Neighborhood Watch

This gorgeous weather has all the windows and doors open wide, not just in our house, but in all the neighbors' homes, too. The sound of laughter, music, snippets of conversation, and dogs barking floats in on the fresh breeze. With the exception of the pool, this complex is usually a bit of a ghost town, especially on a sunny summer Sunday. But not these days: with everybody home, fine weather, dog walking, food trucks, evening parking lot parties, community gardening, and all these open windows have turned this place into a proper neighborhood.

Z is for Zazen

As I walked through this beautiful afternoon I felt nothing but restless. I opened my arms, took a deep breath, and tried to embrace the blue sky and sunshine moment, but I wanted more: a purpose, a destination, something new to engage with. I felt bored and irritable.

The nine days left in the 100 day writing challenge for my students meant that I had been meditating for 91 days, and I felt discouraged that I didn't feel better today. Fortunately, there is a lot of information available to those of us who are new to a mindfulness practice, and a little research revealed that irritability like that I experienced today is common. Some attribute such uneasiness to stirring up stagnant apathetic, energy that can eventually be released; others hypothesize that it is a sign that your brain chemistry is changing, ultimately for the better.

But perhaps the advice that resonated most with me was that being mindful means noticing the good and the bad feelings, and then developing deliberate strategies to address negativity, rather than escape into distraction or lash out. That is a profound lesson, indeed.

Life Lesson: "Mindfulness is simply being aware of what is happening right now without wishing it were different: enjoying the pleasant without holding on when it changes (which it will),
being with the unpleasant without fearing it will always be this way (which it won’t)." – James Baraz

Y is for You're Not from around Here, Are Ya?

I may not be able to identify all the trees or flowers I see when I'm out walking, (although I am working on it, thank you iNaturalist!) but I can name almost any bird I that catches my eye as it flits from perch to perch. I know what's common around here, and it's hard to get excited about robins, blue jays, mockingbirds, cardinals, sparrows, crows, grackles, starlings, house finch, mourning doves, pigeons, ducks, Canada geese. Sure, there's still a thrill when I spot an eagle, or even a hawk. Vultures? Creep me out; blue herons are cool.

And then there was the pale blue and green parakeet I spotted on a telephone wire tonight, still easy to identify, but so obviously out of place. Before I could pull out my phone to snap a photo, it few away with scissoring wings and tail, nothing like the flight of those local avians.

"He doesn't want to get caught!" Heidi said as I lowered my phone in disappointment.

"Free at last!" I agreed.

Life Lesson: "If you think happiness is a rare bird, you won't see much of it." ~Marty Rubin

X is for X?

Traditionally, in the Alphabiography Challenge, X is one of the harder chapters to write, mostly because there just aren't a lot of words that begin with X! Even so, I think I've found some pretty good topics over the years:

X is for X Xing Xs

X is for X-men

X is for eX-tra Sensory Perception (and X-ray)

X is for X Marks the Spot

And this year, I was especially impressed with a couple of my students' ideas, although clearly it was a challenge for many.

X is for Xenodochy

Xenodochy is the extending of hospitality towards strangers. It really isn’t common to see xenodochy today, but it was quite common in Ancient Greece.

AND

X is for Xantus’s Murrelet

I have never seen a Xantus’s Murrelet because I have never been to California’s southernmost waters.

Life Lesson: Do what it takes to get it done.

W is for Walking

I have filled my gas tank once since March 1. On average? I get about 375 miles per tank in around town driving. For comparison's sake, I have walked 549 miles in that same time period.

(I wonder how far Martha Stewart has walked!)

Life Lesson: "It's your road, and yours alone. Others can walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you." ~Rumi

V is for Vicarious

I have a confession to make: I kind of like Martha Stewart.

