nathan chow:

What is missing in today’s classroom? What is the most important thing I teach to my middle schoolers? How do we use our classroom to get to world peace?

I believe that character education—especially lessons on love and respect—is missing in our education system and yet is the most important thing we should teach.

I gave a “TED Talk” (ted.com) at Boston University’s TEDxBU in February 2011. It was titled “The Missing Lesson: Character Lesson” and was meant to be very emotionally raw, inspirational, and entertaining.

Some live Tweets about my talk were “Nathan Chow is KILLING IT!”, “Mr. Chow’s got jokes!” and “Endearingly funny.”

Watch the informal video of my 7-minute talk for yourself!:

Better video of Nathan Chow’s TED Talk: The Missing Lesson: Character Education

My friend recorded this with her little digital camera, so the audio quality isn’t the best, but I liked how it captured audience reactions better than the official video (http://bit.ly/ncted11). Below is the planned speech with some corrections to what I actually said. Visuals timed perfectly were important in my talk, so make sure you’re watching the video, but refer to this transcript if there’s something you can’t hear. Enjoy!

Comments and feedback are always appreciated! =)

(I think, as a postscript, I want to say that I’m not an expert on character education. I was flattered but overwhelmed by the attention I received during the break for this TEDx event, as well as after it. I’m still a beginning teacher with lots of failures to take care of. As with most things in my life, I have a pretty clear and highly ambitious vision of what my classroom should look like and what my students should take away from having me as a teacher, but my successes are only sporadic at best. Still, some of my greatest strengths are in idea-making, vision, being different, and creativity—and I would always welcome having conversations and brainstorm sessions about character education and related topics!)

~~~

[First slide: Chalkboard-themed title page with talk title and my name]

Good afternoon and welcome to my classroom.

My name is Mr. Chow, but that usually makes me feel old, so let’s just go with Nathan for today.

Ummm.. people ask me all the time why I became a teacher. I tell them, first of all, it was not to make money. (pause) Well, that’s working really well…

(pause. wait for laughter to subside.)

I actually tell them that there are revolutions in teaching arts rather than just math and languages. There are revolutions in teaching children to enjoy the learning process rather than just aim for a test score. There are revolutions in diversified teaching rather than just lecturing. And thanks to Sir Ken Robinson and others, there are revolutions in embracing different talents and passions rather than just considering academic skills crucial to the world. We need dancers and entertainers, we need chefs, we need firefighters.

But rarely do we step back to teach what really matters to the world: character. It’s the most important but often missing lesson–and it’s what I feel most passionate about when teaching.

There are many aspects of character: focus, perseverance, respect, joy, teamwork, integrity. These are just a few, and I have a limited amount of time up here…

…6 minutes to be exact. Oh.. 4 minutes 45 seconds, 4 minutes 44, 43… (nervous sigh) At least now I know what it would feel like to win an Oscar tomorrow.

Alright, limited time. Let’s get straight to the point and only talk about the aspect of character that I truly believe is the most important: love!

We-need-to-teach-our-children HOW. TO. LOVE!

[new slide: book cover of Kama Sutra!!]

Whooops.. wrong lecture. That’s for TEDxxx.

(pause. wait for laughter to subside)

(what actually happened and what I said: “I actually pressed that slide way too early…”)

[new slide: chalkboard with a heart drawn on it]

I repeat to my students: It’s important to gain knowledge, but it’s more important to give love.

(slowly, quietly) Put stuff in (point to head), give this out (pretend to pull heart out).

(walk to sign language interpreter; directed at her:)

Put stuff in (point to head), give this out (pretend to pull heart out). Got it? Yeah, that’s an easy one. (thumbs up)

(pause. wait for laughter to subside.)

We must not only develop our talents. We must use them for the greater good of the world.

This works on a small scale: One day one of my 6th grade students told me her friend was absent because her long-time boyfriend just broke up with her. I asked her how long they’ve been going out. She said… A long time—eight weeks! I told my student that when she goes home, she should push her homework aside and call her friend. Talk to her, spend the night with her, give her a hug.

When we push academics too hard and ignore the character lessons—no matter how small—we are essentially telling our students that tests are the most important thing in life. (shake head slightly) Let us not forget the human side of teaching.

This also works on a large scale: If you learn something at this event today, then when you exit those doors (point to back)—…or these (point to sides) if there happens to be a fire soon–if you learn something at this event today, then you put stuff in (put to head). When you leave, give this out (pretend to pull heart out).

I have an idea worth spreading. But I am afraid of public speaking. But I still chose to be up here today. And I still choose to stand in front of my classroom every day.

All the knowledge in the world is useless—maybe even detrimental—if we don’t learn to use it for the greater good of the world. Cast away your fears and your idleness.

(pause 5 seconds)

Ideas worth spreading (point to head). Actions worth doing (pretend to pull heart out).

Learn it. Then do it. And do it for the right reasons.

What if we teach a student all the skills necessary for success but never teach her about character? We might get this:

[new slide: “Corrupt business executive” is written up top with a photo of money being exchanged in a sketchy way.]

What if we teach a student to enjoy learning on his own, to experiment with knowledge in the wee hours of morning, but never teach him about character? We might get this:

[new slide: "Computer hacker" is written up top with a photo of a hand in black gloves typing on a keyboard.]

And what if we teach a student public speaking, intense determination, and fierce leadership but leave out the lessons on love? We might get this:

[new slide: "Hitler" is written up top with a photo of Hitler and a Nazi flag.]

(pause 5 seconds)

(serious, concerned look at audience)

(in a whisper) I REALLY wish I had a joke for you right now.

We can teach students to reach their full potential but not teach them about love.

That’s a scary thought.

[new slide: chalkboard with a heart drawn on it--same as earlier in the talk]

It’s important to gain knowledge, but it’s more important to give love.

(pause 5 seconds)

John Lennon once sang, “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”

[new slide: cartoon earth with children of different colors holding hands to circle around it]

Do you want this? (pause 5 seconds. wait for audience response?)

(whisper) I do too.

[new slide: cartoon red brickhouse school with a bell on top]

It starts in school. We have to teach it.

Thank you.

(gesture: point to head, pretend to pull heart out, throw it out to audience!)

