Happy Returns

It's that day of year when Heidi and I mark an anniversary... fourteen years have come and gone since we joined forces to face the world together. To celebrate, we return to a favorite old movie, The Godfather, along with a simple meal of pasta and sauce, spinach and mushrooms on the side.

And despite Don Corleone's admonition to Sonny to Never tell anyone outside the family what you're thinking, I'll continue.

"What's the first line of the movie, again?" I asked a few minutes ago in anticipation of our big night. "Is it Vito, or is it that guy, what's his name? Buonanotte?"

"Who?" Heidi asked.

"Oh never mind, I'll Google it," I said.

I believe in America. America has made my fortune.

And the speaker? Amerigo Bonasera. (I never knew his first name before, but it really adds to the movie, right?)

I was actually kind of tickled at my error. In Italian, buona notte means good night, and buona sera means good evening. Only someone with some knowledge of the language could make such a mistake.

I learned a little Italian thirty-five years ago when I was in boarding school in Lugano, not in any class, but simply by the necessity of living there.

It pleases me when it comes back.

This is Why We Do It

"This is the best club in the whole school!" one student exclaimed this afternoon before Writing Club had even officially began. Maybe it was the kettle corn or maybe it was the ten other kids who showed up after school to write, but whatever it was was infectious.

"Yeah it is!" her friend agreed.

A little while later, after we had introduced NaNoWriMo and pledged our support should they choose to accept the challenge, that same student was breathless. "I've always wanted to do something like this my whole life, and now I can!" she cried.

Now she can.

It Wasn't about the Mushrooms

At 5:30 this afternoon I found myself fighting traffic to drive across town to a favorite grocery store. I've been putting off my shopping there because of time and travel, but today I needed coffee and so I shut down my computer at school a little earlier than otherwise and headed out.

It was a beautiful day here: unseasonably warm (1 degree from the record!) but clear and dry. The fall foliage is not quite peaking, but it is stunning even so. Many of my fellow citizens were out and about with me, and I found myself waiting. Waiting at lights, waiting for pedestrians, waiting for a parking space. I let it go but exhaled in relief when I finally cut the engine and reached around to gather my phone, my keys, and my wallet.

My wallet? Where's my wallet? Despite the fact that I am very conscientious about always carrying it with me, I knew it could be anywhere-- at home on the table or by the computer, in a jacket pocket, or even on the floor by my desk at school-- that's how scattered I am lately.

My pocket contained my list and my cash. A quick comparison was not promising, so I raided my emergency car fund and all together I ended up with 56 bucks. I grabbed my reusable bag (5 cents credit!) and headed into the store.

The automatic doors sighed behind me as I entered the produce department. It was only moments before I realized that A) I had dropped my list, but B) I had a good idea what I needed.

From there, shopping became like a little puzzle. I mentally calculated the cost of what I wanted and subtracted it from my holdings. Approaching the check out line, I knew it was going to be close, but I had no desire to play it safe.

It just so happened that the shortest wait was at the register of a cashier who has worked at the store almost as long as I have been shopping there. We always chat cordially whenever we meet, and this time was no exception, even though I was a bit distracted watching the screen carefully as she scanned each item.

With three items left to go, I could tell I was going to be over, so I grabbed a package of mushrooms and set them aside. The total was $55.60. The cashier's eyes widened a bit when I handed her a stack of ones and fives, but then she laughed. "I like this," she told me. "It's good for my drawer."

I laughed, too, and proud of my shopping chops, I told her that I had forgotten my wallet. "I think I did pretty good," I said as she deposited a quarter, a nickel, and a dime in my hand.

She smiled and handed me my bag. Spotting the mushrooms, she asked, "Is that why you put these back?"

I shrugged. "Yep."

"Here," she said, "take them. No problem. I'll take care of it."

And that act of kindness made my day.

The Price of Policy

So far it's been a tough year at school: our meeting time (team, grade level, departmental, staff) has increased, as have the documentation requirements for all such meetings. There is a new class to teach, a new sixth grade configuration, a new principal, a new teacher evaluation process, a new test of standards for my curricular area, and a new state accountability process. Our enrollment has increased by over 20% and our classrooms are encumbered if we should want to work beyond our contract day.

The professionals in my building are frustrated, not because our formerly cushy jobs have suddenly entered the "real world," but rather because all of those things breed anxiety and take time, which is time away from planning and grading and from sponsoring after school activities-- there are only so many hours in the day.

My students this year are delightful-- smart, inquisitive, and conscientious, and I would love to devote more time and attention to them, but I can't. Because I have to jump through hoops to verify that I am meeting their minimum needs, I don't have the time to push them as far as they can go.

How Far Have We Come Again?

Today in Tolerance Club, we did an activity that we've had success with every year. Called In and Out, the concept is simple: everyone in the group forms a large circle, and then someone reads a series of statements. If you feel like it it describes you, then you step in, otherwise you stay out. (It's kind of like the Hokey Pokey with an agenda.)

The activity is designed to spotlight our uniqueness by highlighting our commonalities and differences, and the kids love it. As we hear statements like, I speak more than one language fluently, I consider myself a musician, I like to read for fun, I have a friend or relative with a disability, the perimeter undulates like a living cell under a microscope, and people laugh in delight, recognition, or even embarrassment at their admissions and the attendant associations.

It's always a bonding experience and it's always eye-opening, too. Today my personal wake-up call came when we heard, I have been told I couldn't do something because of my gender, and the only ones inside the circle were girls.

