Beside the simple pleasure of spending time with family at the holidays, the best thing I can say about being away from home for 11 days in December is that, when we finally got home, the cats seemed softer and the Christmas Tree smelled pinier, and it sure was nice to be here on this, the last night of the year.
Monday, December 31, 2018
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Wouldn't You Like to Fly?
We sat on the plane for 90 minutes in Atlanta before finally taking off for Buffalo. The first delay was a computer unit that needed replacing. It should only be 10 minutes, the captain told us, and his estimate was accurate. As we pushed back from the gate, the flight attendants prepared for departure, cross-checking and demonstrating the safety equipment.
We had barely made it to the end of the terminal when the captain’s voice interrupted those proceedings. Folks, I’m afraid we’ll have to return to the gate, he reported. We have a warning light that needs to be checked out. Once back at B31, the crew was required by FAA regulation to open the cabin doors, but they promised our gate time would be brief.
Sure enough, the doors were secured 10 minutes later, but opened again 5 minutes after that, because our original flight plan had us cruising at 29,000 feet and the air was too rough up there now. Lower altitude means more fuel, and so we sat waiting for them to onboard an additional 1500 pounds.
We were offered short pours of water from plastic liter bottles to slake our impatience, but it didn’t seem to appease the four-year-old behind us. He was a verbal processor who gave high and loud, minute-by-minute reports of his observations, both internal and external, including: the poop is out of my guts, we’re not moving, this trip is taking a long time, it’s still raining, my scarf is itchy, it’s still raining, now we’re going on the highway, that airplane is really big, it’s still raining, are we already there? In between he wailed like a siren and sang songs of gobbledygook and gibberish in a piercing soprano. His continuous sound track was punctuated frequently by the guttural whoops of a non-verbal young man a couple of rows ahead of us.
Slipping in my earbuds, I was amazed at how little noise they filtered, but I cranked a podcast anyway and closed my eyes. A little while later I was roused from a very light doze by the jolt of the plane leaving the jetway for what we dearly hoped was the last time. Shortly after that we slipped the bonds of gravity and flew up, up, up, through the drizzle and fog and burst through the clouds into a golden late December afternoon.
We had barely made it to the end of the terminal when the captain’s voice interrupted those proceedings. Folks, I’m afraid we’ll have to return to the gate, he reported. We have a warning light that needs to be checked out. Once back at B31, the crew was required by FAA regulation to open the cabin doors, but they promised our gate time would be brief.
Sure enough, the doors were secured 10 minutes later, but opened again 5 minutes after that, because our original flight plan had us cruising at 29,000 feet and the air was too rough up there now. Lower altitude means more fuel, and so we sat waiting for them to onboard an additional 1500 pounds.
We were offered short pours of water from plastic liter bottles to slake our impatience, but it didn’t seem to appease the four-year-old behind us. He was a verbal processor who gave high and loud, minute-by-minute reports of his observations, both internal and external, including: the poop is out of my guts, we’re not moving, this trip is taking a long time, it’s still raining, my scarf is itchy, it’s still raining, now we’re going on the highway, that airplane is really big, it’s still raining, are we already there? In between he wailed like a siren and sang songs of gobbledygook and gibberish in a piercing soprano. His continuous sound track was punctuated frequently by the guttural whoops of a non-verbal young man a couple of rows ahead of us.
Slipping in my earbuds, I was amazed at how little noise they filtered, but I cranked a podcast anyway and closed my eyes. A little while later I was roused from a very light doze by the jolt of the plane leaving the jetway for what we dearly hoped was the last time. Shortly after that we slipped the bonds of gravity and flew up, up, up, through the drizzle and fog and burst through the clouds into a golden late December afternoon.
Saturday, December 29, 2018
Dress Code
Following Richard's Bar Mitzvah, we returned to our awesome loft above the hip Ponce City Market, a repurposed Sears distribution center built in 1926. Before heading up to the fourth floor, we threaded our way through the throngs of casually dressed folks enjoying dining, drinking, and shopping in the Food Hall to grab a coffee from Chef Hugh Acheson's Spiller Park.
I was sipping my handcrafted coffee soda (El Salvadoran coffee, burnt orange syrup, carbonated and kegged with a dash of cream) and my mom was waiting for her iced decaf Americano, when a well-dressed woman approached us. "I was at a funeral?" she said looking at my mother's tasteful black dress. "What's your excuse?"
"Bar Mitzvah," I answered.
"I feel better knowing," she laughed and joined the line to order her own exquisite coffee drink.
I was sipping my handcrafted coffee soda (El Salvadoran coffee, burnt orange syrup, carbonated and kegged with a dash of cream) and my mom was waiting for her iced decaf Americano, when a well-dressed woman approached us. "I was at a funeral?" she said looking at my mother's tasteful black dress. "What's your excuse?"