Years ago, when I was working as a cook at a catering company, several of our go to recipes were from Martha's cookbooks, Entertaining and Weddings. The dishes were always foolproof crowd-pleasers, so it was hard to throw any shade on her. And a few years later, when my 4-year-old nephew Riley told everyone he saw a lady on TV who looked like Aunt Tracey, I was a little tickled that it was Martha.

Even when she was sent to that low-security prison in West Virginia for the white collar crime of insider trading, I just couldn't hold it against her. Perhaps it helped that one of her fabulous estates is on Mount Desert Island, home of Acadia National Park, and one of my favorite places in the world. Or maybe it was just plain admiration for a middle class kid from Jersey City who went to Barnard and built a hundred and fifty million dollar business.

Either way, here's where I tell you that I subscribe to her magazine, Living, not for the decorating advice, nor the crafts, nor the recipes (although I do love the photos of all of those), but for Martha's monthly calendar which appears in the first pages of every issue. There we see, in addition to celebrations with friends and family, her exercise schedule (cardio and strength on alternating days), when she will glean her garden and clean her gutters, decorate and send her cards for holidays, groom her dogs, go horseback riding, pick and freeze peas, and swim and have cocktails by the pool. What an enviable life it seems she leads!

But I had to wonder today, when I got my June copy out of the mailbox, how far in advance they plan these issues, and what sort of alacrity could they bring to Living in this situation we all find ourselves. And I must say, that the calendar does reflect the reality of social distancing. Martha is at home, cooking, gardening, exercising, and caring for her pets.

But this month, the difference is, so am I. Okay, minus the horses and pool, but still.

Life Lesson:
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
~Mary Oliver
The Summer Day

U is for Up, Up, and Away

Tomorrow is National Paper Airplane Day. I know because in a continuing effort to keep my students connected to school, I have become a poor man's middle school version of the NYTimes At Home section, which offers three diversions a day for those of us who are, well, at home. I think my students appreciate my efforts-- in addition to a fact about the day, I have provided ice cream recipes, water bottle bird feeder directions, virtual tours of glaciers, personality quizzes, and the like all in an effort to keep the kids engaged and writing.

And tomorrow? It's a video about making paper airplanes, and a gentle prompt to consider any experience they might have with a real airplane.

Remember those?

Life Lesson: It's the journey, not the destination.

T is for These Things

1. Treat, my nephew

With the stay-at-home order this spring, Treat has expanded both his interest in gardening, and the vegetable beds he put in last year. His garden is amazing, and at 25, he is tireless and strong, especially when it comes to gardening.

2. Transplanting

So, I leapt at Treat's offer to help me in our garden. We even went ahead and made it official, adding his name to the community as our co-gardener. Treat and I spent over four hours in our garden today. I had some lumber and metal corners and I had hauled in 16 bags of top soil with the plan f constructing a raised bed. First, though, we had to move some flowers that were on the spot. With two of us working, the task went quickly and well, and we created a little cutting garden in the corner and along the fence.

3. Tomatoes

MY main crop has always been that jewel of summer, vine ripe tomatoes, and this year will be no different. After we wrestled the raised bed together and filled it with the soil, we put in 10 tomato plants. Some of them were from my friend and colleague, Enid, who nurtured them from seed for our school garden, which she manages quite impressively. After 11 weeks away from the building, it was nice to see her in person when she dropped the wee tomato plants by.

We still have a bunch more tomatoes to plant, too.

4. Tomorrow

Treat and I parted ways at a little before four, but not before agreeing to meet back there tomorrow morning to build another bed and plant a few more veggies.

5. Three sisters

One of the other projects we'll work on tomorrow will be creating the mounds for our three sister growing. This year we have four varieties of corn, five types of shell beans, and six or seven squashes. Planting those crops together last year was a whim, but this year? It's a mission!

6. Tired

I was pretty spent when I unlaced my boots and stepped out of them on the front porch. I headed right upstairs, shucked my garden duds, left the tie-dye t-shirt and cargo shorts in a heap on the floor and hit the shower. I'm still tired, but it's definitely the good kind.

