No Problem

After putting 2100+ miles on the rental van, traveling from Virginia to Maine and then to Buffalo, we finally pulled up to Josh's house in Hershey, PA at around 6:30 last night. "Here we are!" I announced.

"Sweet," he answered. "Thanks for the ride!"

Turn About

Two days later, and we're still  laughing about that t-shirt we saw in Orchard Beach: That's a nice story, Babe, now make me a sandwich. But we think it's funny, because in our house, the opposite would be way more accurate. In fact I can almost hear Heidi saying it now: That's a nice sandwich, Babe, now listen to my story...

Amusement

I've never been a big fan of amusement parks. Once many years ago when a group of coworkers at the catering company where I cooked planned a big day-off outing to Busch Gardens, I tagged along for the company. It wasn't long before someone noticed I wasn't waiting in many of those long turnstile lines. "If you don't like rides, what are you here for?" she wondered.

"Oh, I came for the food and the shows," I replied. That cracked us up for a while.

When I was a kid, the cool, new ride was the flume. Theme parks everywhere were adding a log ride to their attractions. People loved the novelty of getting wet at the end of the thrilling plunge. Back then, the lines for the flume were always over an hour long, especially on a hot summer day. I remember waiting impatiently in such a line with my mom, brother, and sister. Even though I tried to avoid anything with a big drop, there was something about the churning water in the half pipe chute that soothed my fear. When we emerged, dripping as advertised, down the ramp at the end of the ride, my reaction was a distinct, That wasn't too bad.

Even today, there's something about a log ride that I find vaguely inviting, and so when I found myself at an amusement park this afternoon with Heidi's parents, Kyle, and Josh, I agreed to ride the flume with Kyle when no one else would. The line was maybe a quarter of an hour long, and I passed the time enjoying the shade of the pavilion, chatting with Kyle, and people watching.

I was probably the oldest person waiting to climb into a fiberglass log, and my first observation was that tattoos really seem to be here stay, at least among the western New York theme park crowd. After that, I affectionately noticed many people who reminded me of students, past and present, and then I saw folks who reminded me of me. Here a little girl waiting with her mom and siblings, there an a young girl with her cousins, and another older girl with her high school friends. In the next turnstile over, I saw a woman in her thirties with a group of kids who weren't her children, but were definitely hers.

At last it was time for me and Kyle to board our log and float off with the rushing current, and so we did, laughing as the water splashed us at the foot of each drop. "That was fun!" Kyle said as we walked down the ramp to rejoin our group. I did not disagree.

Roadside Assistance

Hurricane Arthur smacked the Maine coast somewhere around three this morning. Hard steady rain pounding on the skylights and wind howling through the balsams woke me up, and it was hard to get back to sleep knowing all the packing and loading we would have to do once day broke.

The storm was still steady when we all got up, but with the help of Josh and the benefit of our new foul weather gear, we were only slightly soggy when we piled into the van for a 9:30 departure. The going was a little slow on the two-lane roads that made up the first leg of our journey, though, and it was close to noon before we made the interstate.

Then there was the question of that lobster we promised to bring to Heidi's parents in Buffalo, so I got off the turnpike again south of Portland, hoping to find a good place on Rte 1. Our search took us on a detour to Orchard Beach, where we found a helpful lobster pound who packed up four to go. 

Saturday of Fourth of July weekend is crowded at any beach town, though, and we found ourselves stuck in traffic on the strip. Even though it gave us a lot of opportunity to people watch and window shop from the van (best bad shirt slogan: That was a nice story, babe, now make me a sandwich), knowing we had miles to go before we slept, we soon became impatient to get back on the road. 

By now it was well past lunch time, and we delayed a little longer looking for a spot where we could get one last lobster roll and maybe a couple of burgers. No such luck, though, and so I turned back onto the highway.

Not too far down the road we passed a rest stop and service area with a huge sign: Lobsters packed to travel, and darn it if they didn't have lobster rolls and burgers, too. Good to know.

