As it Should Be

I had a moment this afternoon, while walking the dog through relentless rain and mourning the safety and flexibility of working from home that we will soon lose, when all I wanted was to throw everything aside, like the covers in the morning when I get up, and drive cross country in April with my nephew Treat and camp for 10 days in Death Valley. Upon my return, I would go down to the Outer Banks and stay with my other nephew, Victor, on the beach for a couple weeks, until it was time to head to Alaska, where our godson, Josh, will be working this summer. 

Why not? I thought. What's stopping me?

The answer is some variation of 30 years and all the stuff that binds a 58-year-old teacher to the (wonderful) life she has built. 

But these boys! These men-- it has been my joy to take them on some of their earliest adventures, and now it stings a little to be left behind as they go forth and do such awesome things on their own.

Limited Series

As I mentioned in an earlier post, our latest TV binge has been The Crown on Netflix. Four seasons late to the party, we have had the luxury of carrying right on through the show at our pleasure. For us, "binge" means one or, at the very most, two episodes an evening, and so we slowly make our way through this series or that. As we neared the end of the second season of The Crown, I was aware there would be a cast change, and I had grown so attached to Claire Foy as Queen Elizabeth that I was not ready to let her go. 

Pausing at the end of episode nine, we watched several documentaries about the real royal family. "Why don't they include this stuff in the show?" Heidi griped.

"Because it's a show," I said. "They have a dramatic arc and too much extraneous information would be confusing."

She shrugged unconvinced.

Eventually, we watched the end of season two and moved on to season three. As I predicted, I could not get behind Olivia Coleman as the queen. "Why did they have to drop a perfectly good Queen Elizabeth?" I griped.

"Because it's a show," Heidi answered. "They have to show time passing somehow."

I shrugged, unconvinced.

Happy Burpday

Pity poor Lucy-- today is her birthday and she had a grooming appointment, not something she loves. It's hard to know if it's the combing, the clipping, the bathing, the drying, or the anal gland expression, but suffice it to say that a spa day? It is not. Even so, grooming is a necessary nuisance which happens regularly, and so Lucy must sigh and go along quietly.

To add insult to injury, she has also been suffering from a bout of indigestion which has her gulping and belching and straining to eat the sweet, sweet grass that only dogs can identify for sure. As closely as we watch her diet, with Lucy digestion is delicate and sometimes difficult. Never a shy dog, last night she woke us up, heaving and hiccuping. "Tomorrow is going to suck!" Heidi growled once Lucy was finally settled, snoring away, stomach gurgling. 

It was hard not to agree, but for the fact that we love her so!

It Seems Only Fair

Last year I realized that if I was going to ask my students to step out of their comfort zone and challenge themselves to do something every day for one hundred days, then I should do that, too. My challenge couldn't be writing, since that has become a habit, so what could I do? 

Back then, in March of 2020, I decided on sit-ups and meditation, and I despite the pandemic (or perhaps because of it?), I am proud to say I made my hundred days and have continued on. Daily diligence is kind of my jam.

What's next? you might wonder, as I have, too. So I decided to throw it out to the kids. Next week, they will get to propose a hundred day challenge for me. And honestly? I can't wait to see what they come up! 

Stay tuned.

A Lifetime

Today was the day when I introduced the 100 Day Writing Challenge to my students. Technically, it starts next Monday, March 1, but with conferences at the end of the week and asynchronous learning, it made sense to go over it now. Plus, I've learned over the years that a few built-in safety nets prevent kids from dropping out if they miss a day or two along the way. 

I wasn't always so flexible, though. When I first started the challenge, I thought the dread of losing everything for missing a day would be more than enough to keep kids in it to win it. After all, I have held myself to the rigorous standard of daily posting since March 1, 2009 with never a miss. But these days I know that what works for me isn't necessarily what's best for everyone, and I really just want the kids to write.

When I was giving the origin story of the writing challenge this morning, though, I did tell the students that I had written every day since March 2009. "What?" one student unmuted to exclaim. "That's longer than I've been alive!"