"Bar Mitzvah," I answered.
"I feel better knowing," she laughed and joined the line to order her own exquisite coffee drink.
Friday, December 28, 2018
10 Things You Need your Left Hand For
Holding your phone while you text
Zipping your coat
Putting on your pajamas
Holding the toothbrush to put the toothpaste on it
Shampooing your hair
Blow drying your hair
Tying your shoes
Holding anything you want to open with your right hand
Unbuttoning your pants to go to the bathroom
Pulling your pants back up when you're done
Zipping your coat
Putting on your pajamas
Holding the toothbrush to put the toothpaste on it
Shampooing your hair
Blow drying your hair
Tying your shoes
Holding anything you want to open with your right hand
Unbuttoning your pants to go to the bathroom
Pulling your pants back up when you're done
Thursday, December 27, 2018
Safe and Sorry
“No she isn’t!” Annabelle scoffed when her mother told her I was in the emergency room because I had fallen off a scooter. Just the day before, she and I had sailed through Piedmont Park, exploring every trail as we talked and talked and talked.
To be honest, even as I sat watching HGTV, surrounded by people in their pajamas with barf bags and surgical masks, I couldn’t believe it either. Renting the scooter had been an impulse: it seemed to be waiting for me as we passed it on our way home from lunch. But even as I scooted merrily around the parking lot, zipping circles around my mom, Heidi, Bill, and Emily, I was feeling guilty about being somewhat antisocial. To compensate, I whizzed quickly ahead of them, and turned into a little utility lot at the high school to loop back around. Slowing down to make my u-turn, I hit the brake a bit too enthusiastically, and the scooter bucked, tossing me to the side. I sprawled to the asphalt, banging my ribs and shoulder on the shaft, landing on my hands. Jumping to my feet, I did an automatic check-- any witnesses? and self-check: knees? not even skinned. palms and elbows? scrape-free! --and jumped back on the scooter, confident that I was fine and no one had seen my tumble.
But the moment I rejoined my party, my secret was out. “I fell down!” I reported breathlessly. There was a bit of joking at my expense, which was certainly well deserved, and also some talk of past mishaps and the risks of riding these crazy-dangerous vehicles. With a laugh, I piloted my scooter away from the group and up the hill, parking it at the foot of the driveway. And it was as I waited that the adrenaline began to wear off, and the pain in my left hand? left wrist? announced itself more insistently.
Half an hour later, I confessed that a trip to the ER was definitely in my future. My instinct is always to wait and see, but it really, really hurt, and I ain’t no spring chicken. So, I paid the deductible and waited for the X-ray, the consult, and finally the treatment (an ace bandage and the advice to take 800 mg of an over the counter pain reliever.) Each step of the way, the health care professional helping me shared a tale of scooter mayhem, but always ended our interaction with, “I hope you feel better!”
As canned as their words were, I believed them every time, and I felt well cared for. At last it was time to go home. “Don’t let this stop you,” the PA told me as I signed the discharge papers. “Keep living your life!”
“I will!” I promised.
She smiled. “I hope you feel better!”
To be honest, even as I sat watching HGTV, surrounded by people in their pajamas with barf bags and surgical masks, I couldn’t believe it either. Renting the scooter had been an impulse: it seemed to be waiting for me as we passed it on our way home from lunch. But even as I scooted merrily around the parking lot, zipping circles around my mom, Heidi, Bill, and Emily, I was feeling guilty about being somewhat antisocial. To compensate, I whizzed quickly ahead of them, and turned into a little utility lot at the high school to loop back around. Slowing down to make my u-turn, I hit the brake a bit too enthusiastically, and the scooter bucked, tossing me to the side. I sprawled to the asphalt, banging my ribs and shoulder on the shaft, landing on my hands. Jumping to my feet, I did an automatic check-- any witnesses? and self-check: knees? not even skinned. palms and elbows? scrape-free! --and jumped back on the scooter, confident that I was fine and no one had seen my tumble.
But the moment I rejoined my party, my secret was out. “I fell down!” I reported breathlessly. There was a bit of joking at my expense, which was certainly well deserved, and also some talk of past mishaps and the risks of riding these crazy-dangerous vehicles. With a laugh, I piloted my scooter away from the group and up the hill, parking it at the foot of the driveway. And it was as I waited that the adrenaline began to wear off, and the pain in my left hand? left wrist? announced itself more insistently.
Half an hour later, I confessed that a trip to the ER was definitely in my future. My instinct is always to wait and see, but it really, really hurt, and I ain’t no spring chicken. So, I paid the deductible and waited for the X-ray, the consult, and finally the treatment (an ace bandage and the advice to take 800 mg of an over the counter pain reliever.) Each step of the way, the health care professional helping me shared a tale of scooter mayhem, but always ended our interaction with, “I hope you feel better!”