Arthurian

With a hurricane looming and a national holiday on the calendar, we decided to take it easy this last day of our vacation and hang close to our rental home. At dinner last night, anticipating rain, I proposed taking advantage of the ping pong table downstairs by organizing a little double elimination tournament.  "I know what's going to happen," Bill said. "Josh is going to crush us all-- unless I can beat him." Despite the dire prediction, everyone agreed to play, and with the help of that miraculous internet, I put together a random bracket for the nine of us.

Today dawned clear and sunny, though, and with Wimbledon and the World Cup, we all found other things to do until about 4 pm. There were gathering clouds then, and the prospect of making a potluck supper using as many of our left overs as possible, so we knew it was now or never, and the nine of us trooped down the stairs for the first game of the tourney.

The table was a flat blue as Bill and Emily picked up their paddles to face off in the first game. We are all rusty or novices or both, and as the tournament progressed the play was an exciting combination of skill and incompetence. Double elimination gave all of us a chance at redemption, and there was a lot of improvement as we played. Even so, it seemed like Bill's prediction would hold, as Josh soundly beat his early opponents. Bill himself fell in an early round, and the consequence was that he had to win several games in a row to advance, but at last he did, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat on more than one occasion.

In the end it came to the show down of Bill versus Josh. Josh was well rested, having come through the winner's bracket, and Bill, having played three straight matches, had to beat him twice to claim the title "Clam-pion" or king of the clams.

We were all on the edge of our seats, our heads nodding back and forth with each rally, as they battled point by point. Bill took the first game, but Josh smiled with casual determination as he served to win the title. It was not to be. Bill's prediction of the night before was borne out. He had stopped the juggernaut of a Josh.

Outside, a light rain had started. Arthur approached.

Unbroken

For me, one of the pleasures of a long road trip is always the chance to listen to an audio book on the way. For this voyage from Virginia to Maine and on to Buffalo and Hershey, PA, before returning home, I had to think for a while before I came up with a book I thought all four of us, two middle aged ladies, and two boys, 18 and 14, might enjoy.

As I browsed through the options, I came across Unbroken, by Laura Hillenbrand, the story of Louis Zamperini, an Olympic runner who as an airman during WWII crashed into the Pacific and then spent 47 days adrift in a life raft before being captured by the Japanese and imprisoned. My friend Mary had told me what a great story it was, and it definitely seemed to have something for everyone in our group, so I thought I would give it a try.

We were almost to Connecticut when I made a general announcement to the van that all passengers would have to listen to at least two chapters of the book before putting in their own earbuds. Josh and Kyle were more than obliging, and the four of us were hooked long before we hit the detour at exit 30 on I-84. 

The narrative is so riveting that we have listened to it all week up and down the country roads of Maine on our way to this or that beautiful place. We have also brought it up in conversation so many times, that this evening when I was helping with dinner, my brother burst into the kitchen, the NY Times website on his iPad. "Louis is dead!" he announced.

I was momentarily confused, but then I understood. At 97 years old, after all the trials he had faced, the hero of our story finally passed away peacefully at home in California. I felt a lump in my throat and goosebumps on my arms; it was as if someone I knew had died.

Rest in peace, Louie.

Fly Boy

It was no easy feat to get our party of nine people and two dogs out the door by 8 am this morning, but we did it. We only had one chance for the mail boat in Stonington that would take us over to Isle au Haut for the day, and so everybody got up early, ate breakfast, and packed lunches and enough water to last all day-- there were no stores where we were going.

The island was just as beautiful today as I remembered it, with plenty of wide granite ledges and cobble stone beaches overlooking the deep blue Atlantic, but it was a much buggier than last time, too. The cool ocean breeze kept a lot of pests away, but there were still a few stretches of trail where we were all swatting deer flies and some pretty huge horse flies, too. It became almost a social activity; each of us obligingly smacking anything that landed on the hiker in front of us. Kyle pursued the parasites with particular alacrity, reveling in each successful swat. "Pow!" He exclaimed at one point, "I got him right in the buzzer!"