A Wonderful Child

Despite all that sabbath day stuff, Sunday is the step-child of the weekend-- delightful to be sure, but always a little less so because you just can't miss that glimpse of Monday in Sunday's smiling face.

Even so, who could fail to love a day where there was sleeping in and hot coffee, reading and writing, working and shopping, harvesting and cooking?

Today I love Sunday sooooo much?

I wish I had a couple more days just like it.

Film Buff's Dilemma

"Question!" a colleague approached me the other day. "Have you seen The Master, yet?"

I told her it was on my list, because of the critical buzz, but I hadn't seen it.

"Darn," she literally stamped her foot. "I need someone to talk to about it, and I was hoping it might be you."

I laughed and shrugged. "I'll definitely let you know."

Did her comments influence me when choosing a movie for today? I'm sure they did, and this afternoon as I sat, baffled, I knew just why she wanted to talk. Critics suggest that seeing it more than once will definitely help clarify the film, but while Joaquin Phoenix's performance is breathtaking (Early prediction? Oscar.), it would be a tough movie for me to sit through twice.

Fortunately, I know just who to talk to.

Stepford Homeroom

Today was student-parent-conference day, and for me it was markedly different than those in the past.

At our school, we conduct student-led conferences where the homeroom teacher is a facilitator. Because those groups are not only heterogeneous but also random, that means that in some cases the conference is being overseen by a teacher who might not have the student in class.

Therefore, in order to support the students, we prepare them and ourselves in advance. Not only do we make classroom teacher assessments, student self-assessments, and current grades available to students and teachers in the days leading up to the conference, but we designate teacher meeting and planning time to review that data and to clarify any questions we might have.

That's what we were doing just a couple of days ago. The teachers on the team were flagging students of concern to be sure that their parents were aware. As the meeting progressed, I realized that not a single one of my homeroom kids had been mentioned. "There must have been a mistake,"  I joked with the guy who had a whole page of notes, "I think you got my students."

The Wisdom of Crowds

I heard a piece on the radio a few weeks ago about the philosophy behind Wikipedia and its public editing policies. It seems that the concept is based on a tenet of crowd psychology discovered over a hundred years ago. When asked to guess the weight of an ox at the county fair, whether or not any single person was correct in his or her estimate, the mean of all the entries was within a pound or two of the animal's actual weight.

In other words, even if individuals are off the mark, collaboration and/or combined effort will yield accurate results.

As interesting as it was, I totally forgot the notion until the other day. At the end of reading a series of memoir excerpts by Ralph Fletcher, I asked the students to create a time line of the key events. They could work individually or in small groups, at their preference. At the end of the assignment, there was quite a variety among the 12 products. We hung them up and did a little "gallery walk" where students  walked around silently and studied the work of their classmates.

Afterwards, when we talked about their observations, we started by listing the events that were on everybody's time line. It turned out that there were nine, and while any given kid or group could explain the extraneous entries on their chronology, the amazing thing was that those nine were definitely the main points of the story.

Why So Serious?

Let me start with a riddle.

Q: How many feminists does it take to change a light bulb?
A: That's NOT funny.

I used to think that joke was hilarious, but last night when I heard Mitt Romney say, "binders full of women," the patronizing attitude just made me mad.

Clearly I need to lighten up, especially because other folks have had a lot of fun with that image today.

My two favorites:

 

And this tweet

If you like it then you should have put three rings on it...

Ya Think?

With the rise in the availability of e-readers and e-reader apps, our school is on a threshold. We want kids to read and have their books handy, and kids want to read on nooks and kindles. All well and good, but for our antiquated rules about electronics in school.

And so it was in good faith I brought up the question of revisiting or even recrafting our regulations about such things in our team leader meeting this morning. At first the concern was roundly dismissed by another teacher. "Just tell them to turn it off or take it away," she said. "You have to monitor it, just like anything else."

Set aside the implication that I don't know what to do when my students are off task, and you'll see that she actually reinforced my question. Do we tell them to turn it off, or do we take it away, or is there another option?

Perhaps a clear rule would be helpful here...

Dinner is Served

Thank goodness I don't have to do the dishes!

Sense of Wonder

I spent the day catching up on some grading, and so at last I had the chance to carefully read the final drafts of the "sense poems" my students wrote and posted a week ago. As I mentioned in a previous post, the assignment was to choose a specific place and then conjure a descriptive detail for each of the senses and then put those descriptions into a prescribed format.

Overall, the kids did a nice job; most of the poems were sweet and observant, and almost every one had at least one inventive detail or conclusion that elevated the poem.

Even so, my favorite piece by far was this one about Egypt:

crowded stores with unique clothes that are new and fashionable

polluted air makes me hold my breath

shouting sellers make my eardrums go boom boom

strangers rush through me like I'm invisible

the hopeless water that comes from nowhere tastes like nowhere

oh my, what time is it?

Well Hush My Mouth

"Why don't we have summer rolls this week?" Heidi asked me last Sunday at the grocery store.

I shrugged. "Well," I said, "we could, but it's fall. That doesn't seem very seasonal."

Heidi graciously let it go, probably because in our family, I'm kind of the boss when it comes to food.

You can imagine my surprise (and humility), then, when I checked in with the New York Times food section this morning only to see this headline: Spring Rolls from Fall Vegetables.

And the recipes looked pretty darn good, too.

