Slick Packaging

I do not often have the occasion to watch daytime TV, but today was an exception. Wow! There is a lot of advice out there. Everybody wants to give you information on what is best for you, and it is all presented in very bright, attractive packages, so stimulating that the time just flies from segment to segment, commercial to commercial.

But look-- I don't have anything else to say about it.

Not So Fast

I'm out visiting my mom, and a couple of her friends, whom I've never met, offered to pick me up from the airport. "They'll have a sign with your name on it," my mother told me, and I pictured any number of arrivals that I have witnessed over the years, both in person and in movies and on TV.

Modern convenience and technology foiled our plan, though; it turned out that they would be waiting for me in the mobile phone lot, and so all I needed to do was give them a call once I'd collected my bag. As I left the secured passenger area and followed the signs toward the baggage claim, I was actually thinking nostalgically about how the pragmatic tradition of greeting an unknown passenger with a sign would soon become anachronism. Just then, I spotted one lone gentleman scanning the crowd as we spilled off the escalator. He was holding something in his hands and as I drew nearer I could see what it was: an iPad with a name and itinerary displayed.

Outside on the curb, I waited for my own ride, and it wasn't long before my mom's friends pulled up, cardboard sign and all.

Challenged and Engaged

One of the strategic goals of our school system is ensuring that all students are challenged and engaged. I like it. I believe that all humans deserve such conditions in whatever work they choose; nothing is drudgery when we value the task.

Fried Green Tomatoes

It's the end of the season for our garden, although the nightshades and okra did not receive the memo. We went to dig our sweet potatoes and do some cleaning up today, and in addition to the potatoes, we came home with several pounds of eggplant, a few ripe tomatoes, a quart of okra, and a whole bunch of green tomatoes. Who could fail to appreciate such unexpected bounty?

Threefer

I have never claimed to be perfect... well, at least not since I turned thirty. What I do claim is that I do my best in the majority (can I just say the vast majority? I'll feel better) of situations, but since I am an adult living in the world today, that can be challenging. Fortunately for me, I have back up.

Today I had breakfast with one of my favorite friends. She's going through a bit of a rough spell common to people of our age-- she's not very satisfied at her job, her father-in-law recently died, and they lost their dog not too long ago. In addition to all of that, one of her two sisters is suing the others for mismanaging their parents' finances. The three siblings are embroiled in a nasty court case at the same time they are trying to provide the best care for their 85-year-old mother.

Tonight I spoke to both my brother and sister. We lost our dad almost 25 years ago, but we are lucky that our mom has been a big part of our lives. Our family is spread from Washington, DC, Charlottesville, Minneapolis, and Atlanta. It's a long way (too long if you ask me), but we make it work because we work together and we wouldn't have it any other way.

By ourselves, we are definitely not perfect, but together? It's so much closer.

Lost and Found

I keep a classroom library of roughly a thousand volumes and every year it operates at a loss of books and money out of my own pocket. Over the years, I've tried various borrowing procedures, but the truth is, I want books in the hands of my students, especially the more reluctant readers, and I don't really have a lot of class time to devote to administering a tight lending system, and so I don't. I implore students not to take my books without signing them out, but somehow many, many go missing, and nobody knows where they could possibly be.

Or do they? Every now and then, a book will mysteriously turn up in my school mailbox, and I am always grateful. On the second day of school this year, a student returned a book that her brother, now a senior in high school, borrowed six years ago. I thanked her, profusely.

And so it goes. As a result, in addition to buying the latest popular books, I also try to resupply my collection on the cheap, and that's what I was doing today at our school's annual book swap, when several of the titles started to look kind of familiar. "Some of these are probably mine!" I said, only half joking, to my friend Ellen. Less than a minute later she laughed out loud and handed me a book. Sure enough-- on the inside front cover was my name.

Surprised By Loss

How sorry was I when I heard about Steve Jobs death last night? Completely, unexpectedly sad-- and all the media coverage today of his life and legacy, along with his relatively young age, and the fact that I am unashamedly a "mac person" (I bought my first Apple computer the minute I could almost afford it), just made me feel worse.

It was kind of nice to know of someone in the world we could count on for perfectionism in both design and function.

Which Child Left Behind?

We had dinner tonight with a teacher friend from another middle school, and the subject of high-stakes testing inevitably came up. Despite the affluence of our district, none of the five middle schools made AYP last year. When you drill down the data, particularly for the subgroups, you can come to some startling conclusions. For example, our friend's principal told their staff that if one more African American boy had passed the math test, they would have made it. Of course, there were other kids who failed, but the way the results are disaggregated and the data is delivered, their success becomes less important to the school, which is the exact opposite of the intention of the law.

As Clear as Mud

In case you haven't heard enough about the new technology upgrades and other changes in our school system this year, indulge me a little more. The report cards that we send home have never been very informative beyond the obvious letter grade and limited teacher comments: O for Outstanding, S for Satisfactory, and N for Needs Improvement, in six areas-- Responsibility, Participation, Following Directions, Initiative and Effort, Work and Study Skills, and Homework.