~~~

I hope you enjoyed it!

To Education and Beyond!,
“Mr. Chow”.. formerly known as Nathan Chow

P.S. If you are into this whole peace, love, and happiness movement, I’d also like to invite you to check out my other blog dedicated to these topics at http://oncewelive.com.

As we’ve seen in recent news, your next insult or cruel joke—even if small—can push someone over to suicide. And as we’ve seen on sites like http://givesmehope.com, your next compliment or positive gesture—even a smile at a stranger—can save someone from a life of depression. Small acts are tipping points. Be aware of the power of your actions. Think before you do anything. Imagine that you are always the deciding factor. The world is yours to enliven or destroy—one person at a time.

Love Always,
Nathan

“fallen”

by nathan s. chow

——–
the scene:

a new apartment bedroom, late at night.

other than a made mattress temporarily pushed to the side on the floor and a few big boxes lining the walls, not much else is in the bedroom yet, although the soft orange glow from a floor lamp’s paper shade single-handedly makes the room cozy.

seated in the middle of the bedroom floor, along with a few tools and a packet of screws and dowels: him and her, facing each other. a 90% finished wooden bed frame is the only thing that separates them.

it’s quiet and the room could really use some music—or at least a ticking clock—but they’re oddly—and beautifully—comfortable without it.

——–

after secretly watching the time on his cell phone for the last 30 minutes, he finally says it:

- him: i think you missed the last T.
~ her: what time is it?
- after 12:30.
~ no, usually i can still catch one before 1.

he glances up from the board he’s screwing.

~ her: but it’s okay. i’ll stay to help you finish this.
- you sure? it’s almost done.
~ yeah, it’s fine. i wanna help you finish.

he looks back down to pretend he’s working so he could say this casually:

- okay. well, if you don’t wanna walk back, you can stay over again.
~ i’ll see how tired i get.

it’s quiet again.

~ her: this really does look like a bookcase.
- yeah.

he glances at the assembly instruction book. he flips the page, then scans it and flips one more to confirm the last page is blank.

- him: alright. last step before we put the big boards on.. and then we’re done.

he reaches over the bed frame to hand her some metal dowel pieces.