Thank Gooodness

On Friday evening everything seems possible. Homemade vegan pizza? No problem. Another glass of wine? Why not? That stack of papers in my school bag that is begging to be graded? Plenty of time for that--

tomorrow.

There are also books to be read, trails to be hiked, movies to be seen, groceries to be shopped for, and birthday dinners to be prepared and celebrated.

All easily within reach

on Friday evening.

Where Are They Now?

The English teachers in my school had subs today so that we could holistically score all of our students' writing samples. I spent most of the day reading eighth grade essays, which was fun, especially when I got to the ones that had been written by my former students. There weren't as many as I would have liked, and perhaps that was for the best, because call it bias, but I thought that overall they were better than the others I also read.

Not all who passed through my program shined, though. My favorite off-the-wall submission of the day was the work of one of my prior scholars. The prompt was to write about a special place-- describe it and explain why it is special to you. He wrote about the Virgin Islands. Reason number one that it was so special to him? Well, on his first visit, he caught a crazy virus and came down with a rash of blue spots all over. Reason number two was that his "great aunt (no relation)" has a condo overlooking the beach.

Can you wait for reason number three? Well... you'll have to, because that's where his story ended.

Poor Me! I Have Nothing to Say Because I'm too Busy

I once gave the following advice to a fellow blogger: Never write about having nothing to write about. It's boring and amateurish, even if done cleverly.

I stand by that, and there are a few other rules that I have developed over the last few years: General bitching is also dull, and No one wants to hear how busy you are.

Sometimes I think that I have unnecessarily hobbled myself, because when you try to write every day in addition to taking care of the rest of your jenk? Those three topics seem like an easy hundred words and out.

And yet I soldier on.

Written on the Body

"Has anyone else noticed that the kids have been doing an excessive amount of writing and drawing on themselves?" a colleague asked at our team meeting today. "Should we be concerned?"

The truth is, I had noticed, and I am mildly concerned. This dermography is not at the top of my list of worries about my students, but it's there, and I was glad to have the opportunity to grapple with it among other educators. The assistant principal was at our meeting, too. "Do we have a policy?" I asked. "If not, should we?"

I confess to an extreme bias here. I hate to have any markings on me, and likewise, I abhor tattoos. In my childhood they were limited to the biceps of a few ex-serviceman dads of my friends, but the explosion of ink in the last 15 years is unfathomable (and a little sickening) to me. BUT... I have learned to be very discreet about my opinion, because so many people have tattoos, both obvious and hidden.

There is no policy about writing on yourself, and at our meeting we briefly wondered if there should be. Is it just self-expression? Is it any worse than doodling on paper? Is the ink dangerous? One teacher offered that in middle school, she marked all over herself in gel pen, and it was her parents who put the kibosh on that.

I agree that it should be a parenting decision, but I wonder what some will think when their children come home all marked up. "When did you do that?" they might ask.

And if their children should reply, "Oh, in English class," I wouldn't fault those parents for questioning me.

Playing With My Food

Last night I made a roasted vegetable pot pie with a chick pea flour pancake on top, and today I shot a hundred almonds out of their skins and then pulverized them in some coconut milk. Once strained, they were amazingly milk-like, almost a dead ringer, really. Later I added some dates and cocoa powder and pureed them all up some more. With the addition of chia seeds? It was a surprisingly delicious pudding.

I've got veggies fermenting on the counter, vegan yogurt culture on order, and in a few minutes I'll be broiling braised white beans and chik'n marinated in olive oil and smoked paprika and sauced with tomatoes, peppers, and olives.

When I mention to people that Heidi is vegan, they almost always give me a sympathetic look and ask what I cook. It's natural to consider the limitations, but what about the opportunities?

Corks and Pinecones

The weather here took a definite turn toward winter today, and I confess to a bit of a thrill as I lifted my fleece jacket from the hook by the door for the first time since April? Or maybe May. The blustery gray outside suggested an opportunity to build the first fire of the season, but it never quite delivered the requisite nip for such an event.

It did make me think back to years past, though. Early October is so variable here. My sister-in-law's birthday is the 2nd and so I considered some of the family dinners we have had for her. She usually prefers an autumn menu, and we have certainly had perfect cerulean blue sky days and cool evenings to compliment her requests, but there have also been years when I couldn't find a single leaf of color to adorn our table, and we've cranked the a/c to provide a little seasonal chill.

Who cares though? I like fall because it fits in perfectly with my homebody instincts. When the days turn short and cool, who isn't tempted to put on a big pot of soup and relax by the fire? Years ago, when our nephews were younger, fall was always a time we spent weekends together. We did fun pumpkin patch things, watched Scooby Doo, and roasted whatever we had on the fire.

And the fire? Well, to keep it burning bright we always made sure that we had plenty of kindling, like pine cones (that sap is amazing!) and wine corks. The boys were always more than happy to scavenge beneath the many Virginia Pines we have around here, stuffing bags with their flammable fruit. And I was equally happy to provide the corks. Believe me, it was never a hardship to open a bottle of wine.

Stepping Out

We're going to a wedding this evening. Anyone who knows me, knows I'm much more of a dress down than a dress up girl. Even so, I needed something appropriate to wear, so reluctantly I've spent some time over the last few weekends shopping.

At first it was discouraging-- nothing fit right, nothing looked right, and soon I began to dread the event at all. Luckily, a little online browsing yielded a promising result, and so tape measure in hand, I ordered a dress from Nordstrom.