As canned as their words were, I believed them every time, and I felt well cared for. At last it was time to go home. “Don’t let this stop you,” the PA told me as I signed the discharge papers. “Keep living your life!”
“I will!” I promised.
She smiled. “I hope you feel better!”
Wednesday, December 26, 2018
You Can Count on Me
"Do you know where you're going?" Heidi's dad asked me from the passenger seat as I backed out of the driveway, bound for our 7PM Christmas Eve dinner reservation. Our party of six was too large for one car, so Heidi, Gary, and I were in our station wagon.
"I think so," I said confidently. "It's the first exit after you get on the Thruway, right?"
On the way we chatted about what we were going to order for dinner, how we were going to get to the airport in the morning, and football team standings going into the last week of the regular season. The conversation was moving to spring and summer travel plans as I rolled through the EZ-Pass lane and headed east.
"That's your exit!" Gary told me, but it was too late. It had come up way before I expected it, and I didn't get over in time.
"I guess I'll have to get off at the next one and turn around," I sighed. But then it occurred to me that it was the Thruway... "Is it a long way?"
"Yep," he said.
The car fell silent. Heidi pulled out her phone and punched in the address. It was 15 miles to the next exit. "You better call your mother," Gary said to Heidi, "and put on some Edyie Gorme!"
Sleigh Ride, Sleigh Ride! Recorded laughter and jingle bells blared through the speakers. I hit the gas, and our station wagon rocketed down the highway and into the night.
"I think so," I said confidently. "It's the first exit after you get on the Thruway, right?"
On the way we chatted about what we were going to order for dinner, how we were going to get to the airport in the morning, and football team standings going into the last week of the regular season. The conversation was moving to spring and summer travel plans as I rolled through the EZ-Pass lane and headed east.
"That's your exit!" Gary told me, but it was too late. It had come up way before I expected it, and I didn't get over in time.
"I guess I'll have to get off at the next one and turn around," I sighed. But then it occurred to me that it was the Thruway... "Is it a long way?"
"Yep," he said.
The car fell silent. Heidi pulled out her phone and punched in the address. It was 15 miles to the next exit. "You better call your mother," Gary said to Heidi, "and put on some Edyie Gorme!"
Sleigh Ride, Sleigh Ride! Recorded laughter and jingle bells blared through the speakers. I hit the gas, and our station wagon rocketed down the highway and into the night.
Tuesday, December 25, 2018
Stille Nacht
The night was silent and still when I took Lucy out to potty before the Uber picked us up for our 4:30 am ride to the airport. After just a few hours of sleep, the scene on the suburban street seemed more dreamlike than real to me. Tiny snowflakes fell noiselessly and my eye was drawn to the glow of Christmas lights shining through a few windows down the street. I breathed deeply of the cold night air, willing myself to wake, and just then, a trio of shadows detached from the neighbor's hedges and glided across the grass. Three full-grown whitetail deer paused under the street light and turned their eyes our way, alert to the oblivious dog by my side, but seemingly oblivious to the ornamental versions of themselves a few feet away. The deer blew soft, frozen clouds into the winter night, and then, glittering stars above, iron earth below, turned and bounded down the street and into the silent darkness.
Monday, December 24, 2018
Christmas Eve Tales
I.
Fat snowflakes of the kind that you could imagine sticking to your nose and eyelashes drifted from the morning sky. In a blink the flurries thickened into a blinding swirl and the grass was covered, giving us the hope of a white Christmas even against the prevailing forecast. The beauty of the scene was transfixing, and then, before my coffee cup was empty and I could open the backdoor to let Lucy play in the snow, it was gone.
II.
I settled in the easy chair at the nail salon and tucked my toes under the drying light. A little girl of perhaps six sat to my left, wiggling her fingers. They were painted in alternating sparkles of red and green. "You're nails are beautiful!" I said.
She pulled her feet out and showed me that her toes matched.
I gave her a thumbs up. "Does your family celebrate Christmas?" I asked.
Her eyes widened and she nodded vigorously. "We celebrate ALL the holidays!" she told me, seriously. "We're a fun family!"
III.
Late in the day, tiny snow flakes, so small you could barely see them, began falling. It took hours for a crisp layer to dust the grass, and then the clouds literally parted, revealing the sun for the first time in days. Long rays and shadows painted the snow gold and purple as the day ended and the eve began.
Fat snowflakes of the kind that you could imagine sticking to your nose and eyelashes drifted from the morning sky. In a blink the flurries thickened into a blinding swirl and the grass was covered, giving us the hope of a white Christmas even against the prevailing forecast. The beauty of the scene was transfixing, and then, before my coffee cup was empty and I could open the backdoor to let Lucy play in the snow, it was gone.