This year, we have revised our grading scale to differentiate between a B and a B+, a C and a C+, and a D and a D+. There are neither minuses nor an A+, because one is negative and the other is unnecessary-- according to our top students, an A is an A is an A.

In addition, the old O, S, N scale has been replaced by the ostensibly more flexible Exceeds, Meets, Approaches Expectations or Needs Improvement. But those are not noted on the report card by letters. Rather there are symbols beside the letter grade and beneath the already somewhat inscrutable column headings of RS, PT, FD, IE, WS, and HW. So a student's report card may appear like so:

                               RS   PT   FD  IE  WS HW

English               A     #    X    #   X    #    #
Science              C+     ^    ^    #     #   #   N
Math                  B     #    #   #    #    ^   X
Reading             B+    #    #    #   #   #    #
Am History        C    ^    ^    ^   #   #    N
Band                 A    X   X   X   X   X   X
PE                     B    #   #   #    #    #    #

Today in order to prepare my sixth graders for their student-led conferences, I gave them printouts of their current grades, the first they've ever received in middle school. "What is this!???" one child exclaimed in extreme confusion, but in an instant his face calmed as he answered his own question. "Oh! It must be some kind of teacher-language."

By the Numbers

Glancing at the time a little while ago, I was reminded of the many cool new things in the world when I was a kid in the early 70's, and how two of them intersected for us, children of an airline family: the ultra-modern wide-body Boeing planes and the amazing digital clock. Back then, the clocks didn't even have any kind of crystal display, they were literally just tiny mechanical shingles that dropped every minute, ten minutes, and hour, but it sure was exciting when that display read 7:47.

Sunshower

Early this morning when I took the dog out, the first things I noticed were the fresh cool breeze, the sunshine, and the bright blue sky, a perfect autumn day. As we walked a little, though, an invisible spray misted my face, and looking up, the tiniest of raindrops filled my view, although there was literally not a cloud in sight. Then when I turned the corner, a full arc rainbow spread across the sky in front of me, and after that, nothing could have spoiled my day.

Win Some, Lose Some

Once upon a time I used to be pretty handy around the house, but it's been so much easier over the last few years to hire a pro who will shop, repair/install/paint/whatever, and then clean up, that I've gotten out of the habit.

Even so, on our list of errands for the weekend we had a stop at Home Depot. It was mostly because the fluorescent light in our bathroom was out, and as a result we've spent the week with a lamp and incandescent bulb rigged up above the mirror so we can see to brush our teeth at night and make ourselves presentable in the morning. Since we were going there anyway, I added a new doorbell ringer to the list, because the plastic button on ours was broken away. It still worked, but it looked awfully dangerous, not to mention tacky, and there has definitely been a lot more knocking at our door lately.

Arriving at home I jumped into action, eager to use the new stuff and beginning with the simplest task. And now here's where you can ask how many [fill in the blank: teachers, bloggers, blonds, some other word of your choice] does it take to change a light bulb, because the answer would have to be more than one today. Try as I might, I could not get that fixture to work.

Only slightly discouraged (and resolved to call the handyman to come fix that) I turned to my next project. It was touch and go, or should I say "touch and ring" for a bit, mostly because I didn't choose the right tools and the battery on my drill is dead from lack of use, and also because I kept accidentally completing the circuit on the doorbell as I worked, sending the dog into all sorts of barking paroxysms. Eventually I was successful, and now not only is the button not broken, but it, unlike the bathroom upstairs, is illuminated.

Third Annual RSVP

As we do each year, I gave the students a writing prompt today to get a baseline of their writing skills. Their pieces will be scored holistically by the whole staff using the state rubric. We'll give them another prompt in early June to measure their progress for the year.

The topic today was the same as the last two years:

Your principal wants to invite a celebrity speaker to your school. Think about the celebrity you would choose to speak; then write a letter to persuade your principal to invite this person. Be sure to include convincing reasons and details to support your choice.

It's always fascinating to see who the kids want to invite. This year it was a runaway three-way tie for most wanted:

President Obama
Michelle Obama
Selena Gomez

A couple of other folks had more than one or two votes, also:

Lionel Messi
Taylor Swift
Nikki Minaj
JK Rowling

And here are the rest, in no particular order:

Rupert Grint
Lady Gaga
Bridget Mendler
Neil Armstrong
A member of Seal Team Six
Michael Jordan
Barbara Park
Suzanne Collins
Wendy Mass
Jeff Kinney
Lisa Leslie
Ali Zafar
Demi Lovato
Adele
Troy Aikman
John Cena
Victoria Justice
Oprah
Stephen Strasburg
DJ Pauly D
Wiz Khalifa
Justin Bieber
Jeff Dunham
Ringo Starr
A dolphin trainer for the movies
Diego Forlan
Bruno Mars
Morgan Freeman
Stephen Curry
The Washington Nationals
Barcelona Soccer
The cast of The Vampire Diaries
Kobe Bryant
Philip Pullman
Jane Goodall
Ziggy Marley
Johnny Depp
Tim Hightower
Santana Moss
Chase Utley
Kevin Durant
Janet Jackson
The KoolAid Guy
Rick Riordan
Matthew Gray Gubler
AC/DC
Big Time Rush