As worn out as I am, I'm also so grateful for all the help. We made a lot of progress, much more than I ever could have done on my own, and I'm excited to get back in there tomorrow.

Life Lesson: T is also for Thanks!

S is for Strawberries

When I was about 4 years old, and my little brother was two, we moved to our first real house. Before that we had lived in an apartment and then a row house, but now we had a whole big front yard and back yard of our own. On one of our first days there, we were playing on the side of the house when we found a whole garden full of strawberries. We couldn't believe it, and when we tasted them, they were so sweet and juicy that soon we had eaten all of them.

When we told my mom, she was mad, because that garden belonged to our next door neighbor, and she made us go next door and apologize. But we were too afraid to knock on a stranger's door, so we just sat in the front yard and cried. Then my mom came out and marched us over there. Our neighbor, Mrs. Huddleston, was very forgiving, but we never did that again!

Life Lesson: If it seems too good to be true, it probably is!

R is for Rainy Days

The soft patter of the rain on our deck and the warm air floating in through the sliding glass door this morning reminded me of rainy days on summer vacation when I was a kid. As long as there weren't too many of them, it was always fun to find a way to occupy ourselves indoors.

A forced break from the sunshine and pool allowed us to listen to records and play spoons and pinochle, drink sweaty glasses of iced tea with lemonade, and read books out on the covered side porch. Sometimes the 4 O'Clock Movie would capture our attention and we would lose ourselves in some old black and white B movie, or else spend hours at the dining room table working on a jigsaw puzzle.

After dinner, if the rain had stopped, we ran around barefoot in the wet grass catching fireflies and putting them in a peanut butter jar with holes punched in the lid. The rule was that we had to let them go at the end of the evening, so we left the open jar on the back porch when we went inside to watch summer replacement variety shows before bed.

It seems like back then we slept soundly every night and woke up every day rested and ready for whatever the day might bring, rain or shine.

I think Sarah Dessen captured our lives perfectly in her novel Along for the Ride: "In the summer, the days were long, stretching into each other. Out of school, everything was on pause and yet happening at the same time, this collection of weeks when anything was possible."

Life Lesson: Summer is almost here!

Q is for a Question of Fairness

We walked over to pick our dog up from her friend Beckett's house this afternoon, and peering inside I could see the movie Jaws was on the television. It was the scene where first the dog and then the kid on the raft gets eaten by the shark.

"I was so young when it came out," Heidi said, "I don't really know the movie very well."

I know the movie quite well. I was 13 the summer everyone was talking about Jaws. "Don't go into the water" and "We're gonna need a bigger boat" were catchphrases and punchlines that everybody got. Everybody, that is, except me and my brother and sister. We were not allowed to see PG-Rated movies, and so Jaws was out. That didn't keep us from pestering my mom about seeing the movie, though, and I think when my aunt let my cousins, who were around our ages, go, that my mom decided we could see the movie of the summer, too.

I was excited for all of two minutes until I decided that if I had to wait until I was 13 to see a PG movie, then it was only fair that my brother and sister should have to wait, too. My mother dismissed my complaint out of hand, which shouldn't have surprised me, because we were one of those families with the same expectations and restrictions for all of us, same bedtime, same allowance, same number of chores. Even so, I chose this battle, and I pitched a fit, perhaps the last tantrum of my childhood.

My mother was unmoved. "Either you all go or none of you go," she told me, and it was clear she didn't care which I decided. My brother and sister on the other hand, were furious with me both for jeopardizing the movie AND for making the case at all. In the end? We saw the movie. For me, it did not live up to all the hype, but I liked knowing what the hype was about. I also regretted making such a big deal of the situation, not because I thought I was wrong, but because of the hard feelings.

Life Lesson:  Choose your battles wisely.

P is for Partay!