II.
I settled in the easy chair at the nail salon and tucked my toes under the drying light. A little girl of perhaps six sat to my left, wiggling her fingers. They were painted in alternating sparkles of red and green. "You're nails are beautiful!" I said.
She pulled her feet out and showed me that her toes matched.
I gave her a thumbs up. "Does your family celebrate Christmas?" I asked.
Her eyes widened and she nodded vigorously. "We celebrate ALL the holidays!" she told me, seriously. "We're a fun family!"
III.
Late in the day, tiny snow flakes, so small you could barely see them, began falling. It took hours for a crisp layer to dust the grass, and then the clouds literally parted, revealing the sun for the first time in days. Long rays and shadows painted the snow gold and purple as the day ended and the eve began.
Sunday, December 23, 2018
That Road Before Us
No sleigh bells ring ting tingled, but the seat warmers were on high, so we were comfy cozy as we turned our station wagon toward Niagara Falls this morning. It had been another leaden dawn, but the falls were emerald against the gray sky, and a glittering layer of ice encased all the bushes and grass on the banks by the rapids. We leaned into the cold, following a path past the places we knew from summer visits and to the foot of the pedestrian entrance for the Rainbow Bridge. Had we had our passports it would have become an international adventure, but instead we promised ourselves we'd be back in warmer days when the chill breeze off the river would be welcome on our walk to Canada.
Saturday, December 22, 2018
That Holiday Feeling
The neon lights of the Aurora Theatre marquis glowed brightly against the late December gloom, and across the street the red and white striped awning of Vidlers 5&10 cheerfully capped the busy sidewalk. The windows of McDuffies Bakery and Beulah's General Store were decked in ribbon and evergreen, their holiday treasures visible within. Tiny pellets of snow rattled against the last of the dry leaves in the trees, and a frigid wind tingled my cheeks as I dashed down Main Street, shopping bags swinging along by my side, anxious for the warmth of my waiting car, but in no hurry to leave this jolly village behind.
Friday, December 21, 2018
Dark and Stormy Night
We finally turned the car toward Buffalo a little after 3 yesterday afternoon. A steady rain was falling, the sky was heavy and so was the traffic. It took us 90 minutes to go 30 miles, but I kept a white-knuckled grip on both the steering wheel and my holiday cheer.
The storm was tracking from the south, and steady rain and scattered fog was with us all the way. Fortunately it stayed a couple degrees above freezing, even in the Pennsylvania mountains, and traffic then was understandably very sparse. For miles at a time, our hi-beams were the only illumination on the dark, wet road.
Except for the Christmas lights! From Virginia to New York, up mountains, across valleys, in towns, on country roads, and off the side of the interstate, they shined through the storm on the second longest night of the year.
And we arrived safely a little after midnight.
The storm was tracking from the south, and steady rain and scattered fog was with us all the way. Fortunately it stayed a couple degrees above freezing, even in the Pennsylvania mountains, and traffic then was understandably very sparse. For miles at a time, our hi-beams were the only illumination on the dark, wet road.
Except for the Christmas lights! From Virginia to New York, up mountains, across valleys, in towns, on country roads, and off the side of the interstate, they shined through the storm on the second longest night of the year.
And we arrived safely a little after midnight.
Thursday, December 20, 2018
Not Quite There
Our plan was to leave by noon and run a couple of errands on the way. That way we would reach Buffalo in time for a late dinner.
Um...
Um...
Wednesday, December 19, 2018
Auld Lang Syne
With a small sigh, I turned the key in my top desk drawer, stepped out into my classroom, and gave it a critical look. 28 chairs were neatly pushed under 7 tables. The bookcase was a bit of a mess, but I preferred to think that was because kids were looking for something to read. The 20 cans my homeroom donated for the food drive were neatly stacked on the computer cart, with its full complement of laptops charging. My desk itself was clear of everything but the shiny sub plan folder we had been issued to organize all the necessary resources a substitute teacher might need. I knew that it held rosters, student pictures, seating charts, and detailed plans for the next two days, but still I paused. At last I crossed to the door, turned off the lights, and locked the room.
School year 2018 was out of my hands, and I was on vacation.
School year 2018 was out of my hands, and I was on vacation.
Tuesday, December 18, 2018
Corny Like a Fox
"My soul is just a shinin"! It's shining through!" said a student this morning when I asked him to get his reading book from the shelf.
"Great!" I answered. "How about shining over to get your book?"
"It's a shinin!" he replied without moving. "Shining bright!"
I could see that the conversation was going nowhere, so I tried a different approach. "I see that!" I told him. "Keep on shining! Brighten our day!"