Larceny, Petty and Grand

I had my writing group tonight, such an agreeable island in the roiling weeks that have marked the beginning of the school year. In order to prepare for our meeting, though, I had to find time to plan and cook a meal, not to mention, to write. I needed something fast and good for both tasks, so here is what I did:

I started by using one of my sister-in-law's recipes, (CORRECTION: one of my sister's recipes), roasting chicken thighs, shredding the meat, and tossing it with pasta and pine nuts. I also lifted some lovely imagery and a pretty intense and emotional relationship from the first stanza of the poem Like Riding a Bicycle by George Bilgere and worked it into a couple of paragraphs of fiction.

Original? No. Successful? I think so, and it was a fun evening.

Building Relationships Through Mayhem

When I prepare to present a common text to my sixth graders, I always look for that one little thread that if pulled gently might unravel just enough so I can wrap it around the kids and then tug them in closer, closer, until they are making all sorts of personal connections to the writing we're looking at.

Today we read the poem Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon, which is an annual event, but what I've finally realized is that there is one image in that poem that unlocks the students' lives more than any other:

I am... From the finger my grandfather lost/ to the auger

We begin our analysis of the poem with words that are unfamiliar to them, and someone in every class always brings up "auger". As they start to understand what a gruesome event she is describing, the kids often physically cringe, but when I explain that this is an example of one of those stories of misfortune that every family has, suddenly we are all wrapped in a web of mishap and almost everyone wants a chance to share their tales of injury and near miss. At the end of the discussion, not only do they like the poem, but we all feel much closer, too.

Held After Class

Tonight was Back-to-School-Night which I'm pretty sure is dreaded by all educators. For myself, I have to give the same overview five times in a row, and try as I might, I cannot come up with a way to make it anything more than ten minutes of rushed talking. I think I sound competent, though, after all these years, but sometimes I wish it were more of a conversation than a presentation.

But I must be careful what I wish for. Long after the last class was dismissed for the night, I found myself in conversation with a very enthusiastic parent. Clearly impressed by some part of my talk, he chatted on about his own reading and his own writing in what might have been a pleasant enough exchange were it not for the hour and the purpose of the event.

Gotta Get Down on Monday

5am, waking up in the morning
Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs
Gotta have my coffee, gotta pack my lunch.
Hearin’ NPR, the time is goin’
Tickin’ on and on, time rushin’
Gotta walk the dog,
Gotta get out to my car, Gotta drive to school,

Yawnin’ in the front seat
books are in the back seat
Gotta make my mind up
Which way should I go today?

It’s Monday, Monday
Who isn't down on Monday?
Everybody’s dreading the new week, the new week
Monday, Monday
Gettin’ down on Monday
Everybody’s dreading the new week.

Plannin class’, Plannin’ class (Yeah)
Gradin' work’, Gradin' work’ (Yeah)
Work, work, work, work
Dreadin' the week

(YouTube Video sensation to follow)

Instant Grat

I must have written before about how I like to read the NY Times (or any other) Book Review with lap top or iPad at the ready, able to put any book of interest on instant hold at the public library. Well, such convenience has reached new heights with my Kindle App. Now I'm able to instantly download a preview of almost any book. (I know, right?)

The problem? It takes a little self-discipline not to go ahead and just buy the good ones, instead of doing what I should, and putting them on my library list. In fact, I don't think I've resisted once.

Check out We the Animals by Justin Torres. Beautiful and disturbing, I read it in one sitting.

Greetings, Earthlings

We have a lot of family birthdays coming up, and so we spent a good chunk of time card-shopping today. Overall, it was a little frustrating: that perfect card seemed elusive for all four, although in the end, I liked what we chose.

The notion of greeting cards is an odd one, though. What are we looking for when we set out to purchase what is essentially an over-priced piece of printed cardboard? Is it simply a concrete symbol, proof of the fact that we value the person and the occasion? Or is there more to it, perhaps some outside validation of our thoughts and feelings?

If anything, the internet will be the death of the greeting card. Never mind the thousands of e-cards available at the click of a mouse, but the world wide web can "validate" almost any experience you might have. Just google your problem, your symptoms, or even a phrase describing what you did today, and you will find hundreds, if not thousands of fellow humans who describe something eerily similar.

We are definitely not alone, but we're not very special either, are we?

Please, Sir, I Want Some More

There's something about food that brings out a bit of the writer in everyone. As an example, I offer a few observations from the current sixth graders:

If you don't like pizza, you don't have a soul!

My Favorite food is is deep south out of the pot homemade lick the spoon chili.

I like to go to MCdonalds on Sundays with my cousin and play outside with my friends and I ask a lot of questions about things just to make sure.