When it arrived, I didn't even want to open it, but of course eventually I did, and I was verrrrry pleasantly surprised to find it a perfect fit, both for me and the occasion, even though it isn't anything like my usual style. In fact, this morning, Heidi was facetiming with her mom, and turned the camera to show her my dress. "Wow!" she said. "Did Tracey know it had all those sequins when she ordered it?"

How Great Thou Art

I love teaching sixth grade.

For most kids, it's the first time they are dipping their big toe into the big pool of life, and they love the independence. BUT... then there are those days when it seems much more fun to whisper with your friend about what happened at lunch than to talk about and actually do the assignment, and uh-oh, you are way to busy to catch up at home, and suddenly you are a few things behind and not sure what to do.

In the education we call that a teachable moment, but I think I've heard other people say, Give 'em enough rope and they'll hang themselves. Still, where I'm from we try not to hang the middle school children, even metaphorically.

Such an occasion is an opportunity. Can you solve this on your own? Should we involve your parents? How can we support you in being more successful? Most eleven-year-olds have never heard those questions, much less been asked them. They expect their teachers to be both instructors and enforcers, and that's convenient because if they don't get it? It's never their fault.

That's why we try to create an engaging, low stakes environment with clear accountability. Every student has more than one chance to succeed or fail, make an adjustment (with the support of their parents if necessary), and then try again. In such a classroom, consequence and punishment are not synonyms.

Tonight we received a forwarded email from our nephew's middle school English teacher. After describing the 2 assignments he had missing, it read, Today is the last day for my students to be able to make up zeroes, so he will have one hour in class to raise his grade. Please let me know if you have any questions. Have a great Friday!

Could that be more unrealistic? I mean face it-- their Friday is blown.

Where I'm From

My students are using George Ella Lyon's poem, Where I'm From as a mentor text this week. Lyons uses a montage of images to create a strong picture of her roots. The assignment allows the sixth graders to gather and select concrete details from their families' past and present and craft them into poems of their own.

As concrete as I try to make the task, it is extremely abstract at its core. "Where am I from?" students often ask in confusion. "My parents? The hospital? I don't get it!" We muddle through, though, and by the end, most get the idea.

This afternoon, we had a bit of excitement in the building. One of my student's mom went into labor in the girls room around the corner. Everything turned out okay-- the ambulance arrived before the baby was born-- but given the many conversations I had today, I laughed to think where that child might think she is from.

May You Live in Interesting Times

Some of my students from last year came back to pay me a visit. "How are the sixth graders this year?" they wanted to know.

"Oh they're really nice," I answered.

"But not as nice as we were, right?"

"Oh, they're pretty nice," I said, and they looked disappointed. "But I can promise you this," I added. "I don't have one single class that is quite as exciting as yours was."

They took it as a compliment.

Bueller? Anyone?

Here's how it is:

 Me: I'm having trouble scheduling the field trip for the day we wanted.

Colleague: Yay! Does that mean we can go somewhere else?

Me: Sure. We can go anywhere you want if you're willing to make some calls and set it up.

Colleague: So, what was the problem with the first place?

Revolving Door

I have no illusions that TV networks are working very hard to get my viewership. I have been marginalized all my life. First I was a child, then when I was 18-35, I wasn't male, and now? I'm just an old fogey who likes to watch one show a night before retiring early.

Perhaps it's my advanced age, but sometimes it can be jarring to see an actor who was formerly a regular on one of your favorite shows cast as a new character on another. It happened last season on Law and Order: SVU-- when Christopher Meloni left (and joined the cast of True Blood, which I don't watch) Danny Pino from Cold Case and Kelli Giddish from Chase (both of which I did watch, until they were canceled) joined the show.

Then, just the other night on this season's premier who should appear but Paget Brewster, whose character Emily Prentiss just left Criminal Minds, and Adam Baldwin who was Casey on Chuck.

Ay yi yi! "This can't continue," I said to Heidi. "One of those two is the culprit. The other might stay."

And, may I say? I was correct.

But I still don't like it.

Feeling Left Out

I'm not a big football fan. Don't get me wrong-- I don't hate the game, but my interest is casual at best. I keep up with the local team more to know what my students are talking about than anything else. Still, as I sat here enjoying the final hours of the weekend, my windows open to the cool early-autumn evening, I could hear the cheers and groans of my neighbors drifting through the complex on the night air.  

What on earth IS going on? I wondered, but then I remembered-- the game is on. It must be good, I thought and promptly turned it on. With 9 minutes left in the 4th quarter, the opposing team had just scored to pull within 2.

And the rest was pretty dramatic: Our team fell behind with a little more than a minute left. They moved the ball down the gridiron to within field goal range, and then their kicker, who had been driven out of our neighboring city when he missed a field goal that would have won the championship and was 0-3 in this game, with 3 seconds left on the clock nailed it for a one point win.

Great stuff! I'll be sure to use it at the proverbial water cooler tomorrow. Even so, I'm kind of sorry that once I turned on my own TV,  I couldn't hear my neighbors' reactions anymore.

I'm sure they were happy.

Exercise Discipline Affection and Inspiration

We went down to the Second Annual National Family Pack Walk this morning. Organized by Cesar Millan's foundation to promote animal rescue and rehabilitation, the Dog Whisperer himself was present along with his co-host Scooby Doo. This event has been on our calendar for months, ever since Heidi saw a commercial for it during her favorite show, yes, The Dog Whisperer.

