Lackluster Not Blockbuster

It was fun to go to the movies yesterday, but times have really changed. Our movie, Project Hail Mary, was playing in a medium-sized auditorium in a multiplex a little farther from home than we usually venture for the movies. The first thing I noticed was the frosted glass over the box office windows: all six stations were permanently closed, and it was hard not to imagine the throngs of people in lines that might have snaked all the way back to the fire lane on such a holiday weekend a decade or so ago. 

Instead, we were greeted by a teenager with an iPad who scanned the ticket QR code on my phone. The line for the massive concession stand was short, and there, too, we saw evidence of downsizing. Bare stainless steel counters flanked either side of the line; gone were the self-service, Ferrari soda stations, replaced by mini-fridges with Gatorade and Smart Water, along with a basic Pepsi fountain behind the service counter. There was popcorn, but not much else, and the cavernous lobby seemed empty and nearly deserted. 

The same was so as we made our way down wide, empty hallways leading to a dozen theaters; before we got to our show, we may have seen five other patrons. The auditorium itself was about a third full, which was not all that surprising, since the movie had been out for a while. As we settled into our seats, the sound seemed muted, and I briefly toyed with the idea of taking the long walk back to the front to see if there was a problem. 

In the end, we just listened more carefully than seemed right in a theater, probably missing something here and there, but I guess that downsizing of expectations was prudent.

Nice Schmice

"Sure, lady, just take your time," Heidi snarled with irritation as we slowed to a roll in the parking lot. "She's lucky you're driving," she continued, "Because I would run her and her brats down."

"That's not very nice," I chided mildly.

"I'm not nice," Heidi replied. "You knew that when you married me!"

"Nice can be a choice rather than a character trait," I noted as we parked the car. "Choose nice!"

A little while later, Heidi's phone chimed, and she laughed as she read the text. "I got a meme that says Nice is my go-to, but fuck off is my wingman," she told me. "Does that sound like me?"

"Maybe the reverse?" I suggested. "Fuck off is your go-to, but nice is your wingman?"

"That's about right," she agreed.

On the First Day of Summer

I read today that this will be the longest summer we could possibly have: Memorial Day is at its earliest date and Labor Day at its latest. Impressive!

And yet, despite days in the 90s earlier this week, today dawned gray and rainy, struggling to get out of the 50s. I was tempted to start a fire and hunker down, more like in March than May. Still, I rallied in the early afternoon and took advantage of a break in the downpour to walk the dog for a couple of sodden miles. It was pretty pleasant, actually. We had the streets to ourselves, except for a soggy rabbit and a great blue heron. Oh, and all the lifeguards working their first day of the summer season-- we passed at least four young men huddling in pool houses, staring idly at their phones. 

A couple of months ago, I toyed with the idea of forcing challenging myself to go to the pool and swim every day it's open this year. Today I sure was glad I didn't do that.

Happy summer, though! Warmer days are no doubt ahead.

Damage Done

I was feeling more than a little bleary and crosseyed when I left school yesterday afternoon after eight and a half hours of non-stop testing coordination, so perhaps I could be forgiven for what happened next. I cut the wheel too soon as I was exiting the dimly lit parking space in the dark, subterranean garage, and the result was a sickening scrape and a crunch, leaving an egregious dent in the car's front driver-side panel and bumper. 

It has to be replaced, of course, and I have an appointment at the body shop on Tuesday. But even if my transgression is understandable? I still feel like a total dumbass. And the deductible on my insurance comes out to just about what I earned that day.

Outer Limits

I totally get why we give students all the time they need on many high-stakes tests. It only seems fair and right to let people have the time they need to demonstrate proficiency, if not excellence, especially in a learning environment. 

But in my decades of teaching, I have also witnessed the abuse of such flexibility, especially kids using their unlimited time to miss classes or other non-preferred activities. Recently I have also seen how having all the time you need can actually feed the anxiety we are trying to allay. "What if this is the one question that means I'm either above or below grade level?" a student asked me when I checked win with him after literally hours of testing.

And today? We had six kids who had to stay an hour after the final bell had rung to complete their state assessment. Mind you, they had started at 8 am, worked through lunch (they ate as they tested), and did not tap submit on their 55 questions until 7+ hours later. At one point, a student waved me over. He was in tears, fretting about finishing the test, which, although untimed, must be completed in a single school day unless you have specific accommodations that allow otherwise.

"I know I get one and a half times on tests," he said, and although he was right? One and a half times of unlimited is still unlimited (but completed in a day). 

And yet, once he came to terms with an actual wall, he locked in and worked a little faster. He also passed advanced.

Years ago, a colleague told me about a study in which they placed one group of toddlers in the middle of a huge field and another group in the same field, but with a fence they could see. Those in the open stayed close to their starting spot, and did not explore, but those with the enclosure went right up to the edge. Presumably, the enormous expanse was overwhelming and threatening, but the boundary was reassuring.

I don't know if it's a real study or not, but it is certainly a parable that I have never forgotten.

The Same Page

"You should print that portrait," my testing colleague suggested.

"Why?" I asked. 

"It will take up fewer pages and look better," she shrugged.

"But it won't fit," I said, tilting my head at the spreadsheet on the screen.

"It will," she insisted.

"If I hide these columns," I agreed.

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, "do that."

"Now it really does look better in portrait!" I told her.

"Y'all are crazy about the details," said another teacher who was in the office listening to our conversation. 

We laughed in acknowledgment.

"But since it's working?" she added. "Keep doing that!"

Packing Wisely

"How's it going, packing up your room?" I asked my sister-in-law this morning. After 15+ years of teaching art, she is retiring at the end of the year.

"Pretty good," she said. "I've thrown away a lot of stuff. I bought 5 Banker boxes, and I've already filled one and taken it home."

"That's good," I agreed, "but 5 boxes isn't very much."

"I don't want very much," she laughed.