Home School

 The question of the day today was What is a rule you have in your family that you would change if you could? The answers came in fast, but the first to respond wrote I would change the video games only on weekends! 

"That sounds like you!"I told him a little while later, as we were reading through the replies. "I know it must be hard to wait until Friday for your games."

As he unmuted to answer me, there was murmuring in the background and we could hear his mom talking to him. A little chime sounded, alerting us all to an addition in the chat. "I changed my answer," he said.

I wouldn't change any rules, he had posted. They are all for my own good.

We Shall See

The calendars on the bulletin board were turned to March  2020 and the list of homeroom students was outdated as well when I entered my classroom this morning for the first time this school year. When people insist that it's time to open school now, we bristle, because school has been in full session since September, despite access to the buildings being quite limited. The 50+ hours a week we teachers have been putting in are testament.

But here I am, tweaking my classroom layout and doing a tech check on the equipment I will use to teach "concurrently"-- some students in person, others virtually, all at the same time. I'm also acclimating to wearing a mask all day, which may end up being the most challenging part of the model for me. I do have hopes that being in person, some of the time, will benefit some of the kids, and that the mitigation our district has promised will be enough to keep everyone safe, and I can only do what I can do.

Rumi wrote:

The same wind that uproots trees

makes the grasses shine. 

Time to shine. 

Not as Smart as You Think, Watch

Heidi and I rely on our smart watches to track our activity and exercise. Sometimes? That's a good thing, like when we head out for a walk or do a work out because we're behind on our rings. Sometimes, it's demotivating, like when one of us says, I don't have shit today! Why bother? and then plops down on the couch with some ice cream. 

A little while ago, I was in the middle-- I got my exercise and stand goals, but my activity goal seems unreachable. I could blame it on the cold or the fact that I spent a good chunk of the day in front of a screen working on grades, but tonight I shrugged it off and vowed to do better tomorrow. 

As I was verbally processing my decision, Heidi looked at her watch and noticed all her goals were at zero. Obviously a glitch-- she restarted her watch twice before she heard the little chime congratulating her for standing or something. 

"I can't believe none of the apps checked in with me all day!" she griped.

"I know!" I said. "As far as they're aware, you haven't moved since midnight! They should have been all over you to get the hell up!"

"Or call 911!" she added.

The Current Crisis

Yesterday I was enjoying a remote lunch with the colleagues I used to eat with every day before the pandemic. We were chatting about this and that: the weather, students, return to school, and of course, vaccines. Which one will your parents get? Did you have a reaction to the second dose?  How effective is P or M or J against the various variants? What company is closest to having the next approved vaccine?

"A year ago who would have thought we would be so interested and well-versed in big pharma?" I laughed. "I doubt I could have named a single company!"

"Maybe the one that was responsible for the opioid crisis?" Liz suggested.

"Probably," I said, thinking. "Who was that again?"

Err... 

As well-read and knowledgeable as the three of us are (clearly evidenced by our awesome 9 out of 11 on the NY Times weekly news quiz-- equal or better than 88% of other readers!), we all drew a blank.

I guess there's only so much room for misfortune in any brain, or three.

17 Syllables

Friday is reading day in homeroom and our school always provides a great book talk from a staff member to inspire the kids and give them some good ideas about their next read. Today one of the counselors recommended Morning Haiku by Sonia Sanchez, a celebration and commemoration of the lives of revered African American artists and activists. As a follow up activity, the students were asked to write haikus for dedicated to people who inspired them.

The haiku is a deceptively simple form of verse. So often, young writers tick off the 5-7-5 syllables and call it a poem, and that is what most of my homeroom students did today. What they didn't take into consideration was how serious an editor I am. Those first 17 syllables they write usually reveal the topic, but not much more, and I love collaborating with poets, digging into their intention, meaning, and word choice, to find a way to use every syllable to its fullest advantage. 

Fortunately? A short poem is quick to revise, and in the 20 minutes we had, the kids submitted draft after draft in staccato quick fire, rearranging lines, cutting adverbs, and paring their syllables to uncover the essence of inspiration. 