One of my teammates devised a plan to have a Dance-Off during his office hours this week. He even produced a video, complete with his adorable nine-month-old son, which made it pretty hard to turn down that invitation. So at 12:30 today, about 20 or so of us gathered virtually, familiar faces peering out from the tiles of the screen. It was by far the best attended session of online schooling so far, and we all happily chatted as we waited for the main event. Oh, there was a giggle of a dance-off, but when it was through, we played the Cha-Cha Slide, and everyone got a chance to show off some moves. The thirty minutes slid by, and there were smiles all around as we said good-bye.

Life Lesson: Sometimes just showing up is enough.

O is for Opinion, Please

A couple of weeks ago I got a mysterious envelope in the mail. It was addressed to the resident of our address, and it contained 2 crisp dollar bills along with an exclusive invitation to join the Knowledge Panel.

According to my letter, KnowledgePanel, now part of Ipsos, was created by two Stanford University professors in 1999. Ipsos randomly selects only a few addresses each year to receive an invitation to join KnowledgePanel, a group that takes part in national polls and surveys. 

So academic.
So elite.
So too good to be true.

The letter continued, Our panel helps us track national trends in the economy, politics, entertainment, sports and new products. We would like your household to be a part of this important research.

Of course I was suspicious! Who are these Ipsos people who want me to "join" them, and what does that even mean? A little internet research later, I learned that, according to Wikipedia, Ipsos "is a multinational market research and a consulting firm based in Paris."

I also discovered that, according to Reddit, they are pretty much who and what they say they are: a French market research firm who wants my American opinion.

Oo la la!

Life Lesson: “Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.” ~William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well

N is for Not Fine, Thanks

Perhaps the best advice I've heard about coping with all the disruption and anxiety of social and physical distancing is to take some time to search your self and see what is working for you now that wasn't before. Without denying the hardship and loss of anyone else, I acknowledge that the pace of this life suits me. I can tell that fewer options, less time spent on shopping and other errands, and more sleep are good for me.

So if I could only set aside concern for the good and welfare of others, (a precept that is baked into my life's work), I might say that I was more than fine.

Life Lesson: Look at the big picture.

M is for Murder Most Entertaining

We solved our murder box mystery yesterday. Over the last couple of months, sifting through evidence, cracking codes, and reading crime reports and letters out loud, has become sort of a Saturday morning routine, like cartoons for grown-ups.

When I was younger, the relatively new field of forensic anthropology was fascinating to me. So much so that, for Christmas one year, my mother gave me a ticket to a seminar at the Smithsonian on the topic. Back then, I used to read gory murder mysteries with gusto, and I was equally captivated by anything to do with serial killers and other true crime.

But like cartoons, I kind of feel like the older I get, the less entertaining someone else's misfortune is. Oh, I still get sucked in by the odd Dateline or 48 Hours, but it's harder to shake the knowledge that real lives were shattered, and at least one was ended by the events that I'm sitting on my couch watching.

The murder box made it easy to stay detached. Clearly fictional, the setting was 85 years in the past; none of the principals were even alive. And it was fun.

But still. It's a little twisted, isn't it?

Life Lesson: "Vicarious living is only slightly less impossible than vicarious eating." ~Mason Cooley

L is for Let it Go

It wasn't until mid-afternoon that I noticed something was wrong with my Apple Watch. I couldn't check my activity rings by tapping on the complication I conveniently placed at the bottom of the screen. So, I did what anyone would advise me to do: I restarted my watch.

Or, at least I tried. It took a couple of attempts to move the slider all the way over to the right. Once the dark screen was replaced by the glowing apple which was replaced by Mickey Mouse, I swiped down to put in my passcode. The first two numbers went in, but all the tapping in the world could not get my previously so reliable little device to unlock.