For those who are unfamiliar, Millan visits the homes of troubled dogs and rehabilitates them and their owners by breaking negative behavior cycles. His argument that dogs need calm assertive leadership from their owners is very compelling and especially convincing when you watch the show and witness the turn-arounds he is able to facilitate in case after case.

We were there bright and early, and Cesar (and his security detail) passed us within feet three times. In person he is an unassuming figure, but his speech was inspiring, and most impressive of all? You should have seen the dogs in the crowd. There was not an aggressive pooch in sight, and as thousands of people and their dogs walked a mile behind the ultimate pack leader, I did not hear a single growl.

Location Location Location

For the last week or so, we have been working on sensory details in my English classes. I have some good mentor texts; the kids looked in their independent reading books for examples; we went outside to gather some, and they did a little sense poem exercise.

That particular assignment asks writers to imagine a specific place and then conjure a descriptive detail for each of the senses. Most kids pick the beach or the woods, the pool or New York City; this year some wrote about Paris and Ethiopia, but there are always a few that think outside the box (the future, Candyland), and one or two who want to test the limits.

Case in point:

Student: Can I write about the bathroom?
Me: Sure.
Student (surprised): I can?
Me, shrugging: If you want to and you think it's a good idea. Try it.

A little while later he was kind of stuck. There was always a chance that he could have pulled it off with humor or irony, but he was taking a pretty literal approach-- he had a lot of farting and stinking in his poem and couldn't think of too much else. My advice is always that in a piece this short, it's a mistake to repeat a word or image because it weakens the impact of it, and that's definitely what was going on.

Still, he was committed to the poem, eventhough any negative attention he might have gotten from his peers was diffused by my matter-of-fact treatment of his topic. I looked over his shoulder to see if I could help. We back-and-forthed out a few possibilities, and then he wondered if he could try another topic.

"Sure," I said, "that's what writers do."

Unprecedented

Mary came to my room today at around 1:45. She was on a mission, as it seems that we all are all the time now, and time was short, as it seems it always is all the time now. She had some questions; I had a few answers, but it wasn't long before the conversation turned to our impending writing group meeting tonight.

The wine I wanted to bring was sold out; Mary hadn't finished her writing; I hadn't started my writing; we had a meeting at 2; I had another one at 2:40; there was a sixth grade mixer after school and a home tennis match, too; tomorrow's lessons were barely planned, to speak nothing of next week.

"We should just reschedule," I sighed.

And without skipping a beat Mary said, "Call Leah right now."

Which I did, and although she didn't answer her mobile, she picked up her classroom phone on the first ring, "This is Leah."

"Leah! It's Tracey. Mary's here and we really want to move writing group to next week."

As fortune would have it, just then Ellen walked in. We were all present, and we were all overwhelmed.

"If Tracey want's to cancel, you know it's bad," Mary said, but I knew that was true for all of us. Our writing group has been meeting almost every month since 2006, and this was the first time we ever had to cancel.

Thank goodness everyone can do it next Thursday! AND I will tell you this-- come what may, I will be there at 6:30 with a couple of bottles of good wine and some writing.

And That's Okay

One of the Tolerance Club initiatives at our school has been to teach kids how, when witnessing a bullying situation, they can be "upstanders" rather than bystanders.

A student at one of the high schools in our district actually produced a video on the topic for his senior project. Scored to the recording of Born This Way by Lady Gaga, the 12 minute film shows a number of students and staff holding up a large sign. On the first side they have written a fact about themselves, such as "I am bi-racial" or "I am short" or "I am Muslim" or "I like boys and girls" or "I have ADHD" and then they flip the sign to read, "And That's Okay." It is a powerful presentation that depicts the diversity of their community, and the message that we should accept each other for who we are is clear.

On Monday, we have had members of the Tolerance Club create their own signs, and we have shared them in a circle at the end of our meeting. Once again it was fascinating and wonderful to see what the kids chose to share about themselves and so moving to hear the words and that's okay repeated over and over again.

Like last year, we are going school-wide with this activity. On Friday, all of our students will view the video, and then make signs of their own in their homerooms. Teachers are strongly encouraged to participate, too, and so I've done it twice so far. Last year I struggled to find something revealing (but not too), something that I was a little uncomfortable with, but which really should be "okay." I settled on, "I don't like to wear skirts, " and, to be honest, I was surprised at how many girls were with me. On Monday, I admitted that I don't like it when people sit in "my" seat in the team room. Once again, some kids really got it, but I think my colleagues are still on the fence.

And perhaps that's another blog post altogether, but I do want to say that I am looking forward to doing this with my homeroom on Friday, even if I'm not sure what I'm going to share.

9:30 in the Bubble

I went to a small high school where everyone was required to play a sport and so if you went out for a team? You pretty much made it. That was me and basketball. I was on the varsity basketball team all three years, but making the team and playing in the games were two very different things.

It turned out that, despite my enthusiasm, I was a bench sitter. At the time, it was a mystery to me. In practice I was nothing if not compliant: I always gave my best in any drill or scrimmage and made all the corrections the coach called out, and yet still I sat cheering for my teammates in every game.

Years later, when I was a teacher and recruited to be a co-coach of the girls team, I understood why. Back then? I was clueless. I had zero body awareness and the concept of plays and strategies flowed past me like an alpine stream over a waterfall. As an educator, in retrospect I could place some responsibility on the coach  (I know what a willing student I was), but on the other hand, as a coach, I know you have a lot to accomplish in a limited time, and sometimes there are children left behind.