"Now that's just corny," he scoffed, heading over to pick up his book.
"Sorry!" I shrugged, and hit play on the audiobook.
"Great!" I answered. "How about shining over to get your book?"
"It's a shinin!" he replied without moving. "Shining bright!"
I could see that the conversation was going nowhere, so I tried a different approach. "I see that!" I told him. "Keep on shining! Brighten our day!"
"Now that's just corny," he scoffed, heading over to pick up his book.
"Sorry!" I shrugged, and hit play on the audiobook.
Monday, December 17, 2018
You Can't Handle the Truth
I looked over a few minutes before lunch to see a student wailing despondently, head on the table. "Hey, now," I said, "what happened?"
Full disclosure? This student is known for extreme emotional outbursts, which certainly doesn't mean such behavior should be dismissed, but I did approach the situation with some prior experience.
She pointed to another student, also no stranger to classroom disruptions. I raised my eyebrows at him. He shrugged and shook his head. We waited for her to speak.
"I asked him why he hates me so much," she managed to choke out between sobs.
"And...?" I asked.
"...and," she gasped, "he told me!"
Full disclosure? This student is known for extreme emotional outbursts, which certainly doesn't mean such behavior should be dismissed, but I did approach the situation with some prior experience.
She pointed to another student, also no stranger to classroom disruptions. I raised my eyebrows at him. He shrugged and shook his head. We waited for her to speak.
"I asked him why he hates me so much," she managed to choke out between sobs.
"And...?" I asked.
"...and," she gasped, "he told me!"
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Status Report
The weekend has passed in a holiday blur, but I am pleased to report that the tree is fully decorated, and the cookies are baked, and the gifts that are here are wrapped, and those that are not here are on their way. There is also a fire burning, a little soft Christmas music playing, and I am wearing red and green, feeling pretty darn good.
Saturday, December 15, 2018
No Tech Friday
The wifi was down for most of the day at school yesterday, posing quite a dilemma for teachers who have been encouraged to integrate technology into every lesson. To be honest, it took me a minute, but I finally came up with an activity that would allow my students to apply what we have been learning to their self-selected reading. It also incorporated movement, collaboration, and competition.
Here's how I started: I'm going to give you a 3 x 5 card and a popsicle stick...
Here's how I started: I'm going to give you a 3 x 5 card and a popsicle stick...
Friday, December 14, 2018
No Experience Necessary
"Do you have any children?" a student asked yesterday as she worked on some missing assignments after school.
"No," I answered.
She looked shocked. "So you don't have any experience with kids?" she said.
"Not unless you count the 25 years of teaching," I told her dryly.
"Oh, yeah! I didn't think of that!" she replied, and continued working.
"No," I answered.
She looked shocked. "So you don't have any experience with kids?" she said.
"Not unless you count the 25 years of teaching," I told her dryly.
"Oh, yeah! I didn't think of that!" she replied, and continued working.
Thursday, December 13, 2018
Emotional
The movie we showed the students for the early release day yesterday was Coco. We had some curriculum connection activities for them to do as they watched, which my group did dutifully and well. When they were finished, they could make themselves comfortable and simply enjoy the show, and so the last 15 minutes of the film found a group of three 11-year-old boys lying on the floor in front of the interactive whiteboard, riveted to the climax and resolution of the story.
As the credits rolled, they sat up and began punching each other on the shoulders.
"Who's cutting onions in here?" one of them asked.
"Dude, are you crying?" his friend replied, wiping his own eyes.
"I'm not crying, you're crying!" said the third.
As the credits rolled, they sat up and began punching each other on the shoulders.
"Who's cutting onions in here?" one of them asked.
"Dude, are you crying?" his friend replied, wiping his own eyes.
"I'm not crying, you're crying!" said the third.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
E Pluribus Unum
Today was an early release for students so that teachers might spend the afternoon in professional learning sessions. This year, our system has changed the structure of our PD by centrally offering dozens of opportunities so that educators can select topics that meet our needs at the moment.
In the morning, we took our students to the music assembly, where the band, orchestra, and chorus performed abbreviated versions of their winter concerts. Later, Heidi and I attended a showing of the first episode of the documentary series America to Me, which follows several students of color for a year at Oak Park River Forest High School, one of the Chicago suburbs most progressive schools. The demographics of OPRF are notably similar to our own system, and so the experience of these kids was pretty close to home.
Following the film, the group split into small discussion groups. The first question was What is the difference between desegregation and integration? Our group agreed that desegregation is simply removing a separation between two factions, but integration should entail creating a new whole.
The follow-up question was Where is OPRF and where are we in that pursuit? and we all agreed there is still a lot of work to be done in both places before people of all races share collective ownership of our country and all its opportunities.