- him: just put these into all those holes along the sides and the middle.
~ her: ‘kay.
(she points toward the head and foot of the frame.)
these too?
- yeah.

they insert dowels in their sides of the frame. halfway done with his side, he struggles with one of them.

~ her (with a smirk): can’t get it in?

their eyes meet as he shakes his head, holding back a smile.

she proceeds to insert dowels into the middle, head, and foot of the frame while he still struggles with the last one on his side.

as she finishes the whole frame, he gives up and puts the dowel down.

- him: remind me never to buy furniture from this company.
~ can’t you hammer it in again?
- now?? do i need to remind you what time it is?
~ time for your neighbors to think you’re finally having wild sex with that girl who always visits…?
- time for wishful thinking?

it’s her turn to hold back a smile.

- him: no, i really can’t. or i shouldn’t. that old russian couple below is gonna start givin’ me dirty looks again.

she thinks, where’s that adventurous side of him?

~ her:
one: you wanted your bed done tonight.
two: they hate you already.
and three: you already did some screwing on the floor. a little hammering won’t do any harm.
c’monnn. hammer away!
- wow…

because nothing ever does, she loves it in the rare case that she shocks him.

he stares at the bed frame for a moment and decides:

- him: okay, come here. you’re gonna help me do it in the air.

she coughs up a sudden laugh.

~ her: what!?
- him: shhhh!! (he puts his finger to his lips)
i said..
(in between laughter—not much quieter than hers)
..you’re gonna help me do it matrix style.
(he continues laughing at his own joke)
you’re gonna help me hammer this in the air.
~ are you serious? (she can never tell.)
- yes! (still with a mischievous smile.) come here. (even his eyes say it.)

she stands up and walks around the bed frame to him, not sure what she’s in for but always ready for another one of their silly adventures. their budding relationship had always reminded her of a quote by rose franken in her only married friend’s facebook profile: “anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly.”

was that the secret to good relationships? was that the spark missing in all the other dates she’s ever gotten since her last boyfriend? all of them were desirable, but all of them tried too hard to impress her, all of them always felt the need to have some sorta plan. none of them could let loose like this one…

why did he like her anyway? he’s had as many chances as her. out of all those girls he knew, why her? she glows during her short walk as if she’s one of the lucky ones called to the stage for some game show.

meanwhile, as he sits there with that last, lonely dowel at his knee, he watches her every step as she comes closer and closer. he watches her smile at him, he watches her tuck her hair behind her ear, but mostly, he watches her face—her face bathed in the soft orange glow of his floor lamp. he was mesmerized. it was just like that day they saw each other again for the first time since the summer: she had worn a sun dress whose top came undone for a moment. she asked him if he saw anything. he smirked and said no, but it wasn’t a lie. he was too distracted by her beautiful face, like now.

as she nears and smells his cologne, she doesn’t want to sit yet when she realizes just how close they’ll be. no more bed frame separating them. no more distance, no more safety, no more caution.

they were exposed.

she swallowed and decided:

~ i’m gonna use the bathroom first.
- alright. but you don’t need to flush.
~ why?
- i don’t wanna wake my roommate up.
~ you’re allowed to hammer but i can’t flush?
- you told me to!
~ i was joking!
- you were? (he knows she was.) too late.
~ i’ll flush softly.
- you’ll flush softly? how do you flush softly?
~ don’t worry about it.

she giggles as she roughs his hair on her way out the door.

while she’s away, he thinks of how close they’ve started to become this past week, how they reached that stage when neither of them was afraid of inviting each other to the most trivial of activities—grocery shopping, studying outside, cooking, assembling furniture—but he also thinks of how they could still be closer. he loved not just the adorable way she laughs, but especially how often. he admired it, desired it. he already considered themselves partners—not boyfriend, girlfriend—no, they never even kissed yet—but partners. there was something about that word that rang so true in describing them. partners…

he picks up the dowel and rolls it between his fingers before trying to squeeze it into the hole one more time.

meanwhile, in the bathroom’s dim light, she checks herself out in the mirror. she rinses her face, scrubbing off a little patch of dry skin. did he notice that? or the whitehead? she knows he’ll think she’s attractive regardless of anything, but she still wanted to look her best, still wanted to be called beautiful by him again.

