplicity. Acoustic guitar, a harmonica, maybe a little drum snare here and there. Second, people always bash his voice, but that's what makes Dylan, well, Dylan. It's a voice of the people - a smoky, cracked, strained, untrained set of pipes that could come straight from a Michigan line worker or a West Virginia coal miner. It's a voice of the people telling the stories of the people. Finally, his lyrics - just, amazing. While he has some real stinkers (sorry, I think Ballad of a Thin Man is shite), the majority of his songs just hit you right where it counts, right when you need it.

I've always found it difficult for pin down a favorite song for artists I really love. Don't even ask me about one for The Beatles - how large of a list of potential candidates can I have? Thirty songs? Forty?

Dylan - I have fallen in love with Don't Think Twice, It's Alright. Never gave it a shot before. Can't get enough of it now. Amazing. And it has a deviation of the number two in it. So there you go. What a way to wrap it up.

Now on to week number two starting on TWOs-day. (That's a stretch, yes, but I don't care. Get yo' own damn blog if you got a problem with it.)

p.s. - Shameless plug. Sort of. This is a link to a student-film that my good friend Jeremy Brok made in 2006. I recently put it up on YouTube because a lot of our friends were in it, and making it was a ton of fun and now that we have to face the real world, I guess this takes us back to a time when things were as easy as being dumbasses in front of a camera. The other three parts are linked on the video somewhere. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGztfPhy5bw