I know we have a long way to go, but this morning, at the concert, I sat with a lump in my throat marveling at the miracle of 100 kids from 6 continents raising their voices as one in incredibly moving renditions of A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman and One Day from MLK.
In the morning, we took our students to the music assembly, where the band, orchestra, and chorus performed abbreviated versions of their winter concerts. Later, Heidi and I attended a showing of the first episode of the documentary series America to Me, which follows several students of color for a year at Oak Park River Forest High School, one of the Chicago suburbs most progressive schools. The demographics of OPRF are notably similar to our own system, and so the experience of these kids was pretty close to home.
Following the film, the group split into small discussion groups. The first question was What is the difference between desegregation and integration? Our group agreed that desegregation is simply removing a separation between two factions, but integration should entail creating a new whole.
The follow-up question was Where is OPRF and where are we in that pursuit? and we all agreed there is still a lot of work to be done in both places before people of all races share collective ownership of our country and all its opportunities.
I know we have a long way to go, but this morning, at the concert, I sat with a lump in my throat marveling at the miracle of 100 kids from 6 continents raising their voices as one in incredibly moving renditions of A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman and One Day from MLK.
Tuesday, December 11, 2018
Guessing Game
Yet another iPad lost and found story:
Student: Hey Ms. S! I found my iPad!
Me: I'm so glad!
Student: You know where it was?
Me: Tell me!
Student: What's that thing? It's tall and white. [He put his palms about 4 inches apart and moved them up and down from his shoulders to his waist.] They have them in every house. Sometimes it's hot, sometimes it's cold?
Me: Uhhhh... the radiator?
Student: Yeah! That's it! It was under there. Thank goodness it didn't get too hot.
Do I know the sixth grade mind, or what?
Student: Hey Ms. S! I found my iPad!
Me: I'm so glad!
Student: You know where it was?
Me: Tell me!
Student: What's that thing? It's tall and white. [He put his palms about 4 inches apart and moved them up and down from his shoulders to his waist.] They have them in every house. Sometimes it's hot, sometimes it's cold?
Me: Uhhhh... the radiator?
Student: Yeah! That's it! It was under there. Thank goodness it didn't get too hot.
Do I know the sixth grade mind, or what?
Monday, December 10, 2018
Wisdom of the Dove
I did my best.
We all did, in the parent-student-teacher conference we held this afternoon. We started off positive: You're not in trouble. We just want you to be more successful. How can we help you? But the child shrugged us off. Mm Hmm. Sure. Whatever.
The parent in this case was a great aunt, someone who clearly cared for him, but was not his mom. She's been away somewhere that he asked the counselor not to share with the team. And he is not only oppositional, but also defiant and ever-so detached. He is really good at being hateful and unlikable, but that's how he controls the uncontrollable terrain of authority and relationships.
We tried, listing his strengths, asking about his goals, offering all manner of assistance, keeping even and even positive for 40 minutes, but his final words were "I won't promise anything."
When the last person left my room, I did something I rarely do: I reached for the chocolate. Someone had recently added a big bag of Doves to the common candy can we keep in my room since I am not usually tempted. I unwrapped a square of milk chocolate truffle and let it melt in my mouth as I flipped over the foil wrapper to see my fortune. Be the rainbow in someone else's storm cloud, it read.
I'll keep trying.
We all did, in the parent-student-teacher conference we held this afternoon. We started off positive: You're not in trouble. We just want you to be more successful. How can we help you? But the child shrugged us off. Mm Hmm. Sure. Whatever.
The parent in this case was a great aunt, someone who clearly cared for him, but was not his mom. She's been away somewhere that he asked the counselor not to share with the team. And he is not only oppositional, but also defiant and ever-so detached. He is really good at being hateful and unlikable, but that's how he controls the uncontrollable terrain of authority and relationships.
We tried, listing his strengths, asking about his goals, offering all manner of assistance, keeping even and even positive for 40 minutes, but his final words were "I won't promise anything."
When the last person left my room, I did something I rarely do: I reached for the chocolate. Someone had recently added a big bag of Doves to the common candy can we keep in my room since I am not usually tempted. I unwrapped a square of milk chocolate truffle and let it melt in my mouth as I flipped over the foil wrapper to see my fortune. Be the rainbow in someone else's storm cloud, it read.
I'll keep trying.
Sunday, December 9, 2018
Making the Season Bright
Tiny snowflakes fell in lazy swirls while giant logs and pine boughs crackled in the fire pit at our first stop on the Christmas errands run today. Shopping for garland and wreaths our noses filled with the sharp smells of fresh pine and smoke, and we couldn't have asked for a more perfect holiday experience, until we went inside the warm little hut to pay for our holiday trimming and found fresh popped corn, butter cookies, and cocoa.