I love any food, as long as its not veggies or some sticky gooey thing.

I love dogs, if I get a Mexican dog I will name it Taco, because I love tacos too.

And finally...

Have you ever been to the krispy kreme factory-store? It is really awesome- you can see the donuts going through the glazing fountain and stuff like that. I'll post something in creative writing about the factory....

The Trials of Donut-dom

I wiggled. I tried to get myself out of this uncomfortable rounded shape. I felt as if I had a hole in me, but, looking back, I realized I actually did. Me and the other lumps of dough rode on a black Ferris-Wheel-like thing, all the time coming closer and closer to a hole. If this wasn't enough embarrassment, humans stared at us as were exposed as pieces of dough.

The Boss of Me

I ran into a neighbor of mine this morning while I was walking the dog. She had her dog, too, and so we continued on home together, making small talk as neighbors do. When she asked about school, I gave her a brief report on some of the frustrations of the first three weeks of the year, and then I returned the question.

This particular neighbor works at the capital, so I ended my inquiry with, "Things must be kind of hopping up there, eh?"

"It sucks," she answered bluntly. "I honestly do not know how so many idiots were ever elected to office." She paused and shrugged. "Maybe they were just trying to get them out of the neighborhood."

Okra Dokey

Today my students and I read the poem Knoxville, Tennessee by Nikki Giovanni. It's a good beginning of the year common text because it has so much sensory detail in it. It is also written in a child's voice, and the entire poem is a single sentence. I always like to challenge any student who is willing to try to read it all in one breath. Sixth graders love that kind of thing. They also enjoy talking about the images that resonate with them, and so today we talked a lot about barbecue, homemade ice cream, and okra, which I've discovered is a bit of a litmus vegetable. Kids from all over the world are familiar with it, but many of their peers, also from all over the world, are not.

Here's the poem:

Knoxville, Tennessee

I always like summer
best
you can eat fresh corn
from daddy's garden
and okra
and greens
and cabbage
and lots of
barbecue
and buttermilk and homemade ice-cream
at the church picnic
and listen to
gospel music
outside
at the church
homecoming
and go to the mountains with
your grandmother
and go barefooted
and be warm
all the time
not only when you go to bed
and sleep.

Superstition

This morning, a black and white cat crossed my path. It flashed across four lanes of traffic barely avoiding my front tires and then disappeared into somebody's backyard. It was close enough that I was trembling a little at the next light so relieved not to have witnessed its injury, let alone caused it myself.

I thought of the time I once saw a friend take a rock and crush the skull of a mortally-injured mouse that her cat had grown bored of and abandoned in the driveway. Certainly, I had seen death with my own eyes, and many have died on my behalf and even at my demand, but I questioned then whether I personally could commit such a violent act of mercy, and I wondered the same thing today.

Next Time, Just Ask

So much has been written about changing the basic parameters of education without consulting teachers and I have neither the time nor the desire to address that issue here and now, but indulge me by considering the following.

Our school system has been undergoing a huge technology upgrade the likes of which I have not seen in the 19 years I've been teaching here. Such an improvement could be so exciting-- personally, I love technology, and who doesn't appreciate making things easier? Since we came back to work at the end of August, though, the promised enhancements have been overshadowed by delays and problems, and most of what I've heard from my colleagues is a variation on the question of Where are the benefits in these changes, again?

Part of the plan is to give every teacher a lap top, configured for school use with limited capabilities outside of our network. They were shooting for convenience, I'm guessing, but think about entering hundreds of grades without a number pad.

See what I mean?

And Just What Was it that Made all the Difference?

As we ran some errands today, the Sunday drivers and general weekend road congestion began to grind on my nerves. Stopped at a light I considered our usual route, and since the thought of the stop and go traffic at a certain point was almost too much to bear, I decided to take another, hopefully less traveled, way. Not so far from home, we remembered another stop we had to make, and my mental GPS was recalculating when Heidi said, "That was a stop sign back there."

"Not for me," I laughed just before the whoop whoop and flashing blue and red pulled behind me.

"I'm sorry I missed that Stop sign back there," I told the cop when he walked up.

"How did that happen?" he asked. I don't think either of us was prepared for the long rambling explanation I provided about the confusing placement of the sign as well as what I was thinking at the time of the infraction, but hey, he asked. He shook his head and took my license and registration back to his cruiser. In a little while he returned with the dreaded clipboard. "I ran your information," he said, "You have five points on your record."

"How did I get those?" I asked. "What did I do?"

"It's five positive points," he told me with raised eyebrows. "That's good. Are you sure you're all right to drive?"

Clearly I am with all those points, I thought, but I actually said, "Yes. I promise I'll be more attentive."

"Then get out of here," he waved his hand, "No ticket today."