"Do you like this draft better?" I always ask. "You don't have to say yes-- just be honest."

"Yah!" one student told me today. "I'm going to take it to my parents right now!"

Snow Day

The sharp smell of wood smoke filled the air when I stepped outside to walk the dog this evening. All day long a wintery mix of precipitation had tapped on the windows, but by 4:30 the sky was a bit lighter and the air was still. It was cold though, below freezing, as it had been for the last 24 hours, and an inch or so of icy snow drew a gauzy veil over all the grassy slopes and valleys in this hilly neighborhood making them ideal for fast but gentle sledding. Everywhere we walked Lucy and I heard the shouts and squeals of small children sliding on saucers and toboggans and then trudging back up  in the fading daylight for at least one more go. 

Downhearted

In anticipation of taking a dive into conflict with the young fiction writers in my class, today the intro question was What is something you hate to do? Most of the kids were quick to answer: dishes, chores, cleaning my room, homework, stepping on my little brother's legos, and so forth. 

But one student, who is usually quick and earnest on the Chat Snap was silent. "I can't think of anything," she unmuted to report.

"Nothing?!" I asked, mugging for the camera with wide eyes and exaggerated double take.

"Yeah," she confirmed, "I don't hate anything."

This kid is awfully sweet, and I kind of believed her. Or at least I believed that she believed it. "Do you have any pets?" I asked.

"We're getting a dog soon," she said.

"Well," I told her, "I think you might hate picking up dog poop. I do!" I paused to think. "What about chores?"

"I like chores!" she replied in a very credible tone.

"You are amazing!" I said. "I love your positivity! What about exercise? Burpees? Donkey Kicks?"

"I don't mind any exercise, except push-ups," she answered.

"Do you hate push-ups?" I asked.

"Yeah," she admitted.

"Well, put it in the chat!" I told her with false cheer, because rather than experiencing that satisfaction that accompanies talking another writer through the process to dig deep and find some inner truth, instead I felt kind of bad for forcing a sunny little kid to admit to some inner shade.

We're Going to Need a Bigger Toothbrush

I went to the dentist today for the first time since October 2019. My regular appointment was scheduled for just a few weeks after everything shut down last spring for the pandemic, and well, time slips, even more so these days. But having had my first dose of the vaccine, I called to schedule an appointment last week, expecting it to take some time for them to fit me in. But as luck would have it, there was a cancellation and so my teeth are sparkling and clean.

"Have there been any changes?" the hygienist asked.

"I think I might have a little more sensitivity to hot and cold," I told her.

"That is a classic symptom of clenching," she shook her head. "Have you been doing that?"

"Well, yeah," I answered. "These are kind of stressful times!" 

She laughed in agreement and continued her examination. "Go ahead and bite down for me," she directed, moving her fingers to my jawline. Her eyes widened. "Wow!" she said. "Those muscles are like little rocks. You really have been clenching!"

Oh Ho the Radio

Often when we're traveling by car I like to scan through the radio stations as we go, hoping to hear something new or something I haven't heard in a while, or even better, discover a station with a format and playlist that is surprising and satisfying and so pleasurably passes the time. As music, like so much other media, becomes more and more solipsistic, such stations are more and more rare. Sometimes, I worry about the future of radio. 

But today, as we were whizzing around the Richmond Bypass on our way home from the beach our scanning landed loud and clear on Bing Crosby singing White Christmas. "What the heck!" I said to Heidi, and peered at the display screen: Radio SNTA.  The next cut was a hilarious mash-up version of The Twelve Days of Christmas by Straight No Chaser, and then the DJ, Santa himself, broke in to explain that he wasn't ready to head back to the North Pole quite yet, and so Richmond got to enjoy some holiday spirit a bit longer than usual. 

Truth be told, I was hooked (and Heidi is very tolerant), so we sang along with an interesting and charming assortment of holiday songs until we were halfway to Fredericksburg, where the station faded into static and Christmas was past once more.