Even so, I look back on my high school basketball career very fondly. First, I nailed the lay up-- I totally know how to do that and I have taught countless girls to do one, too. Secondly, there is no feeling like being a part of a team, and I can honestly say that every cheer I made from the bench was genuine-- I loved those girls and their success was glorious.

I am still in touch with one of my best friends from high school despite our fundamental philosophical differences. She is a conservative Midwestern doctor, and I am a liberal East coast teacher, but it was Amy who worked with me to improve my skills. We met every night in the gym after study hall and practiced for 30 minutes. And it was she who flew off the bench in celebration when I scored the only two points of my career.

That's what counts.

Score Board

Back to School Night 20
Me 0

I just cannot make my presentation fit into 10 minutes!

Fortunately?

There's always next year.

North Meets South

I dreamed all night of eating spinach-- raw, sauteed, creamed-- and awoke wondering if I had an iron deficiency. Fortunately, I had on hand one of my favorite breakfasts, Colcannon. This traditional Irish dish is a mixture of cabbage, kale, or other greens with potatoes and onions, and sometimes turnip and ham or corned beef. 

A few days ago, I pulled out the last of the frozen greens from last winter's CSA share, and cooked up a big batch. I like it during the school year, because on weekday mornings it's easy to reheat, and a hard-boiled egg makes it into a very satisfying start to the day. This morning, though, I had another topping in mind.

A couple weeks ago, I watched a slide show on the NYTimes website. Spanish chef Jose Andres demonstrates how to cook the perfect fried egg. It involves a lot of olive oil and some unorthodox spooning, so clearly it was worth a go.

In retrospect Spain meets Ireland could have been a Eurozone nightmare, but of course it was delicious and very economical, too.

By the Book

We went down to the National Book Festival today, mostly just to hear David Levithan speak, and let me tell you, he did not disappoint. I read his latest book, Every Day, a few weeks ago and was blown away.

The main character is a sixteen year old who goes by A. Every morning A wakes up in a different  body and literally spends the day in that person's skin. Age is the only commonality; this has been going on as long as A has lived, and the kids whose lives A has shared grow older as A does. The novel starts when they are all 16. As a result, A has no gender identity, no race, no religion. Levithan said today that he in writing the book he wanted to explore that essential core of anyone who makes us who we are.

David Levithan is a charming, openly-gay guy who is very positive and upbeat. An editor himself, he is also articulate and knowledgeable about writing and literature. He was great in the Q & A, and my only regret is that I didn't dash to the mike to ask if Every Day would have a sequel. To this reader, the possibility seemed open.

The author immediately after Levithan in the YA tent happened to be the legendary RL Stine. Personally, I've never been a big fan, but my students have loved his work for twenty years. In fact, I just read his memoir, It Came From Ohio, last weekend to see if it would fit in to our reading unit. I didn't need to stay for the whole thing, but I did want to see him up close and in person, and so we loitered outside the tent until a green golf cart pulled up. Stine, clad entirely in black, clambered out. He was a little grayer and more stooped than I imagined, but there he was, horn-rimmed glasses and all, a literary superstar among middle schoolers everywhere.

Fourth Annual RSVP

As in past years, I gave the students a writing prompt yesterday to get a baseline of their writing skills. Their pieces will be scored holistically using the state rubric. We'll give them another prompt in early June to measure their progress for the year.

The topic was the same as it has been the last three 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 tie for most wanted:

President Obama
Rick Riordan

In addition to those two, it was cool to see several other authors represented, as well.

JK Rowling
Suzanne Collins
Jeff Kinney
Wendy Mass
Ally Carter

Of course there was no shortage of entertainers, although it's hard for the kids to find convincing reasons for some to speak to our students. They really just want a free show.

One Direction
Stevie Wonder
Taylor Swift
Jay Z
Demi Lovato
Selena Gomez
Wiz Khalifa
Sandra Bullock
Chris Brown
Niall Horran
Kelly Clarkson
Miley Cyrus
Common
Sean Connery
Victorious Crew
Katy Perry
Ringo Starr
Daniel Craig
Shia Laboeuf
Bill Murray
Johnny Depp

Not surprisingly, there were a lot of athletes, too:

Dwyane Wade
Usain Bolt
Josh Lundquist
LA Galaxy
Barcelona
Baltimore Ravens
Miami Heat
Lionel Messi
Charles Woodson
Ryan Zimmerman
Dominique Dawes
Real Madrid
Michael Phelps
Tim Tebow
Gabby Douglas
Bryce Harper
Josh Lindblom

And then there were a few others.

Mitt Romney
Michelle Obama
President Clinton
Bill Gates
Tito from the county drug prevention program
Notch (the guy who designed Minecraft)
Amelia Earhart

You've Got Mail

In the future, the US Postal Service will probably have an abbreviated role in our lives. Even today personal correspondence is way down (hardly a surprise, given the instant gratification of electronic communication), junk mail advertisements are on their way out, and most publications are available online or via an app. Most utilities and credit companies would prefer that we accept our bills electronically and pay that way as well. Of course there will always be things and stuff that must be physically delivered, at least until we perfect the transporter beam. Sure, it might take a while; Scotty won't even be born until 2222, but you're on notice UPS and Fed Ex.