It soon became clear to me that the bottom of my screen was not working, and upon closer examination I gasped to discover that there was a thin crack running the right to left diagonal from top to bottom. There were a couple of small chips missing from the edges of the crystal as well. My watch was toast. A quick glance at the activity app on my phone showed that it had stopped tracking me when I restarted it, and so, there would be no more syncing of steps and stands and exercise, and the day would be a wash when it came to my fitness stats.

It took me a minute to figure out what that meant to me. Would my activity be that tree in an empty forest? Did I have permission to slack off until Monday, which was the soonest I could get a replacement? Was I doing whatever I was doing for me or for my watch? Upon answering that last question, I sighed and shrugged, determined to tough it out for 48 hours.

Life Lesson: "Integrity is doing the right thing even when no one is watching." ~C.S. Lewis

K is for Keep Growing, Would Ya?

T'was on February 16 that my fingernails were clipped, cleaned, and manicured, professionally. On that day, I oped for a lovely neutral gel polish, and as much as I loved the way they turned out, I have been regretting that decision since March 16, when the governor's stay at home order made it quite clear that any kind of repair or touch-up was indefinitely out of the question.

Oh, I did my best to DIY, ordering hard-to-come-by kits and watching online videos, but my nails became some weird science experiment: natural at the bottom and soft and peeling at the top. I've continued to work on it with files and clippers, and yes, I confess, my teeth. Finally, three months later, the gel is almost gone: I have just a few pseudo-French tips and those persistent, waning gibbous smears clinging to my thumbs.

Oh! How happy I will be to see my natural nails... the better to manicure, again. Or not.

Life Lesson: All in good time.

J is for Jack Sh*t

The term popped into my mind as I was lying on my new exercise mat, not exercising, but staring at the ceiling and feeling completely uninspired by anything beginning with J.

Where did that phrase even come from? I wondered. And does it mean anything or nothing?

Like, you don't know jack, means you don't know anything, but it's worth jack, means it's worth nothing.

What the heck? My curiosity roused me from the floor and over to the computer.

It turns out that the origin of this phrase is a mystery, although there is some unconvincing speculation about "Jack" historically being a common diminutive and thus Jack shit is worth even less than regular shit. That seems very improbable to me, but what do I know?

And it actually does mean both anything and nothing, which is a lot like this alphabiography.

Life Lesson: "Words are all we have." ~Samuel Beckett

I is for Intrinsic

In an effort to keep those kids engaged with school and rescue myself from 30 cringy minutes of small talk, I have planned fun activities for my virtual office hours. Today, any student with the gumption to log in and join the conference was presented with a scavenger hunt and the promise of a reward if successfully completed.

The ten items were common enough to ensure success within 10 minutes, and also designed to start conversations. The first was a book, What is it about? later it was a photograph, Who is it of? Where was it taken? and something old, This is my baby blanket; these are my cleats from when I was 7; this has been in the house since it was built... 5 years ago.

Our half-hours flew by, and I spent the afternoon writing 8 short notes of thanks and encouragement (and the challenge to invite at least one other student next week), which I dropped into an envelope along with a slim Air Head candy wrapped in shiny foil.

I have hope that they will know which is the true prize.

Life Lesson: "Every moment happens twice: once outside and once inside." ~Zadie Smith

H is for How Much Longer?

My heart sank when I heard last Thursday that our days of distance teaching and learning would continue through June 12. I've been doing my best to stay positive and see the silver linings of this far from perfect situation, but extending it another 5 weeks seems impossible.

As one of my students wrote recently, We are coming to the time we’re we have been out of school for 9 weeks next week it will be ten. I am so bored, it’s a whole new level of bored.

And I know most kids feel that way. It is a struggle to engage them at all, let alone teach them. But of course, we're not giving up. My team and I are working hard to plan and design writing activities that kids will enjoy, and just today I was in a meeting full of ideas for bingo, pictionary, dance parties, and scavenger hunts. We can and we will get those kids involved in school.

And? The end of the year is coming, just not as quickly as we hoped.

