"you're a kansan? so you're from canada?"

East coasters do not believe in the midwest. Neither do west coasters, but they're less pretentious about it. YEAH I said it. For those who live on the perimeter of our fair country, the central states are just vast stretches of nothingness to fly over while watching Mean Girls until you arrive at your real destination.

But an entity is nothing without its heart, and Kansas, my friends, is heartland to the max. I am a born and bred Kansan, even if my middle schoolers do not know what that means and think I'm from Canada, and I really despise when people endlessly hate on the state and swear they're gonna leave and never come back.

Note: People who say that are always, I mean always, the ones who come back. But that's another blog post.

True devotion to the state

As much as I love Kansas, though, I have always known there is much more to see in this world besides Sonic and sunflowers. What? I talk about Sonic too much? Have you HAD one of their cherry limeades? No? Suck it. So when the opportunity arises, I like to peace out and experience life outside the middle. Boston seemed like a cool place to check out.

And cool it is. Boston definitely has the upper hand in some respects, but lest you count out dear ole Topeka, I will present a balanced list, a tale of two cities, if you will.

Top City has: friendlier people. Yeah, it’s true. We’re just nicer people. In my six weeks here, I have experienced the worst customer service I’ve ever had. No charm to be found here. Charmless.

But Boston has: meaning. It feels like every place I go to in Boston has been around since the 1600s. The people we read about in history class are people whose graves I walk by.

Sam Adams in the flesh (bones)

Everything here is “America’s First!” America’s First Public School! America’s First Pub! America’s First Extreme Massacre of a Marginalized Group! There is really no building in Topeka that has any historical meaning, barring the Brown v. Board school and maybe T-High for the Trojans among us. Boston is just so old, in the coolest way.

More really old dead people

Just strolling past the balcony where they first read the Declaration of Independence

Boston has: things to do. The city is smaller than I anticipated, but it’s still much more legit than Topeka and St. Louis… combined. Last weekend I sat down and wrote out a list of things I wanted to do while I’m here, including a Salem witch tour, a Boston Tea Party reenactment, and a Red Sox game. There is always something new to do or see, and man, the food is on point. If I could afford it, I would eat at a new restaurant every night. Shout out to Maddie for taking me to The Rattlesnake, where I had the most delish nachos.

But Topeka has: normal weather. Here I either wake up sweating or shivering, and whatever weather you think it’s going to be for the day, you’re wrong. Sometimes it’s 50 degrees when we leave the house and a solid 85 when we come back. That’s not okay. Also I feel like it rains a lot here. A feeling that’s amplified by 15 minute walks to work during which many a bus honks at me, as if to warn me of impending doom, flies past me, and soaks me head to toe. Needless to say, the pass and splash has gotten old.

Topeka has: my car. Oh sweet sweet Linda, how I miss being able to hop in you to take a jaunt to Target, or Panera, or Sonic. Yes, again with the Sonic. 2-4 happy hour. Do it. When I want to go to the grocery store, I have to walk to the station (granted, it’s across the street… but still), wait for the T, sit on the T, walk to the store, and basically live life on someone else’s schedule. I haven’t even been to Target since the first day because the planning process exhausts me. Tragic. Baby violins.*

*Baby Violins: during times of complete silence at school, the 6^th graders are encouraged to express their disappointment through a quick mimed performance on their baby violins.

But Boston has: legit public transportation. I don’t believe I’ve ever taken a bus or a cab in Topeka. I’m fairly certain I’d rather walk than take that risk. As much as I miss having a car, the T can actually take me anywhere I need to go, pretty quickly, and I don’t have to parallel park (a sight no one should witness), get completely lost in a skeezy neighborhood, or buy gas. So maybe this one’s a draw.

Boston has: Progressive people. During training, one of the teachers gave us a quick bio and mentioned that she and her wife had just returned from a trip. Her wife!! It’s like people here actually believe in basic civil rights. MADNESS. I’m already gearing up for the massive pride parade later this year. The east coast liberal elite is my kinda crowd.