Always Leave Them Wanting More

Last week, one of my students posted about the weekly web show he does with his buddy and sister. We broadcast live every Friday night at 8! he wrote and gave the web address. As it happened, I was sitting in front of my computer a little before 8 last night, and so I navigated over to the site. Even before its official start time, the webcam streamed a lot of activity as the three of them prepared for the show, moving bicycles and other stuff out of the way of their set in the garage. As they worked, they chatted and spat at each other, as kids do; this time it was mostly about why someone was so mean, nuclear bombs, and what Mom said they had to do. All of a sudden a huge blurry face appeared in the screen and then disappeared. "Oh my gosh we have two live viewers!" an excited voice announced. "Somebody else is watching!" he said, and then the feed went dead, replaced by a test pattern.

Oh, how we crave that audience, and still we panic when we see them.

Introduce Yourself

This week marked the beginning of Write Here Write Now, the web-based portion of my sixth grade English class, and so once again the end of the day finds me in front of my computer clicking through hundreds of student posts. A friend of mine and I collaborated six years ago to create this secure online community where our students could use writing both formally and informally to communicate with their peers. Now in its sixth iteration, WHWN has been tangibly different every year, inevitably shaped not only by the personality (and size!) of each group students, but also by where the two of us grown-ups happen to be professionally and personally.

One of our main premises has always been to encourage students to write by giving them a place and an audience. The first assignment is for each kid to write at least two paragraphs introducing him or herself to the group. When they finish, they must read and respond to some of the other kids. Then they can post to other topics of their choice, including music, sports, and pets. What I always love about this writing is how surprising and revealing it can be. Reading through their initial posts, I learn an enormous amount about my students both as writers and people.

Let me give you an example; this particular little girl seemed pretty average until I read her intro.

some times when i feel like the world is ending, i will drag my fat cat over to the widow( this is the part were it gets really dramatic) and look and him and i will study how his sea blue eyes are so sea blue and how his long, gray, tail seems to tick to the rhythm of the clock. And when he yawns I check and see how many teeth he still has. 

How extraordinary is that! But, really-- that's the point. Who isn't an incredible individual when they have the opportunity to show it? Lucky for me, it's my job to give kids that chance.

Legacy

Today was the day when my old homeroom kids came back on a quick errand to pick up their IB Binders so that they could transfer them to their new seventh grade digs. It is always a bittersweet day for me: there I am working hard to build relationships with my fresh group of sixth graders when their predecessors come busting in the door, so familiar and with all that awkward newness out of the way. I am always so happy to see them and so sad to see them go.

This time there was a twist on that old story, though. All of last year's kids asked if they could stay for a bit, and of course I was delighted to have them. They sat in the extra chairs, chatted with their former classmates, and even joined in on the activity, helping the younger kids who had taken their places with their pinwheels for peace. For a few minutes my homeroom was a warm blend of the past and the present, and I couldn't have been happier.

When the bell rang, and my double-sized group of students set off into their days, I smiled when I heard a bunch of the sixth graders tell each other that they were coming back next year, too.

Picnic

Every year for the last four or five, the two sixth grade teams at our school have put on a picnic on the first Friday afternoon for our new middle schoolers. This year, the one-two punch of Irene and Lee left our fields a bit soggy, and so the event was re-scheduled until today. The students took a reading test in the morning and then were treated to an hour and a half outside to play and eat hot dogs. The weather was warm and sunny, the grill was hot, the chips were crunchy, and the watermelon was sweet. There were screams of glee from the playground and friendly banter on the soccer field and basketball court. Although the day was not without a misunderstanding or bruised feeling here and there (probably inevitable with 250+ kids) it went off without a hitch and we were cleaned up in under 10 minutes. Not bad for 15 public employees.

Kickball

When I was a kid, I loved everything about the game-- the dusty orange field, the bases scuffed in with the heel of your shoe, even the schoolyard pick of the players. I loved the line of players that formed behind the backstop; in batting order we crept slowly forward until we were nearly at the right baseline. I loved the call of the pitcher, How do you want it? and the response of the kicker, Slow and bouncy! or Fast and smooth. No one ever wanted it fast and bouncy, although such a delivery might have set up a mighty, mighty kick that soared up and over the infield, defying gravity until at last it arced down and to the ground. Then there might be the solid thump of the soft red rubber ball and that little puff of rust-colored dust into your eyes when you caught it in the cradle you made of your arms and then held on tight to keep it from bouncing away, because you knew it was almost impossible to make a play from way out there, although it was kind of fun to sprint forward and fling that ball directly at the runner just hoping to hear the satisfying thwump of the tag and the chorus proclaiming, You're out!

A Little Friendly Advice

Of all the things I've learned as a teacher, there is one that continues to amaze me. People do not listen. Just because words are coming out of your mouth does not mean that they are being registered by a single ear in the room. Small group, large group, one-on-one, whatever-- do not take it personally; do not get frustrated; as ridiculous as it may seem to respond to the most sincere question that you literally just answered, try to remember that your voice is but one stimulus in a world exploding with sensory details, and the difference between focus and distraction is all in the brain of the beholder. Scolding such an inquirer will not ensure increased attention in the future, probably the opposite, so therefore check for understanding as frequently and as patiently as possible, stay on message and repeat as necessary, and whatever you do? Remove the phrase "dumb ass" from your vocabulary.

