Confessions of a future science teacher

The habit of impostor syndrome runs deep, but I actually know stuff now. I am grateful to the mentors I've had in my time in grad school, especially for helping me to realize that one can study scientific perspectives to serve as one of but many ways of being a thinker. Teaching a high school class about agriculture, here in rural Zambia sounds pretty thrilling  to me. Especially if i have the freedom to make it an agroecology/food studies type class. I only hope to give students a curriculum that is respectful of the realities they face growing up in agricultural communities in the global south in this day and age, while also being honest about the full range of options they have in their roles as farmer-citizens.

Advertisements

A compost fever dream

I started playing with words while studying vocab today and accidentally wrote my first poem in Tonga. It's probably chock full of grammatical errors but I'll just claim poetic license. Unfortunately I can't figure out how to insert audio I recorded, but here's Tonga text, followed by rough English translation:   Cilotoyota Ndalikulota kuti ndalikuyota … Continue reading A compost fever dream

New friends, new fruits

Just think: there are people out there in this world who you would love with your whole heart, and you both dont even know it. And somewhere on this Earth there is a tree growing bearing fruits you've never even imagined, whose flavors you wouldn't have dreamed. Remember this mere existence, for there lies magic. And if you should ever get to meet such people, or taste such fruits, I can tell you: there's nothing luckier. 

On fire, fuel, and food

Let's talk about fire. I am one month into the charcoal cooking life with my handy little brazier. The brazier is a round metal contraption that has a solid layer on the bottom to collect ashes that fall, and then a second level that has some small holes in it, with a cylinder wall around … Continue reading On fire, fuel, and food

When you’ve planted lemon trees

On weekend mornings I used to walk over to the coffee shop, leaving slushy bootprints on salty sidewalks. I'd grab a mug and settle in with my book or computer while the town was still sleepy outside. The whirr of grinding beans and hisses of steam from the espresso machine made an underlying accompaniment for … Continue reading When you’ve planted lemon trees

Content warning: lack of babboon photos enclosed

This should be a story about wading through sky, a moss-slick bridge, a blinding invisible cloud raining up fromthe earthallaround drencheddrippingfloodpouring through you water on wateron water on and on washing on and gushing on and on soaking spongy shirts on sopping skin, eyes stung by an apocalyptic sunshower surrounding all sides, water, rushing to … Continue reading Content warning: lack of babboon photos enclosed