Updates

It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write.  In a world of information overload, it is oftentimes difficult to convince myself to add another voice to the millions; that I would have anything new or different to tell.  More and more though, I do not like what it is that I find myself reading, whether on facebook or on the news, and so I’ve sat down to write, to add my voice to the millions, because if I don’t speak then who is there to tell my story? 

I began writing, mostly in my journal, as a way to process life when the walls of my previously stable life began crashing down around me, and for the most part, that is still why I write: to process, to make sense of this world.  I must confess, writing continues to be, for me, extremely selfish.  I want to be heard.  I want to explain myself, for myself and to the world.  I want to share my journey with others because I’m desperate to find some sort of connection with those I love and have left physically in other parts of the world.  I write because I believe that my voice matters.  Which isn’t always true.  And so I write to convince myself that- regardless of the fact that I am one of millions, that my voice may or may not add something new to this world- my voice matters.  If I believe nothing else about this world, or about my place in the world, I have to believe that my voice matters.  And so, before I continue, I want to take a moment to say thank you.  Thank you for traveling with me this far, and if you’ll continue reading, I’ll actually tell you about my life.

For those of you who don’t know, I’m now working as a Kitchen Assistant.  And before you judge too harshly, let me tell you about why I love it, and why I’m not changing jobs anytime soon (you’re welcome Mare).  I’m working in a kitchen.  I make food, really good food, and I’m learning so much.  Breakfast, lunch, dinner, desserts, snacks, we do it all.  In a typical day, we serve 50-60 people three meals a day, which for many of the students who eat our food, is more than they’ve ever had.  And since I mentioned our students, let me tell you about them.  They’re brilliant. And creative.  And funny.  And fearless.  Most of them live in southern California, and go to school at alternative schools because public school hasn’t worked out for them.  For all of you public school teachers out there, don’t take this personal.  I greatly admire the work you do, and your commitment to making the world a better place, one student and one day at a time.  Systematically however, our public school system is falling apart and no longer is able to support some of the most vulnerable students in this country, those who raise themselves and their younger siblings; those who move from home to home, and often school district to school district; those who have been taught fight or flight since the day they were born, and so feel that their only way to respond to conflict (internal or external) is to run away or lash out.  When you can’t sleep at home out of fear of drunk parents, when you move from school to school, when you have to work 30+ hours a week to put food on the table for your younger siblings, it’s hard to think about fractions, or grammar.  When you can’t see past the end of the week, it’s hard to believe that grades matter, because you’re never going to be in one place long enough to have them, or see their effects.  These are our students.

Not all of them come from as difficult of backgrounds as what I’ve just described, but these students are not the minority here at the Ranch.  The unifying factor for all of our students is that they attend one of the many Options for Youth, Opportunities for Learning, or Pathways in Education schools in California and, increasingly now, across the country.  These schools are not your traditional school classroom setting.  Each student enrolled receives an advisor/ primary teacher who is responsible for all of their credits.  At some schools, there are teachers who teach “normal” classes in math, science, reading, and the social sciences.  Other teachers spend all their time tutoring students one-on-one to get them caught up to their grade-level standards.  The learning that goes on in these classrooms is mostly independent study.  Each student receives a packet, or workbook, that has both the lesson and the exercises in it.  It is up to the students to complete their packet, and turn it in to their advisor to be graded.  In this way, students can complete their “units” and receive credits at their own pace; and attend class on their own schedule.  Many of our students, especially those who have jobs, only go to school twice a week to turn in their packets, ask questions, and get their next packet.  I have never been to one of these schools, and so cannot say personally how well this system works, but for most of our students, this option is a way for them to complete high school on their own time frame and to graduate with a high school diploma.  I’m not saying this system is perfect.  It does however, offer our students the ability to complete a high school education, even with all of the other shit going on in their lives. 

Our students at the Ranch all come from these schools.  Every two weeks, we get a new group of approximately 35 students.  Many of them have never been on an airplane before, and here they are, living on a small ranch in the middle of the Rocky Mountains.  These students stay for 11 days; during this time they get to ride horses and hike in the National Forest; they get 20 staff members who work with them daily, who share their struggles and listen to their stories; they get to make friends across racial and cultural lines, and witness a shared humanity that comes from living with people for 11 days.  If you’ve ever worked at camp, you get this.  Sure, we teach them about the natural history of Colorado, and how to write a 5 paragraph essay.  We also teach them how to look inside themselves and see qualities that no one has ever told them they could embody.  You are brave, we tell them.  You are smart, you are beautiful, you are valued, you are loved; we show them.   This life is yours, and you can make of it whatever you want.  There will be challenges, and there will be people who laugh in your face and send you back to the streets.  Do not let them tell you who you are and what you can accomplish in life.  Do not let them write your story.  You matter.  You are loved.  This is what we get to do at the Ranch. 