First Weekend Back

Yep. They still go by really fast.

105 More Shopping Days

Just the other night I had a moment of seasonal passage-- the first commercial of winter. Oh, it was a cozy, animated little production full of warm light and bundled-up kids, and although it did not inspire me to run out and buy tissues for those inevitable cold weather colds (here they come!), it did almost make me want to fix a mug of hot chocolate and enjoy it right there, ignoring the drone of the air conditioner and early September heat and humidity. The fireplace was looking quite welcoming as well.

Thus also began another countdown: How many days until the first Christmas commercial? It can't be long!

I Gotta Hand it to Them

I have a traditional first week of school assignment that I'm rather fond of. I always begin the year by informing the kids that we are going to write every day, but I reassure them that it will never be anything they can't handle. In fact, to prove it, I tell them we are going to start with words, just words, and build our way up from there.

Their task this week is to come up with 30 nouns and/or adjectives that describe them in some way. Oh, I tie in their independent reading right away, too, encouraging them to "steal" specific nouns and adjectives from other writers by looking at how these published authors describe the people in their books.

When the lists are completed, the students trace their hands on a piece of paper and then scribe the words they have chosen along the outline. The last step is to decorate the hand, cut it out, and mount it on construction paper for display.

This simple activity provides enormous insight into their classroom skills and their work habits, and the products end up being a wonderful snapshot of each student-- their hands, their designs, their words.

Just as Able

We have a student with low vision on the team this year, and of course he has several accommodations to make sure that he can see the instructional materials we are using. He needs bigger print and enlarged images, so the vision specialist laid in a supply of 11 x 17 paper to use in the copy machine. That's double the standard size, however, and there's nothing like a ginormous piece of paper to make you stand out in a group, which is the very last thing this student wants to do. For the majority of kids, sixth grade and the transition to middle school is all about fitting in, and developmentally, that is quite appropriate.

Maybe it's my own worsening presbyopia, but last week when I was reviewing the documents that I would need for the first days of school, I made a decision that rather than enlarging the handouts I had, I would reformat them so that he could read them, and then I would use that version for everyone. Not knowing him, it just seemed the safest thing to do to begin with, and it's worked out fine so far. So today, when I mentioned that to the other teachers on the team, they jumped at the idea.

Our social studies teacher told us how he had pushed a larger copy of the map aside, unwilling to use a different worksheet than the other kids. "It's too bad," she said sympathetically, "but I LOVE the bigger maps-- they look so much better, and they're a lot easier to work with."

"Why don't you use the 11 by 17 paper to make big maps for everyone?" someone suggested, and our strategy was sealed.

I feel good about it-- a larger format is certainly not going to hurt anyone, and who knows how many kids a bigger font and a simpler design might benefit?

Cross Your Heart

Another thing I like about having taught in the same school for so long is the number of siblings of former students I get to have in my class. This year is a bumper crop. I have a number of kids whose brothers and sisters are in 7th grade, 8th grade, or high school, and it's fun to use the inside knowledge I remember of their families to build relationships today. A friendly face and a familiar word go a long way when you're a stranger in a strange place.

I think the farthest the family ties go back is to 2001. I have the brother of a student who was actually sitting in my classroom during the attacks on September 11, 2001. Our school is about two miles from the Pentagon, and we all heard the explosions when the plane made impact. Obviously, it's a day I will never forget.

But the kids we have now were infants then. They have no memory of a pre-9-11 world, but nor do they have any memory of that day. To them, the events of that day will be history that they must make sense of in the context of what they hear, what they read, and what they learn.

That day was one of the dividing lines in history. Like President Kennedy's assassination, WW II, the Great Depression, there are events that shape and separate us, sometimes by century, and sometimes by generation, and as a long-time teacher, that well-earned truth, like the events of 9-11, is something that I'll keep with me.

Trending

One thing I always have enjoyed about teaching is finding out what kids like and dislike; I get a kick out of knowing what's in and what's out and what's cool and what's lame. Being in the know with 11- and 12-year-olds may not seem that important, but it can definitely be a revealing lens on our society. Kids that age are forming their opinions based on so many factors: parents, siblings, peers, media, etc., and in some ways they are the canaries in the coal mine when it comes to trends, both superficial and important. Of course, that's one of the reasons why critical thinking is such an important component of education.

But I digress. What I really wanted to report this evening is a surprising movement I detected in today's first-day-of-school-getting-to-know-you conversations. I was shocked, shocked, by the number of kids who hate soccer. They are not merely neutral or disinterested; no, friends, at least 10 students independently reported that they actually detest the game itself.

What this means for our civilization is for others to decide, until then, I will continue reporting from the front lines.