Life Lesson: Mind over matter.

G is for Get Thee to the Garden

With all of our pandemic productivity, there is one area of our life that has not flourished as I thought it might. Our community garden is still a bare plot of earth. Every week I think I'll find the time to head over to the hardware store or garden center to pick up what we need, but these cool rainy days have discouraged me from that chore.

My nephew has offered his labor any time we need it, and I assure him each time he offers that I will gladly accept. I'm optimistic that the coming week with its warmer weather will give me the nudge I need to get out there and get to planting. And if it happens? We will still be about 3 weeks earlier than usual.

Life Lesson: To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. ~Ecclesiastes 3. 1

F is for Fantasy

One of my students writes every day about the the TV show Once Upon a Time. Airing from 2011-18 on ABC, the premise of the show is that all the fairy tale characters have been cursed to forget their identities and live real lives in the present day town of Storybrook, Maine. I was definitely aware of the show when it was on, but I can't say that I ever saw a single episode.

Still, this kid was so enthusiastic about it: what a good message it has, what a good role model the main character is, and on and on, that one evening a few weeks ago, when we found ourselves with nothing in particular to watch, I pointed the remote and clicked over to Netflix and found Once Upon a Time and started watching. 

It is a very sweet show, with interesting takes on familiar characters, and a solid good versus evil theme running through (how it could it be otherwise?). Even though it was only made about nine years ago, there is something innocent and even nostalgic about the sensibility that makes me remember the early tweens of this century as a simpler time. 

Whether it was or not, doesn't matter. Once Upon a Time is perfect pandemic viewing for us, and you might think so, too.

Life Lesson: In times of trouble, find what comforts you.

E is for Exploring

We set out to the east this afternoon, over bridges and highways, past expensive homes and secret service details. The day was bright, but very cold, and a brisk wind nipped at our heels the whole way. There were a couple of wrong turns, but the error of our way was quickly corrected, and we found our destination without too much trouble. Down into the valley of a small spring-fed perennial stream we descended, through a tiny mixed hardwood forest. We followed the path through the nature preserve and out into the neighborhood on the other side. Then it was up Canyon Road, around Washington Circle, and over Mount Eagle to the Shirlington foot bridge over I-395.

We were never more than 2 1/2 miles from home, but it was still a pretty amazing adventure.

Life Lesson: "There is treasure everywhere." ~Calvin and Hobbes

D is for Did You Say Frost?

Here we are, over a week into May and some sort of dip in the Jet Stream is threatening a freeze warning in our area and a nice dump of snow in the mountains just a couple hours to our west. Truth be told, I'm not really upset. If we have to stay home, why not enjoy one or two more cozy evenings by the fire? Soon enough, the days will warm, and I will sweep the hearth and leave it bare for summer.

Summer. Whatever that will be like.

Life Lesson: Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy. ~Leo Buscaglia

C is for Cinco de Mayo

We don't often celebrate Mexican Independence Day, but this year, since we were not doing anything anyway, I decided to make it a true taco Tuesday. We actually have tacos quite often-- sometimes fish, sometimes cauliflower, sometimes grilled chicken or steak, but this time I decided to make old school tacos the way my mom used to when we were kids.

Back then, in New Jersey? Nobody ate tacos. But we were an airline family and some good friends of ours had recently moved to Southern California. Whenever we visited them, besides swimming in their backyard pool and biking to Huntington Beach, we also ate exotic foods such as Jolly Ranchers (also unavailable on the East Coast in the 70s), Farrells Ice Cream, and tacos.

The homemade version we had was Mexican only in name. They were really just corn tortillas warmed in the oven with a slice American Cheese and topped with plain fried ground beef, chopped tomatoes and shredded ice berg lettuce, but we loved them! So much so, that my mom would pack corn tortillas in her suitcase and keep them in the freezer in New Jersey for those California dreaming days when nothing but a taco for dinner would do.