she fixes her hair and flushes the toilet she never used. she’s ready.. but for some reason, she’s still completely drawn to her image in the mirror. she continues staring at it, remembering the party she and her roommates hosted two nights ago:

—
she had disappeared to her bedroom mirror to pretend to put on new earrings, but really, she just wanted some time to herself—and to see if he would follow. after what seemed like eternity, a quiet knock came at her slightly open door. in the mirror, she was able to see his face peer in, framed by the door and wall. their eyes met in the mirror. she liked to imagine his concerned but cute look meant he was thinking, “where were you?”

it was exactly what he was thinking. as much as he enjoyed meeting new people at her party—and as much as he had enjoyed meeting new girls in the whole year since his last relationship ended, he liked her too much not to notice she was missing. out of all the girls he’s had chances with, she was the only one who just seemed.. right—and he oddly loved that feeling of starting to surrender to someone again.

“you look beautiful already,” he had said to her. he closed her bedroom door and made his way to her as she followed his eyes in the mirror. he hugged her from behind: his body pressed against hers, his arms wrapped around her neck, his chin resting on her shoulder. “but this looks even better,” he whispered to the two of them in the mirror together. there was no reaction from him or her. no smiles, no words. just thoughts.

that was the moment she fell for him—how could she not?—and it was inevitable that ever since, every time she looked in a mirror and saw the empty space next to her, she thought of that moment, of him—of them—and of the quiet conversation they had afterwards lying on her bed for hours amidst the loud music and craziness beyond the walls of her bedroom. they felt so special and exclusive there—like partners, knowing they were both abandoning everyone else, knowing they had absolutely everything they wanted right there in that bedroom already.

but at the time, they were still too afraid to touch, too afraid to kiss.
—

she flips off his bathroom light and makes her way back to his bedroom. tonight might be different, she thought.

- him: that was totally not a soft flush.
~ her (with a smile): you try.
- i wasn’t the one who said i could flush softly.
~ why? is yours always hard?
- i.. think i corrupted you.

she temporarily puts her hand on his back as she sits next to him on the floor.

- him: okay, so i need you to hold the frame up like this..
(he lifts one side of the bed frame up just a few inches.)
..so i can hammer the dowel in without making too much noise below.
~ her (laughing at him): this isn’t gonna make much of a difference.
- you gonna whine or you gonna hold it?

she kneels.

her hands take over the bed frame as he gets up, but it’s too heavy for her.

he quickly crouches to help.

- him: let me go down.

he eyes her hands: her lonely thumbs sticking out of the sides of the frame as her fingers are grasping the bottom.

even though he wishes he could be bold enough to place his hands under hers and hold them like he wants to hold her—or at least place his hands snug close to hers—he places one just close enough so their skin can touch for a moment.

- him: i got it.

she lets her hands linger on the frame—cherishing the few seconds their skin was touching—not ready to let go. she knows what he did, and he knows what she did.

i got it, he reminds her.

she takes her hands off as he supports the frame with just one hand.

they switch positions as he kneels and she gets up. he puts both hands on the frame.

- him: grab the hammer and a nail from that packet.

after doing so, she puts the nail in the hole and before striking it, says:

~ you were serious about this, right?
- yeah.

she looks skeptical. she hesitates making the noise.

- him (imitating her from before): c’monnn! hammer away!
~ shut up.

she hits the nail softly. tap tap tap.

- him: harder…

she eyes him, trying to sense what’s too loud.

TAP TAP tap tap.

- him: okay, this isn’t gonna work. you need to hit it hard enough in various parts of the hole to make it big enough for the dowel.
~ her: that’s what she said…

they freeze and laugh together at how ridiculous they look.

suddenly, she pretends to put her serious face on.

BOOM BOOM BOOM.

~ her: this hard enuff for ya?

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM.

it’s too loud.

- him: alright, stopstopstopstop.

BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM.

- him: stop!

BOOOOOOM BOOOOOOM BOOOOOOOOOOOOM.

- him: stop!!!

she bursts out laughing.

- him: ohhh my god.

he watches her cute laugh as her body wiggles uncontrollably and she covers her mouth with the knuckles of her free hand. any guy would want to hug her.

and this is exactly why i like her, he thinks.

she calms down.