Family Ties

Not long ago a guy we have known all his life posted a birthday message. Happy 50th to my big sister! it read. The joke was that she is his little sister and she is still several years away from the half century mark. 

Even so, many people echoed his regards, prompting his sister to finally reply in exasperation, I am the little sister! 

We laughed about that today when we visited with those two and their mom. We were there to offer our sympathy and pay our respects to their dad who passed away a few days ago. "What gets me," the sister said, "is that some of the people who replied went to high school with me! Did they think I flunked five grades?"

Later on in the conversation we spoke warmly of the closeness our families have enjoyed for so long;  their parents and ours were dear friends since we were children. "We've known you guys for over 50 years," I said to their mom.

"I. am. not. 50!" her daughter answered.

"True," I agreed, "but we've kind of known the idea of you for 50 years." I shrugged.

Because that's how family works.

Tumble Dry

We always say, "A rainy day at the beach is still a day a the beach," but that attitude was definitely put the to the test today. 37 degrees, with driving rain and wind speed of up to 20 mph made even a short little walk on the beach a stinging trial of fortitude. Amid the blowing foam and flotsam were four sets of wings on the sand literally torn from the backs of the birds they once thrust into flight.

Back at our little bayside cottage we tossed our sopping clothes and even our coats in the dryer before heading out on our next adventure. When the timer buzzed and I opened the metal latch to fetch Heidi's jacket, the metallic smell of static and hot nylon nudged my nose with nostalgia. The heft and warmth of the freshly tumbled coat transported me back fifty years to the snow days of my childhood.  

When the cold and wet got the best of us and pink-cheeked we returned to the house, my mom gathered our stripped snow clothes and popped them in the dryer while we sipped steaming mugs of spiced tea and orange juice served with buttered slices of freshly baked Sally Lunn. And when we were ready to bundle up and go back out to play, Mom held our jackets right from the dryer and we slid our arms into them like receiving a warm hug, and then, so fortified, we readily faced the elements without hesitation.

So Long, Gar

hamburger, hamburger

all red hot

with an onion in the middle

and a pickle on top

 

Zhāo Cái Jìn Bǎo

Just a little while ago, our 8-year-old neighbor Sofia rang the door bell. Resplendent in red, she wished us a Happy Lunar New Year and offered us some homemade dumplings, which we were thrilled to accept.

"How many would you like?" she asked. "They are very lucky."

"Would 2 each be too many?" we asked.

She paused and gulped. "How about three each?" she offered. "Four is a bad luck number! It's like death!"

We were all too happy to adjust our order, plus? What a great reason to eat even more dumplings!

Expecting

I was just reading the meeting minutes, a friend and colleague texted this afternoon, I see you took your new line about expectations out for a walk.

I couldn't resist! I texted back.

And I couldn't, because sometimes those moments of clarity just have to be shared. As I was explaining the new camera-on policy to my class this morning, one of the students unmuted and asked (off camera), "Are you going to enforce that?"

It was his use of the word "enforce" that made me pause and consider the situation. 

"Well," I answered slowly, "if it was a requirement? I would enforce it. But this is an expectation-- it's your job to live up to it; as a member of our community, you have to enforce it for yourself."

There was silence, and I congratulated myself for finally finding a way to explain what "expectations" mean.

My proud moment was quickly cut short. "What if we don't?" he asked.

"Then your community will be verrrrry disappointed," I answered, leaning into the camera and wiping an imaginary tear.

All of the People None of the Time

"The superintendent is going to announce the return-to-school dates today," I told my students this morning, "so I'll finally get to meet some of you guys in person." 

Our system is opting for a hybrid model with concurrent instruction, so at any given time, 2/3 - 3/4 of the students will still be learning from home while their classmates attend school for 2 days a week. It's going to be a lot to juggle, and there will quite likely be something for everybody to dislike. 

"What about our break?" asked one student today. "How will that work when we're in school? Will we just be allowed to walk around the halls?"

