Curveball

Today's common text was Litany by Billy Collins, a hilarious poem that lives up to its name in metaphors. After we read it, I asked the students to choose their favorite to share with the class. Then? They had to fit that particular metaphor into the next draft of one of their own free verse poems.

Sure, some of their attempts were the waft of the bat and the tiny cloud of dust from the catcher's mitt,

(and the rules of the game were that they could cut it from their next draft if it wasn't working for them),

but some were the towering fly that the outfielder lost in the sun,

and others were definitely the cork in the bat.

Baby, You're a Firework

We're working on figurative language in my class these days, and the notion that something can mean two (or more!) things at once is right on that imaginary line that divides the abstract from the concrete thinkers. I know it's tough, and so I am patient, providing as many different ways for them to explore this concept as I can. Ultimately, the objective is that they will be able to identify, explain, an use these writing tools. Maybe even use them as effectively as, say, Katy Perry does in her song, Firework, which we read, listened to, and annotated today.

Perhaps it was their familiarity with the text, or their enthusiasm for listening to pop music in school, or both, but almost every student was able to see how a plastic bag drifting in the wind might feel empty and useless, not to mention how a house of cards could feel weak and vulnerable.

A+ for you, Miss Perry.

Just Another Day at the Office

"Do I have something on my head?" a student asked the other morning.

"Besides your hair?" I joked. "I don't see anything."

"Look," he insisted, turning around and pointing to the back of his closely shorn head. I saw what he meant. There was a swoosh of green marker a little below and to the left of his ear.

"How did that get there?" I wondered out loud.

He spat the name of another student like a curse and added that she had done it on their way out of their homeroom.

I promised to speak to her about the incident and asked if he wanted to go to the bathroom and wash it off.

"Can't you just get it off?" he pleaded. "I can't even see it!"

I'm sure my brow furrowed, but I looked around the room and then grabbed some hand sanitizer. With a little squirt and a quick rub, the offending mark disappeared. Just then, the bell rang, and the student went off to his seat to record his homework as I started the class.

I Beg Your Pardon?

This morning, as my homeroom students were organizing their binders to prepare for the day and the week ahead, I overheard one of them use what sounded like inappropriate language. "What did you say?" I asked him sternly from across the room where I was assisting someone else.

He repeated himself with no remorse what so ever. I was confused, and certain that I must have heard him wrong, so I stepped over there and asked him again. "What did you say?"

He said it again, and then I said it. "Did you say 'Oh shit'?" I asked.

"Yeah," he told me, still with no sign of distress.

Of course our conversation had drawn the attention of everyone in the room, and there were several stares and a few giggles. It took me a minute, but I finally considered that this student, a second language learner who has only been in the country a little over a year, might not understand what he was saying.

"Do you know what that means?" I asked him, watching closely for any indication that his response might be dishonest.

"No," he answered, finally with some alarm, and I believed him.

"Well," I told the class, "I guess this is a good example of why we should make sure we know what we're saying."

There were nods of agreement as they turned back to their binders.

Great Idea, Mar

The other day I was gathering the materials to make corn husk dolls with my students. The information that the husks were available in most area supermarkets was met with skepticism from several colleagues, until I explained that they were in the Latin food section, because you need them for tamales. "Are you going to make tamales, too?" my friend Mary asked.

"No," I answered in a tone of voice that clearly expressed the absurdity of the idea, but even as I was verbally dismissing the concept out of hand, the wheels of my cooking brain were turning. "Maybe," I amended my reply almost immediately, and before Mary could say a word, I said, "Yes! I am going to make tamales! Vegan tamales!"

So, even though I have never made tamales before, that is what we are having for dinner tonight, and it was a lot of fun to adapt the recipe, too.

Thanks, Mary!

With the Benefit of Time

We saw the re-make of Footloose today. You might think a generation later, we would identify with the older generation.

Nope. That no dancing law is still totally bogus.

By the Seat of My Pants

Today our team was supposed to go on a field trip to a corn maze, but our plans were dashed at the eleventh hour when the farmers called and said the place was flooded. They had been up since 1 AM digging trenches to drain the labyrinth in time for 130 sixth graders to attempt to navigate, but at 8:45 Am, they knew it was, literally, a wash and called the school. The young teacher who had coordinated the trip appeared at my door white-faced. I excused myself from the group of kids industriously making corn husk dolls in my room and stepped into the hallway to receive the bad news. What could we do? It was back to a normal schedule for the disappointed students and some serious improvisation for their teachers.