Secret Lives of Students

Don't let them tell you that they dislike school. Here's a little evidence from the summer bloggers:

12 hours until school starts again!!!!!!!! OMG! So happy for tomorrow.

tick tock tick tock I can’t wait to go to school. I can’ wait to go to school. Feels so close and feels so far away.

Anyway we officially have less than 20 hours until school starts!! I’m going to be counting down every second of this whole day. But right now I’m taking pictures and deciding which outfit I should wear tomorrow. 21 HOURS AND 2 MINUTES REMAININGG!! AHAHAHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

And there's plenty more enthusiasm where that came from.

Now, if only I could muster some!

PS Check back with me tomorrow, odds are good I'll be much more optimistic. Transitions are not my strength.

Who's Your Daddy?

Fans of the Dog Whisperer, Cesar Milan, are no doubt familiar with his sidekick, Daddy. A rescued pit bull, Daddy became the lynchpin of Cesar's pack, and because of his even temperament, he often helped show the unbalanced dogs just how it ought it be by modeling the desired behavior and energy.

Heidi and Isabel spent the last couple of days with a dog named Lucky. "She can't do any tricks!" her owners assured them. "She's even afraid to pee in the dark!" They underestimated the power of the pack, however, (and of course, treats). It wasn't long before Lucky was sitting and shaking and downing and upping and yes, even peeing in the dark. That Heidi is pretty darn good with dogs.

"Isabel was a huge help!" Heidi told me when she was recounting the events of the weekend. "You should have seen how she guided Lucky just by doing the right thing."

I nodded. "You know what that makes her, right?"

Queen of the Dolphins

The name of my sixth grade team is the Dolphins. Upon entering my classroom and seeing all the dolphin swag, people often conclude that I am a big fan of those sea mammals , but the truth is, that while I like them fine, they're not really my favorite animals. Still, I've been immersed in things dolphin for the last ten years or so, and I guess a bit of affection for those friendly, intelligent critters has rubbed off on me, not to mention knowledge of them. I know a lot about dolphins. So I was a little taken aback the other night when a student's dad approached me at the open house. "So you're the Dolphin leader," he said. "I was trying to figure out what that might be."

I smiled. "Well, a team leader..." I started helpfully, but he interrupted me.

"Oh,I know what a team leader is," he told me, "but what do they call the leader of a dolphin pod?"

I was stumped. "Good one!" I said. "I'll have to look that up and add it to my resume."

Too bad there is no such title.

My Work May Be Done Here

I spent some time this evening catching up with the summer blog I set up for my former students in June. I've been struggling a bit trying to decide when I should cut it off, if ever. Their interest will naturally evolve to other writing pursuits, and so I wonder if I should just allow that arc to play out over time.

I'll have to change the name of the blog, of course. "Summer Bloggers" won't be accurate for much longer. But what title will? "Tracey's Former Students" sounds a little awkward, although "Dolphins Ten Eleven" is kind of dashing, especially with its fuzzy cinematic allusion and all. (And now I'm imagining George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Julia Roberts in my class.)

Anyway, I'll wrestle with this dilemma a few more days or even weeks. It seems cruel to cut the kids off before they have immersed themselves in their new seventh grade reality. Plus, I'll confess to some personal pleasure at having kept up with these folks over the last few months. It's been nice to know of their vacations, summer camps, triumphs and injuries all.

Just tonight, a guy posted the big news that his parents are expecting a baby in January. That event has rocked the world of their 12-year-old formerly only child, but as consolation they're letting him name the baby. (!) (I try not to judge.) So, he did what many others of his generation might-- he put out a call for suggestions on the blog, and let me tell you friends, he got a lot of replies. Heck, I was tempted to respond myself, and then I thought about it. A child may actually be named as a direct result of one of my class projects.

I think I've done enough.

I Detect a Trend...

I came home from our annual sixth grade open house all ready to write. It was a really positive night-- good energy and great kids had me looking forward to next Tuesday, the first day of school. Beyond that, though, I knew just what I wanted to write about: how the preservice week had been fraught with problems and all the attendant stress and negativity, but how all of that fell away, almost like magic, when the kids arrived. Yeah. I was going to write the heck out of that, but the more I thought on it, there was something about it that seemed almost too true, so I searched the archives and I found what I wrote just fifty weeks ago.

Eerily similar, right?

So that had me thinking. It's such a cliche to say that the stuff that happens outside the classroom is what unnecessarily complicates teaching, but anecdotally? Lookie here. Just because it's a cliche, doesn't mean it's not a valid concern. Perhaps the opposite is even true.

Confirmation

Here's a conversation Heidi had recently with our two-year-old neighbor, Chase:

Chase: I missed you, Heidi!

Heidi: "I missed you, too!"

Chase: "Did you say, I miss Chase?"

Heidi: "Why, yes, yes, I did."

Chase nods, satisfied.

Rules of the Game

I suppose it's a necessary evil, but signing up for things is so often a huge headache; somebody always feels shafted. It is considered the epitome of fairness and free choice, especially in the education world, but no matter the rules of play, people are dissatisfied with the days they have to do hall duty, the hours they get in the computer lab, the month they have to provide snacks, whatever.