"Your break?" I asked in return.

"Yeah, when we work asynchronously," she clarified.

"Um," I shook my head. "We're not going have those."

"I'm glad I'm staying home!" one of her classmates chimed in.

Shutter Lag

After months of not requiring students to turn their cameras on, last week we received guidance on the latest policy, which is that students are expected and encouraged to turn their cameras on, but not required. Such a shift, midyear, promises to be a hard transition to manage. Even in the early days of distance learning only a small number of middle schoolers chose to turn their cameras on, and that number has definitely dwindled as the days have passed. 

To be honest, as much as I want to see some faces, my some of the sights I've already seen have been far from camera ready. This new policy will require some direct instruction and reminders about expected on screen etiquette, which may be a bit of a hard sell to those students who never wanted their cameras on to begin with. 

Will being onscreen increase engagement? From a certain segment of our learners, probably. I know myself some of the shenanigans and distractions I engage in during this meeting or that, but when my camera's on, I am the very model of attentiveness (if you call staring at my own thumbnail image attentive). Still, a solid majority of my students answer me when I call on them, and I know they are paying attention, even if they are hunkered down on the bottom bunk with hanging sheets and blankets creating a little learning cocoon which may not transfer to the image they want to project to their peers.

Practically speaking, it takes a lot of bandwidth to have your camera on and access the learning management system and whatever other apps might be required, especially if you are using your phone as a hot spot. And for those with whom I would like to check in with more directly, there are always breakout rooms; I can pop a kid in there, have a heart to heart, all the while monitoring the main class on my iPad. In that one-on-one space I often ask for the camera to be turned on, so that our connection is more than just vocal.

For my convenience and ease as a teacher, it would be great to see that expanded Brady Bunch view of every child smiling and looking right at me as I impart all my wisdom, but there is no studio audience and we only have one take to get it right. And so I guess what I'm saying is that I have changed my mind about the kids and the camera-- 

just in time to be on the wrong side of the policy.

Guru

Every weekday morning for the past five weeks I have risen in the dark and crept silently downstairs to join a live stream Kundalini Yoga class. I always make sure to pull the door behind me so that my chanting will not disturb Heidi. The cats are curious about the computer and cushion and candle; they often prowl around as I mindfully breathe and twist, but Lucy is always still upstairs snoozing with Heidi.

But this afternoon when I joined a different live session online, Lucy was awake and ready to join my practice. My prana was her panting; we executed cat-cow shoulder to shoulder, and savasana with dog resting on leg was even more relaxing than usual. 

Oh we didn't actually get to downward dog, but no worries: Lucy is always in the present moment, and it didn't bother her at all.

Sat nam.

The Now

This moment I am in my chair looking at the fire, dinner in the oven, a glass of beer on the table beside me. Today I practiced yoga, baked bread, read a book, coached Annabelle on ratios, and sketched Bulbasaur for a rock I've been requested to paint. All good.

These days at home have been comfortable and restorative in so many ways, but they sure make it hard to find anything new to write about. 

Royal Pain

Does the queen like The Crown? I googled last evening. Admittedly late to the tea party, we have been watching the popular Netflix series about the English royals for a couple of weeks now, and the first season Queen Elizabeth is so smart and likable and sympathetic that I couldn't imagine the real queen could object. I also wondered what it might be like for a person in their 90s to see the life they led when 20-something recreated in such detail.

My research indicated that the queen did indeed like season one quite a bit, although Prince Phillip would have none of it. Later episodes were not quite so appealing to Elizabeth, and word has it that this past season, the one about Charles and Diana is scorned by the whole family, except, of course, Camilla.

Gentle Reminders

Seasoned teachers know that it frequently happens that a new student will come mid-year and disrupt the whole class dynamic you've been patiently nurturing since September. It makes sense when you think about it-- that kid doesn't have any allegiance to you, and they really want to connect with their peers. Taking on the teacher in even the smallest way is an effective technique to make an impression on everyone. 