I chose Jeopardy as my fall-back activity, and it went pretty well. Here are the categories and questions if you want to play along at home:

Parts of Speech
100 a person, place, or thing
200 an action
300 a word that describes a noun
400 a word that modifies a verb or and adjective
500 a word that tells the relationship between nouns-- like over, under, between, in, or on.

Series and Authors:
100 Harry Potter
200 Percy Jackson
300 Diary of a Wimpy Kid
400 The Hunger Games
500 Twilight

TJ Teams:
100 the other sixth grade team
200 the 7th grade team named for a sea mammal
300 this team is named for a flightless bird
400 the only team named for a reptile
500 this team shares a name with our national bird

Pixar Movies:
100 Woody and Buzz
200 Marlin and Dory
300 Dash and Violet
400 Sully and Mike
500 Remy and Linguine

Writers Toolbox:
100 details that tell how something looks, tastes, smells, sounds, and/or feels
200 a comparison between two unlike things using the words "like" or "as"
300 a comparison between two unlike things that does not use the words "like" or "as"
400 a figure of speech which gives human qualities to inanimate, or non-living things
500 Nouns that refer to specific objects, not abstract or general things

State Capitals:
100 Richmond
200 Annapolis
300 Austin
400 Sacramento
500 Juneau

It was lots of fun, and I was surprised when in each class, some students predicted the answer and wrote it down before I asked the question, based on their knowledge of the category, and, I can only assume, their knowledge of me. Often, they were correct.

Sic Semper Tyrranis

Sickening footage today of the death of a horrible man-- Libya is at last free of its ruthless dictator of 43 years. There is evil in the world, yes there is, but I have to say that I believe that humans compound violence when they address it in turn. I will never be in the same league with Gandhi or Dr. King, but I am on the same page.

Con-cussed

I met with a parent today about a head injury her son sustained playing soccer a couple of weekends ago. Athletes with concussions have been prevalent in the news lately, but this is the first case I've had personal experience with. Coincidentally, we also saw a brief informational video on the same topic today at our monthly staff meeting.

Concussions can impact behavior, critical thinking, and learning in a variety of ways. Depending on their severity, and there is no way to definitively tell just how severe they are, their symptoms can last for months or even years. Like so many other invisible conditions, it's hard to know how best to treat someone with such a diagnosis-- the danger is in believing they could do better if only they would.

Tattle Tale

Any teacher will tell you so: the adults in the building are usually more difficult than the students. Case in point? Each teacher on the team is supposed to sign up to supervise eleven after-school study halls. I have written before about our brilliantly fair method, and yet... the lynchpin to the entire scheme has proven to be unstable. One certain person who, it must be said, doesn't want to do her share, is holding up the list. It is halfway finished and she has had it for six weeks. Six weeks!

At first, I tried to reassure the restless members of our group that it didn't really matter; we were scheduled until November. "Why do we care?" I asked them.

"I'm registering for graduate classes," one answered.

"I need to set up doctor appointments," said another.

"I have to arrange child care," explained a third.

All of us have busy lives and full schedules, and there comes a point when

we. need. to. know.

I empathize with every one! This person in question has professional issues with the arrangement, personal issues with the timing, other school commitments, she is young, what have you, but I have emailed, spoken to her personally, sent emissaries, and emailed some more without result.

Yep. It's time to tell on her.

Not So Sunny Day

I haven't mentioned Tolerance Club in a while-- October is National Bullying Awareness Month, and so that fits in with our mission quite well. Today we showed the kids a Sesame Street clip where Big Bird gets an invitation to join the "Good Bird Club" and is all excited until the mean pigeon, blue jay and robin reject him, at first because his feet are too big.

We had a little technical difficulty streaming the video on our WiFi network, and so to fill the time while it loaded, I asked the kids to guess what might happen. "He's going to try and change his feet," one confidently predicted.

"And that won't be enough for those birds," another added. "They're going to make him keep on changing."

I was super-impressed by their accuracy. "Have you guys seen this before?" I asked.