Saturday, December 8, 2018
Correction
I ran into Jill, the cat rescue lady, the day after I posted about Tibby and Milo playing with the ball on the track. She actually lives right around the corner, and we sometimes marvel that we had no idea how close our kittens were before we adopted them. I'm sure I walked right by there several times, and I wonder if they were in the window waiting for me to look over.
At any rate, on this particular morning, I hailed Jill heartily as she walked her dog toward me and Lucy. "I was just thinking of you!" I told her. "Tibby and Milo were playing with that toy you told us they love, the one you said they were the only cats to ever play with."
She looked pensive, and then her face lightened. "The ball and the track?" she remembered. "Oh, my cats still play with that all the time and they are 7 and 8. They love it!" she concluded amiably.
My face fell. I could have sworn she told us that our cats were the only cats she ever saw play with that toy. But, then I shrugged and smiled back at her. "Well that must be who who our kittens learned from!" I recovered.
At any rate, on this particular morning, I hailed Jill heartily as she walked her dog toward me and Lucy. "I was just thinking of you!" I told her. "Tibby and Milo were playing with that toy you told us they love, the one you said they were the only cats to ever play with."
She looked pensive, and then her face lightened. "The ball and the track?" she remembered. "Oh, my cats still play with that all the time and they are 7 and 8. They love it!" she concluded amiably.
My face fell. I could have sworn she told us that our cats were the only cats she ever saw play with that toy. But, then I shrugged and smiled back at her. "Well that must be who who our kittens learned from!" I recovered.
Friday, December 7, 2018
Drawn
I have a student who draws the most dynamic stick figures I've ever seen; most of his assignments and notebooks are populated by a tiny army, each member of whom seems poised to crawl, run, jump, swim, or fly right off the page. Truth be told, he is very involved in his self-drawn world, and often are the times when he must be reminded to set it aside.
Heidi happens to teach him too, and the other day she gave her class an assignment to draw faces on cartoon figures who were witnesses to a student behaving unexpectedly and throwing a chair. There were only three characters on the assignment sheet, but this particular kid added several more to his pape.
"What's up with this person?" Heidi asked pointing to an extra figure who was smiling. "Is he happy that the other student is getting in trouble?"
"No!" answered our guy. "That's me!"
"Do you like it when people throw chairs?" Heidi continued.
"No!" he told her. "I'm smiling because I have all A's!"
"Look at the picture," Heidi told him. "Does what you're saying go with it?"
He did a quick doubletake and then grabbed his pencil and drew a tiny paper in the fist of the smiling stick boy. Then he write A+ on it. "There!" he smiled.
Heidi happens to teach him too, and the other day she gave her class an assignment to draw faces on cartoon figures who were witnesses to a student behaving unexpectedly and throwing a chair. There were only three characters on the assignment sheet, but this particular kid added several more to his pape.
"What's up with this person?" Heidi asked pointing to an extra figure who was smiling. "Is he happy that the other student is getting in trouble?"
"No!" answered our guy. "That's me!"
"Do you like it when people throw chairs?" Heidi continued.
"No!" he told her. "I'm smiling because I have all A's!"
"Look at the picture," Heidi told him. "Does what you're saying go with it?"
He did a quick doubletake and then grabbed his pencil and drew a tiny paper in the fist of the smiling stick boy. Then he write A+ on it. "There!" he smiled.
Thursday, December 6, 2018
Jill Was Right
"They are the only two cats I have ever seen play with that toy!" the rescue foster lady, Jill, said when she introduced us to our kittens last year. "They love it!"
I looked at the plastic disk about 12 inches in diameter that she was pointing to. The center had a circle of corrugated cardboard for scratching, and a ping pong-sized ball rolled around it on an outside track. Tibby and Milo were too nervous to play then, but we made sure to buy one just like it on our first kitty shopping spree.
It was impossible to know if they liked it, though, because Lucy stole the ball every time. Over the next year or so, they did use the scratching part of the device, and recently I ordered a replacement cardboard piece. The box was waiting on the stoop this afternoon when we returned home from work, and I wasted no time fitting the new scratcher in place. Heidi was out with Lucy, and so on a whim, I also dropped a hard catnip ball into the outer groove and gave it a little push.
Oh my! In seconds Tibby and Mila were batting the ball back and forth, pouncing and rolling and diving to get a better angle. It was impossible not to giggle as they played so energetically and so together, and I was reminded of what a warm feeling it is to please your pets.
I looked at the plastic disk about 12 inches in diameter that she was pointing to. The center had a circle of corrugated cardboard for scratching, and a ping pong-sized ball rolled around it on an outside track. Tibby and Milo were too nervous to play then, but we made sure to buy one just like it on our first kitty shopping spree.