So I shouldn't have been surprised at all when, even though we are still virtual, both of the girls who recently joined one of my classes gave me a little bit of a challenge yesterday. 

As I've mentioned before, every class starts with a question of the day, and students are expected to post their answer in the chat. I read their replies out loud and usually engage each student in a very brief conversation which is meant to be a way to build our personal connection before we dive into the lesson. 

The question yesterday, What is an important lesson you have learned in your life? was crafted to serve the dual purpose of conversation and springboard into writing a fiction piece where the main character learns something important. As I read through the replies, I praised the ideas and encouraged the students who hadn't answered yet to do so. 

idk wrote one of the new kids. 

I reminded the class that there were no wrong answers, that everyone has learned lots of lessons, that no example was too small. 

i can't think of anything she posted. 

"No problem," I said. "You can stay on the call once everybody gets started and I'll help you." 

The chat dinged immediately. i thought of something, she wrote. 

"Great!" I replied. "Go ahead and put it in the chat."

its okay not to know something, she typed.

Ouch!

Later as I was giving directions, the other new student was busy in the chat posting greetings to her classmates. I was still explaining when she started writing questions. What do we do? Where do we go? and when I didn't answer immediately, she followed up with a hellooooo?????

I let it slide and explained what she needed to know. Later on, she ran into another problem and again began peppering the chat with questions, finally ending in HELLOOOOZZ???!!!

I replied to her in the chat. The helloooo thing is a bit disrespectful.

Sorry she responded. I needed to know if my messages were getting through!

You can always unmute and say "Excuse me" I reminded her.

Watchful

The sun was an orange smudge blazed low in the eastern sky this morning when I took Lucy for her first out. The air itself seemed to chirrup and trill, and swags of robins festooned the bare branches of every tree, while hundreds more hopped about on the candied snow. 

So many birds! 

They seemed to know they outnumbered us: they barely made way as we walked into the round of them, and all the while they piped a tiny tune. And then in a whoosh and a sharp-winged cloud of rust and gray, they disappeared. 

So strange!

Continuing on I spotted a hawk hunched on the lowest limbs of a locust, its gaze turned intently eastward, where late the robins had been, and I understood.

Our Appointed Rounds

"Well, there goes snow days," we all joked back in August and September when distance teaching was new. And today, as we entered the third semester of doing our jobs remotely, that vaticination came to pass. Fat flakes drifted lazily through the gray day and all along, teachers taught, and students presumably learned. 

It helped that this was actually the 3rd day of winter weather in a row; many of us had already had plenty of time to play outside. To be honest, I didn't mind getting to work this morning: not having to dress for the cold or drive on icy roads made sitting down in my comfortable chair in the warm dining almost appealing. 

But it turns out you really can't please everyone-- a few parents in our district were soon voicing their regret that the kids were missing out on that time-honored tradition of the snow day. 

No Tomorrow

"Can you believe that Tuesday is Groundhog Day?" I asked my sister last night on Zoom.

"Every day is Groundhog Day, man!" she scoffed, and we both sighed because we knew how right she was.

Lately, the weekends have been tougher than the work week for me: more often than not I find myself sitting in my chair trying to think of something fun and engaging to do that I haven't already done 25 times since we've been staying at home. 

This evening I heard a piece on the radio about what we lose when we lose acquaintances, people who aren't close enough to for us to seek out, yet whose company we enjoyed all the same. The loss of those chance encounters with a colleague in another department at a meeting, or someone at the gym, or a favorite waiter or bartender, or another fan in the bleachers at a school sporting event is also a lost opportunity for serendipity and the joy it brings. 

Yesterday a couple of our neighbors texted to see if we had any interest in coming out to play in the snow. As it happened? We had about 25 minutes before we were scheduled for that Zoom call. So we pulled on some layers, leashed up Lucy and headed out to the big hill in our complex. There 8-year-old Elijah and I climbed to the top and slid down on our bottoms at least 10 times; no sled needed to enjoy the snow slide created by the icy conditions.

It was completely unplanned and by far the most fun I have had in weeks, if not months.