~ her: there’s something hard at the bottom of that hole. the nail won’t go in.

it’s his turn to look at her skeptically.

~ her: i swear. your furniture is deformed.
- you mean it’s defective?
~ no, it’s deformed. (she giggles a little more.)

he sets the frame back down and tries hammering the nail in, not caring about the neighbors below. it won’t budge.

~ her: so much for doing it matrix style…
- okay, forget about this. it’s one dowel. i’m sure this piece of crap will hold together without it.

he puts the hammer and nail down.

- him: so just help me fit those on top. (he points to the four big slabs of wood with his chin.)

they walk over to the pile of wood and lift one up together. they fit it onto the frame by matching its holes with the frame’s dowels sticking up.

- him: or actually.. i’ll get the wood and you just push them down.
~ her: ‘kay.

they work quietly during the second and third slabs.

when he picks up the fourth and sets it onto the frame, she pushes the edges down onto the dowels.

she gets to the middle one—the “deformed” part—and says:

~ this frame is bound to break. you’re gonna die in your sleep.
- i’m gonna put the mattress on top and you’re gonna test it out for me, okay?
~ uhhh no. you wish. you just want me on your bed.
- we can die together.
~ that’s so sweet.

they go over to the wall to lift one side of the mattress. they drag it onto the top of his new platform bed frame. together they push the mattress to the center of it.

he walks to the other side to check that the mattress is centered.

the finished frame, in a random, awkward position in the middle of the room, not even parallel to the walls—separates them once more.

- him: oookay. get on.
~ no way. you go.
- it was one dowel. did you see how many others were holding the top in place?
~ yeah, and did you see how many screws you had to hammer into the base all day before we tried that last one in the air?
- definition of a true all-nighter.
~ i’m not getting on that.

she knows it’s probably safe, but just for the sake of playfulness, she wants to pretend to be afraid. this was unlike her real fear since her last breakup: the fear of trusting a new guy. it took a while, but that was eventually dissolved by him. when she first noticed he liked her, she thought it was just another one of their jokes. but he persisted and there was never a punchline. she was flattered by his commitment to her and his patience in waiting until she was ready for him. she was able to depend on him for anything.. and he was always able to put her at this special, magical sense of ease, this sense of letting go and living.

was she supposed to think about this stuff anyway? or was she supposed to just “go with it”—the way he was so good at?

- him: you’re getting on!

she snaps out of her thoughts and sees him jogging around the bed frame towards her, ready to push her onto the bed.

~ her: AHHHHH!

she tries to dodge him, but he grabs her in a half-hug, half-wrestling grasp. she manages to turn her body away from the bed, but he rotates her so her back is facing the bed once again.

~ her (giggling): noooo! i’m not getting on!
- (in between final struggles) yes. you. are.

he gets her near the edge of the bed and releases his hands from his grip around her waist and back so he could push her shoulders.

as she falls backwards onto the bed, it slides enough with her momentum that a third of the mattress hangs in mid-air over the frame, with her head hanging over the edge of the mattress, looking at the wall behind her.

she hadn’t even noticed, but while she was trying to break free from his grip, her own arms were tightly wrapped under his armpits and grasping his back, as if holding him close to her, as if wanting them both to fall together…

so there they were: him, on top of her, on top of a hanging mattress, on top of a 99% finished bed frame sloppily sitting smack in the middle of the room—all in the middle of the night, all immersed in orange light.

she surrenders. she lets her right arm slip off his back and fall onto the mattress, her hand close to her head but not quite drooping over the mattress. her left arm stays loosely rested on his back.

it wasn’t to pin her down—no, she was his already—but he doesn’t know why he fit his left hand into her right hand, their fingers finally intertwining and locking like puzzle pieces. it just seemed automatic, seemed right—like her.

with her head arched toward the back wall, he couldn’t see her face, but she wanted him to know that she wanted this too, that the softness and warmth of his hands said so much about his personality that she fell for and could resist no longer.

all she could do was think about it—about how their hands and legs were intertwined, about how tightly their bodies were pressed together, about how good this felt to be so close to him. all she could do was blink once at the blank, undecorated wall behind her, until…

CLACKKK—some part of the bed frame breaks and..