First come first serve? Whoever got there first had inside information and whoever was last had an unavoidable conflict. Limit the days? So and so got his friend to sign up for him and that one over there booked the time and never showed! November? That's Thanksgiving! January? It'll probably snow.

What can you do?

Nine or ten years ago, my sister-in-law gave me the European Board Game of the Year (I know, right?) for my birthday. The complexity and critical thinking that Settlers of Catan requires made it perfect to play with my nephews. Before the game starts, players roll a die to see what order to place their two villages on the board. Here, both strategy and luck are involved, because whoever goes first only gets to put one village down, and they will go last in the next round.

Every school year at this time, the teachers on my team have to sign up for eleven hours of after school Homework Club, and taking a page from those hearty settlers of Catan, we do just as they must: half up front and the other half in reverse order. Getting the days you want requires strategy and luck, but nobody complains.

What Else Is There?

Over the summer, our school system implemented several technology upgrades. Such an ambitious project rarely goes online without a few hiccups, and this one was no exception. Last week at our team leaders' meeting we received the following update: The new system is up and running, except for problems with saving, printing, the electronic grade book, and other applications.

Today when the whole staff arrived for our first pre-service day of the week, the message was not much amended, except to add that there is mandatory technology training tomorrow.

Lookin' forward to it.

Until Next Year

Blustery skies gave way early this afternoon to what is easily the prettiest day of the summer, all sunshiny, breezy and blue, and so the question became what to do with this, the final day of our summer vacation. In the end, summer ended as it has passed: a walk with the dog, a bit of reading and writing, a trip to the gym and the grocery, and time spent at the pool with friends. Soon there will be a glass of wine, a nice dinner, maybe a movie on TV, and then it will be time to set the alarm for the first time since June.

Storm's A-Comin

My mom called yesterday to see if we were all set for the hurricane. "Kind of," I said, "in the sense that we're not really doing anything to get ready."

"Not even filling the tub with water?" she asked.

"Nope," I answered. "I don't really see the point. Anyway, the worst that might happen is that we could lose power, and I've already had to dump the fridge twice this year, so I feel ready for that."

My mom got into the spirit right away. "At least your garden will get a lot of water," she said.

Maybe I'm being overly optimistic, but I just don't have a bad feeling about Irene. The last hurricane that had any impact on our area was in late September, 2003. Many people in the county lost power for a week or so, but we didn't. We got a day off from school and took the opportunity to drive to Pennsylvania and pick up our puppy. We named her Isabel, after the storm, and it all worked out pretty well, as anyone who's ever seen Heidi and Isabel together can confirm.

In fact, I wouldn't entirely rule out a puppy Irene.

G-L-O-R-I-A... Gloria!

Twenty six years ago I was in Virginia Beach and bracing for Hurricane Gloria. I was living about three blocks from the ocean with my dad, who was terminally ill, my sister, who was in college, and our two geriatric cats. It fell to me to carry out the recommended preparations for what they were calling the storm of a generation. I bought tape for the windows, batteries for the flashlights and radio, and water to drink. I filled the tub, secured the porch furniture, and when they recommended evacuating our neighborhood, I panicked a little, mostly about the cats.

"What should we do?" I asked my dad.

"You can do what you want," he said, drawing an X on his hurricane tracking grid (they put one in the Sunday supplements every week from June until November), "but I'm not going anywhere."

And so we stayed to literally weather the storm. It was supposed to hit sometime around midnight, but after all the running around I had done, I passed out about 10, after moving my bed away from the windows, of course. I remember waking up once and squinting out the window. The night seemed darker than usual, but when it came into focus, I saw trees bent over almost double and rain pelting horizontally. It looked like a typhoon on Gilligan's Island and I lay back down and went to sleep.

The next morning my dad and my sister told me about the storm-- how they had stayed up and the power had gone out and they had retreated to an inner hallway when it was at its worst. In the end there was no damage and as they went off to bed exhausted by the ordeal, I headed down to the freshly scrubbed beach to see what the storm had left.

Inclement Weather

The day here was grey and rainy, but it was hard to be upset about it; our summer has been pretty hot and dry. Instead of cursing the clouds we did a little light hunkering, curled up reading in the big chair by the window with the rain streaming down and then venturing out between downpours to the movies and to run a few errands in the afternoon. Before we left the house though, I looked up the snow forecast for this winter.

It is promising indeed.

Note to Self: Schedule Introspection ASAP.

We had our annual summer team leaders meeting yesterday. This is where the leadership cadre of our school devotes several hours the week before everyone else comes back to getting up to speed on what's developed since classes ended in June as well as laying the groundwork for the year to come.

I've had the privilege of being included in this group since 1999, so what does it say that I was most engaged when it came to the discussion of our new building security system? Sure it involves card swiping and new keys for everyone, but it seems like the other stuff on the agenda should have grabbed my attention, too.

The earthquake was cool, though.