And that is what I made for dinner on Tuesday. Okay, I used cheddar instead of American and we had avocado on our tacos, too, but the simple, clean flavors of corn, cheese, beef, tomato, and lettuce took me right back, not to California, but to our kitchen table in South Jersey. Ole!

Life lesson: Sometimes tradition is the best sauce.

B is for Becoming a Reader

I received Becoming Brianna, the latest book in the Emmie & Friends series by Terri Libenson yesterday. I had preordered it months ago, knowing how popular the graphic novel series is with sixth grade girls, especially, and when it arrived I was a little sad to know that I wouldn't be sharing my copy with any kids this year.

I was also a little excited, though, because my niece Annabelle and I have read the other books in the series together, even though she lives in Atlanta. We had a virtual book group before they became popular by necessity. This year Annabelle is in sixth grade, and my heart goes out to her, because I know all that she's missing at the end of the year. She's an extrovert, too, so that in person connection that all my students write about missing is especially important to her.

I texted Annabelle a picture of the cover as soon as I opened the package, and she replied immediately. When she was younger, she used to be an avid reader, but in the last few years she says she doesn't like it much anymore. Even so, she is eagerly upholding our tradition of reading these particular books together.

As a teacher, it has always been my philosophy to help every student find a book they want to read rather than assign them a required text. Years ago, when graphic novels were enjoying the beginning of what has become a publishing tsunami of popularity, there was a big debate in teaching as to whether reading them really "counted" as reading. In between the firm yes and no positions that educators held, there was middle ground that posited that engaging, easy-to-read books could be gateways for resistant readers, inviting them in to the fold, and helping them to see themselves as people who read.

These days, every teacher I know has a lot of graphic novels on the classroom book shelf, but there is still kind of a bias against them. In my niece's school, students are assigned quarterly book projects and they are required to pick a book that is on or above their reading level. Annabelle is a good reader, and finding a book is often a challenge for her because so many great, high interest titles are below her score.

I have to wonder if there is a correlation between the assignment expectations and her diminishing interest in reading, especially given our mutual enthusiasm for Becoming, Brianna. After all? It's a little below my reading level, too.

Life Lesson: If you want 'em to read, let 'em read what they want!

A is for Andiamo!

As a monolingual language teacher, I confess to being intrigued by the mentions a few of my students have made, both in writing and conversation before school was out, of their Duolingo Streaks. I have overheard them off-handedly compare notes about using the free app to learn Greek, Latin, Russian, and Klingon in their spare time, and I have been a bit envious.

Although I don't really speak (or read or write) any other languages fluently, I took French through college, lived in Italian and Arabic-speaking countries for several years as a teenager, been fortunate enough to travel widely, and have participated in countless Spanish-translated conferences in my years of teaching in this diverse county.

In those situations, as the conversation washes over me, I feel the meaning of these other languages just out of reach, like trying to remember a wonderful dream when I wake up. I want to understand.

And so yesterday, on a whim, I downloaded the app that the kids speak of so casually, so cooly. And friends? My streak is two! I am learning Italian. Or, perhaps I should say, Io imparo Italiano!

Life Lesson: You can teach an old dog new tricks-- with time and motivation.

Alphabetical Order

For the last few years I have assigned abecedarian poems to my students.

Pronounced A-B-C-darian, it is an ancient poetic form guided by alphabetical order. Generally each line or stanza begins with the first letter of the alphabet and is followed by the successive letter, until the final letter is reached. The form was frequently used in many cultures for sacred compositions, such as prayers, hymns, and psalms.

Some 20th century abecedarians are The Gashleycrumb Tinies, by Edward Gorey, and Alligators All Around by Maurice Sendak, both of which are works my brother and sister and I enjoyed when we were teens.

For their assignment, the students are only asked to compose something beautiful: sometimes they make sense; sometimes they are thematic; sometimes they are silly and random. This year, though, like everything the kids have written during our distance learning, the images they chose are revealing.