Parking

There's a little park at the end of Main Street in Bar Harbor that looks out over the Harbor itself and the Porcupine Islands beyond. Our group of nine split up after doing our traditional picnic on Great Head this afternoon. The big boys and Seiyoung headed off for the Bee Hive and other challenges while Bill, Emily, Heidi, Kyle and I took the dogs into town. Once here, I thought it was a little too warm to leave the dogs in the car, and with not much interest in shopping, the three if us set off down the hill. Here I found a shady spot on the grass just a little ways up from the four masted schooner Margaret Hood. Right now bits of conversations in several different languages are floating past on the warm breeze blowing through the maples and birches, and the dogs are sleeping only to be roused by the friendly folks asking to give them a pat as they pass. 

HBD

From the moment I got up this morning and my oldest nephew appeared like an apparition and wished me a happy birthday before mysteriously vanishing again, to the time I spent with him and his girlfriend on the beach learning to navigate the silky, croc-thieving mud so that we could fill our bucket with mussels, to the freshly-squeezed carrot-grapefruit-strawberry juice my brother served us on the granite ledges, to the warm noontime sunshine and perfectly cool breeze I enjoyed while tossing the tennis ball for the dogs, to the time we spent exploring the scenic back roads of this rural peninsula on the way to John B Mountain where the trail to the top is so springy it's like mini-trampolines propelling you forward until you reach those granite ledges with views of Camden and Rockport to the west and Mount a Desert Island to the east, to the inexplicably natural art-laden trail along the Penobscot Bay on the way to Goose Falls, to all the birthday love on Facebook, and my niece and nephew singing, facetiming my mom as I relaxed on the deck listening to the gulls screech and Josh softly strumming his guitar, while the daylight slips away with the tide and my birthday feast is being prepared inside, I couldn't have conjured a more wonderful day.

Stellar

After dinner tonight Josh built a fire in the fire ring in the backyard. Kyle and I were the first ones out there, but eventually the rest of our group joined us, lured by the fire but snared by the stars. Because the stars were amazing tonight. Up here away from the city lights of our hometown we can see so many more, not to mention the Milky Way, several satellites, and a ton of shooting stars. I pulled up the star gazing app on my phone, and despite implying that Pluto was visible with the naked eya and we could see through the earth to the other side, in general it was very helpful, allowing us to really see why they ever decided to name some of those constellations in the first place. It was kind of a revelation, and Treat summed it up best when he marveled, "Just look at that great bear!"

What's the Name of this River?

When we were children living in South Jersey our family made the drive to DC pretty often. In those days that road trip involved me, my brother, and sister tucked in the back of our Ford Falcon eating Chikn-in-a-Biscuit crackers and playing the license plate game with our parents. About halfway into the journey and a little while after passing under the hairpin towers of the Delaware Memorial Bridge, the highway would open up and cross a huge expanse of water. "What's the name of this river?" my dad always asked, and in a chorus we replied,

"The Susquehanna!"

A few miles down the road we'd find ourselves descending through Baltimore Harbor Tunnel, its submarine subway tiles shining wetly in the dim yellow lights. Keep up Speed Keep up Speed Keep up Speed we chanted along with the reminder signs posted every hundred yards or so. Back then, the pay off of those trips was always a visit with our grandparents, or one of our beloved aunts and cousins, which was a very grand reward indeed.

Today I made that journey in reverse on my way to a family vacation in Maine, and it was impossible not to note all the usual landmarks. Oh the highway is wider, and tunnel has been updated, and there are two spans to the DMB now, and there's no longer a Hot Shoppe at the rest stop in Delaware, but the name of that river is still the same.

0630

Tomorrow's ETD and...

yes,

my birthday!

The van is packed.

Let the wild rumpus begin!

Things You'd Rather NOT Hear...

...ever, much less 36 hours before your vacation:

"This is going to be an awkward conversation..."
"Neck to toe for 12 to 14 hours..."
"EVERYTHING in VERY hot water..."

Things you can't do anything about:

See above.