BOOM—the foot of the foundation splits in two and that end of the mattress falls to the floor, making the frame and mattress look like a ramp.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHahahahahahahaha!!—her shriek as if she were coming down a roller coaster transforms into laughter.

~ her: it’s deformed!

ACCCCK—the head of the frame starts to creak. it’s on the verge of breaking and dropping the whole mattress to the floor…

she shakes with hysteria as he puts his right forefinger on her lips.

she uses her energy to lift her head up so their eyes meet.

shhhhh, he says with a calm smile, knowing that anything they say would be too small for what they’re feeling.

she melts a little.

at ease. it’s magic. it’s HIM. but her heart beats faster. could he hear that?

you know we’re gonna fall, she whispers.
i know, he says.

he moves his right hand to run through some of her hair before cupping the side of her face, supporting her head so it wouldn’t have to hang.

their eyes lock. she blinks.

ACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK—the head of the frame creaks some more.

anytime now, the frame that once separated them would come crashing down.

his left hand holds onto her hand a little tighter, his right thumb caresses her cheek a little softer.

they’re close enough to inspect everything about each other. they think about how incredibly beautiful they would look even if they weren’t bathed in the orange light. nope, the orange light was too candle-ish for them, too romantic, too passionate. they didn’t need that. these two were partners, these two were silly. these two were meant to be real lovers.

for a moment, the creaking takes over.

they look at each other the way first kisses begin..

..and the last piece snaps.

three different passages by my film professor Ray Carney in his book “Why Art Matters”:

“Life is mysterious, but its mysteries are entirely different from the mystifications in L.A. Confidential, Blood Simple, Blue Velvet, or Psycho. Their mysteries are shallow. They can be cleared up with a few words of explanation. Their puzzlements are trivial—matters of fact and event, of who did what to whom. Make a film about real mysteries, mysteries that don’t involve facts but feelings—like the mystery of who we are, the mystery of why we do hurtful things to ourselves and others, the mystery of why the effects of our actions can be so different from our intentions, the mystery of why we can never see ourselves as others see us.”

“Slasher pictures are too tame. Emotional violence is far worse than physical. Casual remarks cut more deeply than Freddy Kruger’s blades. The masks we wear are scarier than Jason’s—and don’t come off. The irrationality of our doubts and despairs is more frightening than any monster’s rampage.”

“Never forget that to be an artist is, above everything else, to be a truth-teller, one of the few left in a culture seized in a death-grip by media-induced fictions and journalistic cliches. You speak secrets no one else dares to whisper. You exist to share your most private feelings and personal observations with others. They are where truth lies. Don’t be afraid of being too personal, too private. Your most secret fears, your private doubts and uncertainties are everyone’s.”

Today my roommate’s best friend complimented me in a way I hadn’t heard in a while when she said my voice is “very calm and soothing” and that it puts her “at ease.”

I’m not really sure how much I believe what I say in the next few passages, but I’m just gonna toy with an idea:

Few people compliment others’ voices. It’s always clothes, accessories, and hair styles that we notice and can easily make statements about. But after thinking about the compliment I had just received and how it was in line with my personality (or at least how I think of myself), I realized how accurate of a judgment you can make of someone just by listening to their voice.

Actions depend on circumstance and setting, clothes depend on fashion sense, and posture sometimes depends on just how comfortable it is. But voice stays relatively consistent. At big social gatherings, I can very easily act crazy and be an attention whore, while in classrooms, I am often an obedient and reserved teacher’s pet. Obviously I would raise my voice at a party, but whether party or classroom, I think my voice pretty much stays the same. Other ways of judging me may be accurate every now and then, but judging me by voice gives you a picture of the core of my personality.

Think of some of your friends and what their voices say about them. Is the voice soft, loud, weak, powerful, energetic, lively, monotone, blah, fast, slow, rushed, calm, shrill, piercing, stuttered, overly formal?