Here is a mashup of their poems, each line sampled from a different poet:

A is for Amsterdam a city on stilts
B is for Baker's Wife, Be More Chill and Bye Bye Birdie
C is for cool mornings and warm afternoons
D is for Dad that I wish I had
E is for eeeeeeew that’s nasty
F is for fire that lights the night
G is for good boy I am a good boy
H is for hugs lots of people love hugs
I’s for igloo as cold as ice
J’s for jumpy just like mice
K is for kids who play all day
L is for llama, the one that spits
M is for masterminds (I’m talking about you!)
N is for night dark and mysterious
O is for outside where I don’t want to go
P is for pick a card, any card
Q is for quarantine
R is for the common robin, who just had her eggs in my backyard.
S is for school because I am looking forward to going back
T is for toaster strudel
U is for us, we are animals
V is for viral
W is for waltzing silently
X’s for Xmas, that makes me laugh like a silly clown!
Y’s for yorkie, a small, but feisty little dog 🐕
Z is for Zoe who writes poetry

The poems are also a prewriting activity for the May Writing Challenge which is Alphabiography-- stay tuned for more on those soon!

Lighten Up While You Still Can

When I was a teenager, the first part of the weekend was always dedicated to cleaning the house. My mom would pop the Eagles' Greatest Hits into the 8 track player and blast it on continuous loop until our home was clean. Back then, I pulled my pillow over my head and tried to stay asleep as long as I could, but the band didn't make it easy with their breezy sing-along seventies rock, and neither did my mom.

In fact, our conflict over that very chore led to one of my more infamous occasions of disrespect. After studying Hamlet, I pulled my head from under the pillow and snarled, "Do you know what 'termagant' means?"

She did not. "Why don't you tell me?" she replied.

And I was stupid enough to do so.

As I cleaned my own house this morning, though, something there was that made me think a little loud music would lighten the labor. Of course the first sound track I considered was Eagles' Greatest Hits, followed by a couple of my mom's other favorites, John Denver and Fleetwood Mac.

And you now what? The house was scrubbed, dusted, vacuumed, and mopped in quick and easy fashion, before You Can Go Your Own Way was over.

Thanks, Ma.

Family History

Today is my grandfather's birthday. A man who married and had children a little later in life, he was born 124 years ago, in 1896. Granddaddy was 66 when I was born, and despite his energy and independence, he seemed pretty old to us when we were kids. He smoked cigars and a pipe and always wore a tie and a fedora when he left the house; he was a past commander of the local American Legion post, a big booster of youth baseball (there is a league named for him in Maryland), and he thought Archie Bunker was hilarious.

My granddad died the year I was 20, and when I think of him now it seems impossible that I could personally have known and loved someone who was born such a long time ago. He served in WWI, lost a business after the stock market crash of 1929, scrabbled hard to make a living during the depression, and moved the family to Washington, DC at the beginning of WWII, when my grandmother got a job at the Pentagon.

He was in his early twenties during the last pandemic. In fact his mother died of influenza, but not until 1928. She was only 60 then, just a couple of years older than I am now. And the 95 years that separate us in time somehow don't seem quite so unbridgeable as they might have just a few months ago.

Mayday, Mayday

The first of May rescued us from the coldest, wettest April I can ever remember. I'm sure part of the problem was that we were home with nothing to distract us from the weather, but when going outside is one of very few recreation options, you begin to take the rain a little personally. This new month dawned as gray as its predecessor, but by 3 PM blue sky was clearly visible behind and in between clouds more white than gray. And as I write, the sun is shining and a light breeze is riffling through the trees. All that rain really greened up the place, too. Tomorrow is set to be the jewel of the spring so far, temps in the high 70s and sunshine to spare, but the rain is predicted to return on Sunday, and May is actually forecast to be cooler and damper than usual. But that? Is a worry for another day.