Call me old-fashioned, but I can't help thinking something will be lost in such a transition. Just tonight our six-year-old friend, Savannah thanked us for her birthday gift. We got her a subscription to a magazine published for kids her age. She hadn't even read it yet, but just the experience of having a piece of mail delivered to her house with her name on it was exciting, and when we told her that there would be another one every month? She practically fainted.

Of course I only know this because we were on FaceTime. 21st century communication does have its advantages.

Mainstream Media Miss

I heard a piece on NPR this morning about an experiment conducted by a researcher at the University of Chicago. The main question of the segment was how to motivate teachers to maximize student achievement. Of the method they were covering, "It's not exactly a carrot and it's not exactly a stick," the reporter told us. What "it" is is a riff on "loss aversion." The study found that teachers who received a cash bonus up front under the conditions that they would have to return it if their students did not achieve were gangbusters successful in making sure their kids passed the test.

Could there be any doubt that I was disappointed by this story? Not only is it insulting to suggest that teachers need external motivation to help their students achieve, but nobody even questioned the definition of "achievement;" it was stipulated as success on a standardized test. (Golly, I wonder what kind of test prep, cough, I mean teaching, was going on in those classrooms?)

What's the Objective?

I have a student this year who is constantly asking why we are doing whatever it is we are. He is always very courteous and sincere when he asks what the point of the lesson or activity is. I know this, because as an experienced classroom teacher I automatically search his eyes with my x-ray bullshit detector vision to see if this is a case of work avoidance, defiance, or something else equally counterproductive. With him, though, it seems to be genuine, if pointed, curiosity.

Despite the fact that he is a bit mischievous and somewhat distractable (in other words, eleven), his question always has a ring of authenticity to it, and so I answer him honestly, explaining what I hope he and the rest of my students will get from the lesson and how. Once so informed, he seems not only satisfied but also doubly willing to accomplish the task at hand.

I wonder who taught him to ask this question, and why, especially because such a conversation is very rare in sixth grade. One day, I will ask him about it, but until then? I'm enjoying the accountability.

The Worst Years of Your Life?

We ran into a former student and her mom at the farmers market yesterday. "How's high school?" Heidi asked. "Do you love it?"

Emma shook her head vigorously. "Oh yeah!" she answered.

Heidi and I exchanged shrugs and nods. "That's what they all say," Heidi told her. "Middle school must be pretty rotten."

More knowing shrugs all around.

"Well," her mom said brightly, "at least you two are there. That makes a big difference!"

That was nice.

Oh My! That Internets is Amazing!

One of my newest semi-obsessions is Goodreads.  For those who are unaware, GR is a social networking site devoted to books and reading. I actually joined a year or so ago and then got busy and forgot about it. I'm not sure what renewed my interest in it a few weeks ago (probably work avoidance of some sort), but once I started listing books I'd read, the gratification of watching my list grow was pretty intense, and I've been hooked ever since.

But wait, there's more! Not only can you keep a running record of all you have read, along with your personal ratings (in stars, written reviews are optional), you can also receive suggestions based on your bookshelf, connect with friends to see what they are reading and what they recommend, and even follow authors who are also members.

I know I'm relatively late to the Goodreads party, but as an English teacher? I must say that it's never too late to celebrate reading. In fact, I'm working on ways to use the site with my kids. I'll keep you posted.

(In the mean time you can friend me!)

Cowboys and Mennonites

We took advantage of the PERFECT! weather this evening and piled Isabel in the station wagon for a walk on the National Mall. I was kind of anxious to see the newly re-opened reflecting pool by the Washington Monument; it seems like it's been a muddy hole in the ground for a really long time.

Despite how gorgeous it was, at 5:15 we had no trouble parking and plenty of daylight left. There are many things I love about being on the mall. To me, Washington is architecturally the most European city in the States, and having had the pleasure of living on that continent for three years, I appreciate its monumental nature. That particular part of DC is also a place where people from all over the world converge, more so even than in other areas of our very diverse region, and on our walk tonight we must have heard a dozen languages. (I definitely recognized Arabic, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian, and of course, English, but there were several more.)

Tonight I found yet another reason to head to our nation's backyard. Here in our nation's capital, we are lucky to have a very successful bike share program with stations conveniently located all over town. This evening as we walked, every place we passed was out of bikes, but that was hardly surprising considering the number of riders we saw all around us.

Judging by the appearance of those folks pedaling along the paths, it seems that like many of the other attractions of Washington, bicycles are also an international draw. My favorites, though, were the three guys in jeans, boots, and stetsons, who were closely followed by the four men in plain black pants, brilliant blue shirts buttoned to the throat, and flat wide-brimmed hats. Those guys must have left their horses (and buggies) at home.

Ahead of Her Time

 This morning as I blended up Heidi's breakfast smoothie, I was momentarily transported forty years back in time to another blender in another kitchen, and it reminded me that my mother was always somewhat of a visionary. Back then, one of our breakfast staples was an invention of hers we called Goody Milk. Decades before the smoothie became the go-to on the run power meal, my mom was blitzing up milk, fruit, ice cubes, and a raw egg to give us a quick and energizing start to our day. She also baked breakfast cookies complete with oatmeal, dried fruit, and bacon.

But that's not all. Before we headed off to school, my mother corralled me and my friends for a ten minute work-out in our living room. Despite our teenaged groaning she led us in stretches, leg lifts, abs, and lunges every morning. Today, at 73, my mother continues to be a model of health and fitness. She exercises regularly and eats a sensible diet.