But Topeka has: No. We have the Phelps.

Kansas will always have an advantage in the two most essential categories: loved ones and college basketball. But for now, Boston is right where I should be.

Home sweet home

the new yorker

You may be familiar with a frequent character in my blog, Jeanenne, one of my freshman year roomies and a fellow Australian abroadee. She is also one of the first New Yorkers I met, & I had the distinct pleasure of staying with her fam on Long Island the summer after freshman year.

Ah, youth.

Well, this year, as Labor Day rolled around, J-Rod mentioned that she was going to the US Open and said she might have an extra ticket. After I checked my booming social calendar, I realized I had several major commitments, so I politely declined. Then Beyonce got all preggo and had to cancel our weekend in the Bahamas, and I was like, fine, Jeanenne, stop begging me, I'll come.

Because we are "adults" now, we did "adult" things. Exhibit A: wine, cheese, and salami galore at Eataly.

No chairs here. Everyone stands. So chic.

We ventured to Magnolia Bakery and had a peanut butter cupcake and a chocolate cupcake. Cupcakes are so underrated.

Cupcake line-up.

When we weren't eating, we were sleeping. Rephrase: I was sleeping. When you wake up in the 5s and go to bed in the 10s, it's really hard to stay up past midnight! Did you hear me, mother?! I understand you now! The moments I did manage to stay awake, however, were pretty badass.

The US Open is quite an event. I have never watched tennis, ever. Last year I took a beginning tennis class because it was second semester senior year and I wasn't trying to do anything useful. While taking the class, I learned that 1) tennis is exhausting, 2) hitting the ball with both force and accuracy is difficult, and 3) St. Louis has very few comfortable-weather days between February and May. Just kidding - I learned that last nugget of wisdom February of my freshman year when I left my dorm wearing shorts and flip flops and came home in the snow.

But I keep up with the news, and the Kardashians, and I knew this event was major. High brow, fancy pants stuff. I mean, Mercedes Benz was a sponsor. People who drove their Mercedes got free parking. Vince would have squealed with joy. Anything to save money.

We saw a bunch of matches. Women's singles, women's doubles (I love you Sania Mirza), mixed doubles, men's singles, and men's doubles. But my fave match, featuring my future husband (one of many, to be sure) was Tecau and Lindstedt playing some angry Italians.

Our Romanian children will be superathletes.

What I expected to be the grand finale of our night was only the penultimate (vocab word) experience. We cheered for John Isner, the tallest man on earth. Johnny won. It was awesome. It was here that I fully realized that what makes tennis so bizarre is that the fans do their raucous cheering for about five seconds, and then you have to abruptly stop as the next serve begins. Talk about pressure, playing in complete silence. I felt like a true WASP, watching tennis over Labor Day weekend, clapping in silence. I knew I had it in me.

Isner was fun, but we then saw the most intense back-and-forth match in history (in my history of watching tennis) between Sam Stosur and some Russian chick. No, not Maria Sharapova, don't you know anything about tennis?

We love SS because she's from Brisbane, Australia, and if you want to know why I love Brisbane, you should read the rest of this blog because it is essentially a love letter to Oz. Stosur pulled through, we heard the accent, we cried because we miss Australia, etc. Fast forward a week and Stosur beats Serena Williams in the finals and wins her first US Open!!

Even though I am a true Bostonian now (does it scream "I'm definitely not from Boston!!" to buy that ubiquitous B hat? yes? too bad, I'm doing it anyway), I had a lovely time in New York with J-Rod. My next goal is for her to invite me to an A-list movie premiere in NYC. Start planning, Jeanenne.

beantown basics

Let me first take a moment to marvel at modern technology. As I write this, I am sitting on a bus somewhere between Boston and New York. I'm on the Internet! On a bus! Between the interwebz, the outlets, and the peacefully slumbering man next to me -- not to mention the $30 round trip tix I scored -- I am feeling swell about this journey. In a few hours I will be sipping pina coladas and reminiscing about WashU with Jeanenne, wondering how we went from sleeping til 2 pm (okay that was mostly me) to waking up at 5:30 am every day (I just... can't believe this is my life). But before we slip into the past, here is the present:

The Home. I live in a big yellow house in Jamaica Plain, a cozy neighborhood in southwest Boston. Still unsure of the vibe of JP (official initials), as it has its WASPy elements as well as its urban swag. As of yesterday, there are 8 of us living in our Real World: JP pad. We are living in what I would call a dual-family home - at least that's what they call it on House Hunters - and we have the top 2 floors. There are 5 bedrooms and a bathroom on the third floor, and on the second floor we have another bathroom, a kitchen, dining area, living room, and a back porch. I would say that my favorite part of the house is that it has character, but we all know that when people say that, they mean there's a mouse problem and a non-functioning dryer.

OH WAIT. SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT.

I mean, there was a mouse. Or maybe two. I'm not on mouse duty. I'm on "stand in the corner and squeal til someone else fixes the situation" duty. And to be fair, the dryer was fixed today. But the fact that we don't have air conditioning is real tough. I am literally sweating from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed. And they said Boston was cold...

The Homies. There are 50 Corps members in my program, most of whom are fresh out of undergrad. The Cou gang (I wanted to be alliterative and say clan, but for obvious reasons, I’m going to refrain), which is my house, well, we spend literally every minute of every day together. We walk to work together; see each other throughout the work day; walk home together; sit on the couch together, talking about how tired we are; watch Cupcake Wars and Jersey Shore together; and crawl back into bed together… I mean, no. I love my housemates and when I upload pix onto my computer, I will be sharing some images of the best-looking people in Massachusetts.

The Job. Unlike the last adventure I was on, down in Australia, they actually expect me to be a productive member of society here. Our middle school is a no-excuses charter school, which means that we do things just a tad differently than the ol 501 school district (what up T-town). Some examples: silent transitions from class to class, with everybody walking clockwise to efficiently get around; school days that go from 7 am to 4 pm; and two hours of intensive 1 on 2 tutoring Mon-Thurs. That's where we come in. As tutors, we are responsible for 5-6 kids. I have two 8th graders, two 7th graders, and two 6th graders. Every day we meet with each grade for both math and English tutorials. The tutorials are pretty structured, but the goal is to infuse energy and creativity into them so that algebra feels like an opportunity, not a chore. On top of tutorials, we also have secondary duties and school responsibilities. So I eat lunch with a 6^th grade homeroom (today was Fish Friday, and before you gag, know that these meals are on point for school lunch and I take an extra one every day for myself), deal with the group of kids who get picked up in cars (versus taking the T or the school bus), and do a lot of random tasks with the operations team. Last week the team and I built cubbies until my fingers fell off.

The Kiddos. After two looooong weeks of training, I was anxious to actually meet my tutees. I don’t want to be the creepy adult divulging personal info about children on the internet, so maybe I’ll just go initials when referring to my babies. Yes, my babies. I love them already. MJ and MG are 8^th grade boys who are good kids but feel like they’re too cool for school. It’s my job to show them that they aren’t. MN and BP are 7^th grade girls who are such 7^th grade girls. They’re the ones who called me out on my flesh-eating rash* and I can tell we are going to have some really lovely bonding moments and some really rough patches. My 6^th graders, NS (girl) and JP (boy, not to be confused with Jamaica Plain), are clearly new to the structure of our school and have a lot of catching up to do academically. After only three days of tutorials, I am already fiercely protective of my cubs and may have secretly chosen professions and long-term aspirations for all of them.

Mr. Sleeping Asian is so peaceful that he has convinced me it is time for me to nap as well, and although I’m sure you’re hanging onto my every word this lovely Friday night, I will save the rest of my insights for the next post. Expect an in-depth comparison on Boston vs. Topeka (spoiler: they have nothing in common).

*Allergic reaction + the first day of school = freakish monster face.