Watching the Grass Grow

The key for me to a happy summer is to try to do something I consider worthwhile every day. That can be harder than it sounds, but so far I've been successful. For example, on Saturday, I planted wheat grass in a little pot on the deck for our cat, and today it's nearly 2 inches tall. Now that's what I call measurable progress!

This is Happening

Even though it is technically summer vacation, I attended a required 2 hour workshop today. Our school system is providing iPads for all students in grades 3 and 6, and so their teachers have to be trained. This particular session was advertised as a very basic, first step, and so it was, although I definitely learned a few things.

Don't get me wrong. I've wanted more access to technology for my students since I started teaching. I understand what a powerful tool it can be. I don't know if this is the way I would have gone about it, but nobody asked me.

Perhaps most importantly, the management approach of our senior administration was evident in the presentation today. One of the slides actually said that there were to be no "buts"-- we were categorically instructed to move ahead with the expectation that things might be rocky at first (Ya think? Handing 400 dollar toys, I mean tools, to thousands of 8 and 11 year olds...), but it would all work out in the end.

And I'm sure it will.

Did I mention? I got my own new iPad today.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

We were all a little weary, Treat, Heidi, and I on Saturday afternoon after unsuccessfully attempting to see two movies. We were hungry, too, and with some time to kill before our third try, we stopped into a Chipotle Restaurant. Heidi and I had never actually eaten in one, but I have heard very good reviews from kids and adults alike. Treat concurred, and I knew there would be a vegan option for Heidi.

And so there was. In addition to beans and rice and veggies, the chain is rolling out its tofu sofritas nation-wide, and this branch had them as a featured item. As it turned out, the three of us went for that menu item, in its taco form, Treat with soft wheat tortillas, Heidi and I with soft corn. Our meal was delicious (if a little high in sodium), so yummy in fact that tonight?

My own version of it is on the menu.

Buen provecho! 

An Offer We Couldn't Refuse

One of the many joys of summer vacation for us is going to the movies. In fact, we go to so many that sometimes there's really nothing we want to see. This year, though, after a particularly busy spring, we're starting the season with a longer than usual list.

Yesterday we saw the new Tom Cruise-Emily Blunt picture, and the gray skies this morning had me looking up our next show. Imagine my delight to find The Godfather playing in three places. Regular readers may recall that this is one of my all-time favs, but I have never seen it in the theater.

Until today, that is. Even after watching this movie countless times, or maybe because of that, I felt a thrill when the lights when down and those first violin strains sounded as the title, stark white on black, flashed onto the big screen.

And? Two hours and 55 minutes later I was not disappointed.

Worth Counting

Before they packed up all their pencils and binders for good, last week I asked my students to calculate how many pages and books they had read since September. It's an annual tradition, and sixth graders almost always find their numbers amazing; it's as if they had no idea they were capable of such achievement.

This year students in my classes read an average of exactly 5,200 pages each, with a high of 19,456 and a low of 1,001. On average they finished 26 books a piece. Compared to the past, it was not a stellar year, but the requirement is only 3,800 pages, and they surpassed that by 37%. In addition, I would say the figures show that these kids as a group were workers: very few failed to meet or surpass the minimum expectation.

As an interesting frame of reference, I had one student who read nothing but the Harry Potter series. Her numbers? 4,194 pages, and 7 books, of course.

Fair Trade

I finished up at school a little earlier than Heidi today, and so I sat quietly in my classroom and waited. It was all packed up for the summer-- all surfaces clear and bookshelves neatly wrapped in white butcher paper. The blinds were drawn to conserve energy, and I was still enough to fool the motion sensors into turning the lights off.

As I sat in the silence of the cool dim room, I calculated how much time I had actually spent there. Added all together it came out to over three solid years. No wonder I feel so much ownership of it; thank goodness I feel so happy there; it's hardly surprising that it's always a little bittersweet to leave for summer break.

A couple days ago, one of the students asked me how big my garden was. I thought for a moment, and looked around. "It's almost exactly the same size as this room!" I told her. We were both kind of impressed by that. This afternoon, I remembered that conversation, this time as I stood in my garden, puttering around on the first day of summer vacation.