And so, here in this beautiful, crazy place, I work in the Kitchen.  I worked for eight months in student programming, and it was exhausting.  Rewarding and absolutely worth it, but exhausting.  And then my contract was over, I left, and every day I missed it.  I missed the people I worked with, I missed the positive environment, I missed being a part of something bigger, I missed feeling like I was making a difference in this world.  I also knew that my body was exhausted.  I couldn’t continue to work 12 hour days.  I couldn’t continue to pour my heart out into these students in the way I knew they deserved.  In the camp world, we call this being burnt out.  I was burnt out.  I didn’t want to get a job working retail, or working in a coffee shop; I didn’t want to leave the mountains, and so, after much sweet-talking, my friend convinced me to come back to the Ranch, to work for her, in the Kitchen.  I lovingly call her Chef, and I look up to her and admire her in ways she’ll never know.  She offered me a position in the kitchen, which I had thought would be temporary, and now I feel like I’ll be here for a while.  I get to learn new things every day.  I get to make things with my own two hands.  I am challenged by the people I work with to continue to grow and learn, to try new things, to constantly become better.  I’ve taken up baking, mostly because Chef hates baking, and I’ve found I’m really good at it.  We make garlic bread from scratch, baguettes, vegan sandwich bread, multi-grain bread, breakfast breads and muffins, cookies of all kinds, cakes and cupcakes for birthdays.  My decorating skills are a little lacking (mom, next time I’m home, you’ll have to teach me your cake decorating tips), but the process itself fuels my need to rise to the next challenge, and my desire to create something new, something delicious, out of the raw materials. 

We have a lot of fun in the kitchen.  There is hardly a day that goes by that we don’t end up laughing at ourselves, and sharing looks of wonder at what we’ve just made.  I feel more alive and more myself than I have in months.  When my dad died suddenly a few months ago, they were right there by my side.  We’ve cried together and laughed together, drank way too much together (water of course, we live at high-altitude).   My roommates, my friends, I owe so much to these people.  I love the ranch, and I thought when I moved back out here to work in the kitchen, that the ranch would sustain me and the kitchen would be just ok (sorry, Chef, but it’s true).  I was wrong, and I’ve never been happier about being wrong.  The little kitchen in which I work and play has become such a happy place for me. 

When I look back over my life, at the moment that brought me to the point I’m at today, I sometimes have to pause because never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined myself where I am right now.  I never had large career goals.  I want to work outside and I want to work with children.  Someday, I would like to go back to working with students full time.  As for right now, though, I’m really happy where I’m at.  I get paid to live and work in the Rocky Mountains.  I get to live an hour and a half away from family and friends in Denver, who lovingly offer their couches when I need a break from the isolation of the mountains.  I have amazing mentors, who are patient, kind, and more supportive than I ever could have asked for.  I have friends who cry with me and laugh with me, and make me feel comfortable and confident in my own skin.  The walk up to my house from my driveway sometimes takes a good 5 minutes of struggle through snow up to my knees.  Waking up before the sun comes up sucks.  The nearest grocery store is 30 min away.  Sometimes the food doesn’t turn out like I want it to.  And I love it.  I love the snow, I love early morning shifts and leaving work at 3:00pm, I love having everything I need up on my mountain.  And when things crash and burn in the kitchen (very literally), we problem solve.  It’s exhilarating. 

I definitely miss my camp family and the wonderful world of camp I left behind in order to come out to the mountains.  Someday, I will return to student programming, to group initiatives and ropes courses, to scheduling and facilitating crazy awesome programs.  I’ll make it back to one-on-ones with students over campfires, out of comfort zones.  I may be a bit rusty when I get back into it, but I’ll problem solve when I get there and make the most out of it.  For now, though, for now this is where I want to be, this is what I want to be doing. 

Soon I’ll be off to breakfast in Denver, and then I need to stop by the library and pick up some books.  I’m reading a brief introduction to Indian Philosophy, some essays by Toni Morrison, and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in French (trying to re-learn French for my trip to Europe this summer).  Tonight I’m meeting up with new friends I’ve made at the climbing gym, and tomorrow I’m back to work. 

And now you have it.  This is my life.  And my thoughts about it.  Thank you for reading, for staying connected.  I’d love to stay in touch with your lives as well, so shoot me a text, or write me a letter (I love snail mail).  15747 CO-7, Lyons CO.  Thank you for being a part of my journey, and for helping me make sense of this strange and wonderful world.  Sending you all my love, until I get to see you and tell you in person.