It was impossible to know if they liked it, though, because Lucy stole the ball every time. Over the next year or so, they did use the scratching part of the device, and recently I ordered a replacement cardboard piece. The box was waiting on the stoop this afternoon when we returned home from work, and I wasted no time fitting the new scratcher in place. Heidi was out with Lucy, and so on a whim, I also dropped a hard catnip ball into the outer groove and gave it a little push.
Oh my! In seconds Tibby and Mila were batting the ball back and forth, pouncing and rolling and diving to get a better angle. It was impossible not to giggle as they played so energetically and so together, and I was reminded of what a warm feeling it is to please your pets.
Wednesday, December 5, 2018
Stay on Message
I said all of these things more than twice today:
We want you to be successful.
How does that behavior help you learn?
When we give you a direction, it's because we want to help you get back on track.
What would have been a better choice?
We are here to support you!
We want you to be successful.
How does that behavior help you learn?
When we give you a direction, it's because we want to help you get back on track.
What would have been a better choice?
We are here to support you!
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
Jeepers
One of our students has been missing his school-issued iPad so long that he actually got a replacement. But, for the first time, this year along with a new device, families also get a bill along the lines of the deductible on an insurance policy, somewhere around 300 bucks. Not long after the invoice was received, miraculously, the first iPad was found!
So, after some confusion this morning-- It says my iPad is locked because it's lost, but it isn't lost because I found it-- the new device was returned in favor of the original.
"Where was it, anyway?" I asked with mild curiosity.
"Inside the bench in our Jeep!" he reported with astonishment. "And guess what?" He paused for dramatic effect. "It had my binder, too!"
"That sneaky Jeep!" I laughed, but he was grave and wide-eyed.
"I know," he said.
So, after some confusion this morning-- It says my iPad is locked because it's lost, but it isn't lost because I found it-- the new device was returned in favor of the original.
"Where was it, anyway?" I asked with mild curiosity.
"Inside the bench in our Jeep!" he reported with astonishment. "And guess what?" He paused for dramatic effect. "It had my binder, too!"
"That sneaky Jeep!" I laughed, but he was grave and wide-eyed.
"I know," he said.
Monday, December 3, 2018
Heavy Metal
The Monongahela River ran nickel and slow beneath a steel sky when we woke up in Pittsburgh this morning, and we followed an iron ribbon of highway through silver mountains as we headed home. Despite the zincy skies, not a single raindrop fell until the clouds opened and lead subsided to cobalt and gold as both sunlight and rain poured earthward.
Sunday, December 2, 2018
Ode to PGH
Oh, Pittsburgh!
You continue to delight me. You are so unassuming, and so pleasant. When the department store anchoring your nascent waterfront destination shopping district closes, you open a maker's market full of cool, local, handmade stuff. Parking for your downtown Christmas Market is cheap and so convenient to the stalls loaded with authentic, traditional items imported from Europe.
One merry block over the skating and holiday decorations of the PPG Plaza twinkle day and night. And just inside the towering glass castle of No. 1 PPG Place, the Wintergarden Atrium has been transformed to a gingerbread neighborhood of over 400 houses, churches, schools, and stadiums made by real people, and children play carols on the grand piano for the assembled crowd.
And your bridges! Soaring, beautiful, and functional! They span your rivers and and link your ridges with pride. No longer are you an isolated, frontier boom town built on coal, steel, and grit, or an anonymous blue collar city on the threshold of middle America.
Today your history and culture are open to all who are willing to go west on the turnpike, and oh! How much you have to offer to any who make the trip!
You continue to delight me. You are so unassuming, and so pleasant. When the department store anchoring your nascent waterfront destination shopping district closes, you open a maker's market full of cool, local, handmade stuff. Parking for your downtown Christmas Market is cheap and so convenient to the stalls loaded with authentic, traditional items imported from Europe.
One merry block over the skating and holiday decorations of the PPG Plaza twinkle day and night. And just inside the towering glass castle of No. 1 PPG Place, the Wintergarden Atrium has been transformed to a gingerbread neighborhood of over 400 houses, churches, schools, and stadiums made by real people, and children play carols on the grand piano for the assembled crowd.
And your bridges! Soaring, beautiful, and functional! They span your rivers and and link your ridges with pride. No longer are you an isolated, frontier boom town built on coal, steel, and grit, or an anonymous blue collar city on the threshold of middle America.
Today your history and culture are open to all who are willing to go west on the turnpike, and oh! How much you have to offer to any who make the trip!
Saturday, December 1, 2018
The Journey
Over Rivers and bridges and through rain and tunnels and under mountains and...
Christmas Lights!
Let the holiday shopping begin!
Christmas Lights!
Let the holiday shopping begin!
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