"No!" they answered (and they totally would have said "duh," if they didn't just know it was rude). "That's what always happens with bullies."

Window Seat

I practically grew up on a plane-- my dad worked for TWA and my parents took full advantage of the travel benefits. When we were kids, my brother, sister, and I used to fight for the window seat, but now I'm lucky that Heidi just lets me have it, partially because she likes me, and partially because she hates to fly, and the window freaks her out a little. On the rare occasions that I travel alone, I always select the window seat, too; I don't care about the delay in disembarking; I'm all about the view.

My favorite part of the flight is the takeoff-- I love how it feels as the plane gathers speed down the runway, the g-force pushing you back in your seat, then that gentle tip and a little rocking and all of a sudden you're airborne. After that, my nose is pretty much pressed against the window, as long as there's something to see. My brother and I recently had a disagreement about how easy it is or isn't to tell where you are on a cross-country flight. He flies a lot more than I do, but it's hard for me to let go of the illusion that I am a human atlas.

Today I flew home from Minnesota, where my mom lives. There were two legs to my journey; I changed planes in Chicago. From the air, the city of Chicago reminds me of the Emerald City: so often it rises majestically from the prairie mist with the sunlight gleaming off of Lake Michigan behind it. Then, as our plane climbed to its cruising altitude, I happened to be listening to a song with some orchestral arrangement and the strings swelled at the very same moment we broke through the clouds and into the clear blue sky. I gasped at the dizzying grandeur of the moment and wondered why on earth anyone would ever choose an aisle seat.

Hopeless

A couple of summers ago we came out here to Minnesota to visit my mom and to take a trip "up north" to the source of the Mississippi River and the Boundary Waters. While we there, we visited a bear preserve in Ely, and I was captivated by the story of Lily, the wild bear that the center's researchers were tracking by radio collar. They had been able to place video cameras in her den, as well, and so they had a pretty thorough biography of this young black bear. They even had footage of her giving birth to two cubs, the subsequent death of one a couple of months later from illness, and the growth of her remaining cub, which they named Hope.

They actually have a fan page on Facebook, which I joined, but the supporters of Lily and Hope are so enthusiastic that I eventually turned notifications off for the group. Even so, I would check in every few months, and so I knew that the two had become separated when Hope was barely one, that they were reunited a while later, that in the spring Lily bore another cub, named Faith by researchers, and that the three were living together as a not uncommon bear family unit.

On the radio this morning I heard a piece about bear hunting. Today is the last day of the season up here and bear-bagging is down this year about 25% to 2,000. Hunters only killed one radio-collared bear, too, compared to eight last year. (It is not illegal, but highly discouraged to shoot collared bears in Minnesota.) But there was another research bear casualty. The yearling, Hope, slipped her radio collar and was killed by a hunter about a month ago.

Consider the Audience

I have been away from school this week, but technology has allowed me to be connected and even functional in my absence. In addition to being up-to-date on school correspondence, I have answered logistical questions from team mates, given my input on student concerns, and exchanged emails with a parent.

Something I could not do remotely was to help score the student writing samples. Today was the time we set aside for the whole staff to do that. Because my team was down a few members, I really felt supported when I read the email this morning saying that both the principal and the director of guidance were filling in to get the job done in my absence.

Later on, I thought about all the writing pieces the group was reading. In sixth grade the prompt for this assignment is 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.

Lots of kids always ask me when they see the assignment if the principal is really going to see their letters, and I always tell them that they are welcome to send them to her if they'd like. I giggled a little when I thought of her reading letter after letter addressed to her today, and I wondered if any of them had hit their mark.

Process Versus Product

Despite my indictment of daytime TV yesterday,(I'm sorry TV!) this morning I did see something that I had to try right away. A lovely young Asian woman with a charming British accent was demonstrating a couple of her dim sum recipes. It was not so much the ingredients as the technique that captured my attention-- she showed how to push the center of a won ton wrapper down into the circle you can make with your thumb and index finger to form a little well for the filling. Next you just gather the corners and press them together at the neck for a perfect little dumpling purse. 8-10 minutes in the steamer, and you will be dining on dim sum as good as any restaurant might serve.

There is something so exquisite about knowing the best way to do a job, that although my dumplings were delicious (if I do say so myself), and my mom really liked them, too, making them just might have been the most satisfying part.

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?