Compliment them! Even if someone’s voice has a traditionally “negative” quality to it, it probably says something positive about the person’s character. A weak voice probably means a chill personality. A piercing voice probably means a fun personality. Point it out and your friend may be pleasantly surprised by something few people notice about them!

tuesday 2/26:

i’m directing a 3-minute short film based on a scene in a little-known 10-minute play that was produced on stage only once. the project is for a 500-level film directing class, and the teacher is emphasizing director-actor relations and emotional realism more than technicalities. later when we film the projects, we’re using only consumer-level video cameras.

my actors jim and kelley performed the scene in class today. we’ve had only 3 meetings together, but i think they’re doing great. to “toughen us up” and to motivate changes for the actual film, my teacher (who has directed episodes of Law and Order) heavily criticized my direction, the scene, and the performances.

the scene is about two college kids who recently broke up. the guy goes to the girl’s dorm just to pick up class notes, but the girl wants him to stay longer – and she wants him back, regretting her decision to break up. she shows him her new belly button ring, which throws him off-guard because when they were going out, he was always telling her to get it. he’s lured into gently touching her belly button’s bruise, but he also tells her that she should take the ring out even if she “wants it now.” the film is an exploration of confusing desires, the ways we change after breakups, and bruised relationships.

wednesday 2/27:

i went to the monthly Student Activities Office (SAO) consortium meeting to represent the juggling club. one of the few meetings i missed was the one where we listened to people pitch ideas for clubs and voted on which would make it. i really wanted to do that, but i don’t think they’re gonna have it again until the beginning of next year.

thursday 2/28:

marisa: nathan, what’s your middle name?
sarah: it’s scott.
marisa: no it’s not.
nathan: why not?
marisa: it really is?
nathan: yeah.
marisa: but you’re chinese, right?
nathan: are you saying i have to be something like nathan mao zedong chow?

later in the conversation:
marisa: guess what my middle name is.
(her parents are from italy)
nathan: bella.
marisa: no.
sarah: just tell him. he’ll never guess it.
marisa: magnifica.
nathan: wait, what?
marisa: magnifica.
(i burst out laughing.)

later later in the conversation:
kayla: guess what my middle name is.
amy: it’s very black.
sarah: no, her first name is black.
nathan: shoniqua?
kayla: no.
sarah (singing): it’s kaaayla. kayla celeeeste. all the men waaant her… (sorry, i can’t capture the catchiness of her personal theme song here)

friday 2/29:

i had a very international dinner. it was with two guys from italy, one from bahrain, one from serbia, one from puerto rico, one from china… and one girl from.. illinois.

i love friday night naps after busy weeks.

saturday 3/1:

i went to the chinese student association’s spicy food contest. i didn’t compete because you had to pay a small fee.. and because it was as much a speed-eating contest as it was a spicy food contest. and you all know i’m THE slowest eater ever. but i was there for free samples.. and to root for some of my friends in it. my friend rahul ahuja actually won (juggler pride!). and while i was sitting in the audience, i met one of his friends ken, an old man who was his neighbor over the summer. we had a nice random conversation about epic filmmaking, Citizen Kane, and the Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski.

the dining halls served chinese food today for chinese new year. the spring rolls, shui mei, and dumplings were good, but the chicken and beef were just ok. i wish they had duck, roast pork, and soup with black mushrooms, cabbage, and bean curd sticks (which is best when made by mom).

after dinner, i spontaneously followed sarah w. and marisa to the BU choral society’s “Spring POPS Concert” at CFA. we ran to catch the bus. well, actually we walked really fast. well, actually that was only me and marisa. sarah was probably busy preparing her next post-it weapon to use against me.

at the concert, i heard kayla, amy, and kelly sing (twice, cuz i was the only idiot who walked in on the rehearsal lol). all of them were awesome. i sat with sandy s., sarah, erin, marisa, and scott.

on the bus ride back to east campus, i had a staring contest with kayla and marisa. they couldn’t come close to winning. =P

later in the evening, miguel helped me videotape my juggling for a video project. i used my 3.2 MP digital camera’s video function and windows moviemaker to make a video for a 500-level post-production class… sad but true. i was mac-less, footage-less, and camcorder-less and couldn’t borrow a camera from COM or find time to use an editing suite. nonetheless, thank you so much, miguel!

i can say i miss the gentle hills rolling far in the distance,
and i can say i miss the low clouds i could almost touch,
and i can say i miss the whiffs of wind in the morning,
and i can say i miss the simmering sun on a hot day,
and i can say i miss the stars on every clear night,
and i can even say i miss the whole camp.

but to say just that would be a lie.

because i really miss my kids.

- Nathan