Imagine a road of wellness that stretches from Jane Fonda to Michelle Obama-- over the years, millions of people have jumped on the fitness bandwagon as it has passed by, modifying their habits and their diets to live a healthier life.

But my mom? She didn't have to jump on; she was already driving it.

Be Careful What You Wish For

I hate to be a knee-jerk complainer, so when I found out there would be an adult education class meeting in my room every day at 4:30, I tried to accept it as the Universe's way of telling me that I spend too much time at school. I'll go to the garden or the gym, I thought. Who knows? This could be life-altering!

It wasn't too many days before I knew it would be almost impossible to get all my work done if I was forced to pack up and leave by that time, and the only alteration it would have on my life was in my job performance. With a sigh, I resolved to contact my administrator.

Fortunately, she couldn't have been more cooperative (thanks Ellen!), and today I had access to my room until 6:45. I gleefully crossed several items off off of my to-do list, and it was quarter to six before I knew it. All of a sudden the prospect of going home to do my evening chores and cook dinner seemed impossibly exhausting. I was out of gas and running on fumes. Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Will you need us to move the later class?" the building attendant politely asked.

"No thank you," I replied, then added, "Please, shoot me if I'm still here by then."

In MY School...

Let this post be the first of a series.

Almost every serious teacher fantasizes about the ideal school-- so much so that we often either end a rant and start a wistful conversation with Well, when I have MY school...

In 19 years I've had my fair share of such conversations, but one constant has always been that anyone who is going to require teachers to do something should themselves be an active teacher. Theory and practice diverge every day in the classroom, and I do not mean that as an excuse. I truly believe that our job is more than just a job and to understand it, you have to do it.

So much of what we have been tasked with lately is hoop-jumping and box-checking in the name of accountability, and while some ineffective teachers may be ferreted out, the rest of our students will be penalized, because the time we spend proving that we are spending our time well is time we are not spending on them.

Eleven Years Later

This morning I thought about how eerie it was that this perfectly clear, cool, and blue-sky Tuesday so resembled the one 11 years ago. I've told my 9-11 story many times-- how our school is just a mile from the Pentagon and colleagues actually saw the plane as it descended, how my classes were in the computer lab and the emergency announcement was made at passing time so that when we returned to our room we were confused to find it locked, how I knocked on a colleague's door and she wouldn't answer at first because we were in lock down, how my students and I sat obediently in the dark without having any idea why, how an explosion shook our building so violently that our principal used the PA system to warn us all to take cover, and how I decided it was better to sit up in a chair and read to my students than to hide under the tables with them-- we were all scared, but I wanted them to know that someone was in charge.

This afternoon I checked my email at school and was delighted to find a message from a former student. Here's what she wrote:

Given where I currently work (right by your school) and what today’s date is, I’m reminded of exactly where I was 11 years ago today. I was in your classroom along with the other students, completely unaware of what was going. I remember all of us were worried because somehow we were hearing rumors ( I say somehow because in '01, none of us had iPhones or Blackberrys), and I also recall the announcements telling us to take cover until we eventually were taken to the gym. But, what I remember most is how you tried to keep us calm by simply reading aloud to us in the darkness of our classroom, sitting under our tables. I remember that and as an adult now I can’t even imagine how stressful a situation that must have been for you, but even so, your priority was to make sure we all stayed calm. I hope the students you’re teaching today realize the significance of what today is, and know that about a decade ago the kids sitting in their seats were having a very different type of school day that would change them forever.

It was an unforgettable day, but even though I am in the same classroom doing the same job, many of the students I teach now were not even born then. They honor this day with us as they have been taught to do, but not from any sense of personal loss.

They remind us all that life goes on, and that is why I teach.

The Rabbit Test

When I was a kid, a popular punch line on some of the silly sitcom re-runs we loved to watch was, "The rabbit died." Upon hearing the sentence, the studio audience would roar with laughter at the recognition that somewhere a pregnancy test was administered, and the resulting death of the lab rabbit meant that the woman was expecting... or not. Rabbits die under other circumstances sometimes, and that was the joke.

Today you can pee on a stick and get the same diagnostic results, and I'm sure rabbits everywhere are super-relieved, but back then I never gave those rabbits who died a second thought-- they may as well have been paper strips thrown in the trash once they had served their purpose.

Over the past week, Heidi has been caring for our neighbor's pet rabbit. A rescue bunny, Oliver had a room of his own, and, despite his understandably ornery disposition, was well-loved. Yesterday when she went to check on him, Heidi found Oliver lying still in his crate, a pet-sitter's nightmare and so not funny.

I guess it's different when you know the rabbit.

Two Day Weekends

Who thought that was a good idea?

Turn, Turn, Turn

Even though it was warm and muggy this morning when I took the dog out, the light breeze must have suggested a change to me. I couldn't feel it, but when we got back the muffins I baked were pumpkin instead of peach, and tonight we have mashed potatoes for dinner where last night there was ratatouille.

Sure enough, there was an hour of severe weather this afternoon, and tomorrow it is predicted to be in the 70s.

Now that is change I can embrace.

On to the Next Thing

Menu:

• 100% all beef Halal hot dog on  bun
• Individual bag of chips
• Bottle of water
• Slice of watermelon

Number of diners:     
        350
Total cost:

• $481.57 or
• $1.38 per person

2012 Sixth Grade Picnic:

• A success!
• Over!