Consensus is Over-rated

This is the time of year for educators that practically demands reflection and reminiscing.  Students move forward; colleagues retire or move on: everything seems to rush to so many endings. At the party I attended yesterday I stood with three other women as they remembered their earlier days in other schools. One told the story of a principal who, faced with the choice of adopting an earlier start time for the school or sticking with the status quo, called a staff meeting and asked for a show of hands. When the earlier time was the clear winner, she shrugged and said, "Well, I'm going to make an executive decision. We're staying with 9:05."

And that was it.

GST: Garden Standard Time

Our end-of-the-year party was held this afternoon at the home of a colleague. After all the speeches and tears for our beloved retiree, folks stood chatting in small groups, I with our hostess. At noon today, our area was the hottest spot in the country, but a few hours later that back yard looked very inviting, plus I wanted to pay a visit to my tomato plants. "Can I see your garden?" I asked at a lull in the conversation.

It was a popular request. Eight of us stepped out into the still very warm late afternoon shade. Turning to our right, we started at 5 and made our way counter clockwise around the serpentine line of garden beds that hug her straight fence. Roses, lavender, thyme, hostas, peony, lilac, day lily, peas and beans, tomatoes, peppers, lettuce, basil, salvia, delphinium, echinacea, butternut squash, zucchini, cucumber, and cilantro brought us back around to 6 o'clock, which it was, so I made my farewells and headed home.

Crowd Control

What to do with three days left in the school year when all your students know that their final grades were due yesterday? Hmmm...

Well, you might find yourself, a bit shrilly but also with convincing authority, informing them that, Those grades were submitted with the expectation that you would continue or exceed your present level of academic performance!

And you conceivably could add (nonchalantly, but with crossed arms to accompany your shrug), I would more than happy to march down to guidance and making any changes necessary.

And then? Wide-eyed compliance would probably be yours.

Mostly.

Happy Week

Nothing like the last week of school to galvanize everyone into trying to fit everything in. Just today, there was a baby shower and then a happy hour after school. Wednesday will be the end-of-the-year staff party. Thursday is another after school gathering for a friend who is moving on to another school, and then Friday night there's a dinner for our retiring assistant principal.

I do believe my dance card is full.

Good Deed for the Day

At 10 am the place where I like to get my coffee was packed, which was hardly surprising on a beautiful Sunday morning. We had set out on our errands early, but there were still two more stops to make. After circling twice without finding parking, I dropped Heidi at the door and continued the circuit. My next trip around I saw that she had run into a former student's parent and they were deep in conversation, as they were the next time and the next time, too. I was on the back stretch of my third or fourth lap when a man on the street called through my open window. "Excuse me, ma'am? Are you looking for a parking space?" Across the way Heidi was still yakking, so I nodded. "Well," he said, "our car won't start. If you have jumper cables and you're willing to help, you can have the spot when we're through."

I assured him that I was willing to help whether I got the space or not, but he and his wife flagged off many would-be parkers as we pushed the car out, and I made a three-point turn to face it on the street. He made quick work of the jump start as his wife stood resolutely in the spot. As he wound up the cables and put them back in their bag, their six-year old daughter presented me with a micro bouquet of flowers she'd gathered from the grassy strip along the sidewalk while we worked.

Once I pulled into the space, they waved their thanks and drove away with a cheerful wave. Before I could get out, the passenger side door opened. "Let's go," Heidi said. And we did, leaving the parking space to the lucky driver that happened to come along next.

Last and First

On the last weekend before summer break I spot the first firefly of the season.

Hey universe, I like your timing!

Centurion Pride

Another hundred day writing challenge has come to a close, and this year nine students made it all the way to the end. In a tradition I have come to cherish, several wrote, unbidden, about their pride in the accomplishment. Here is what some said:

Dear Writing Challenge,

You have made me a way better writer. I think that it is so cool how you challenged me to write every day about different topics. You made me cry, laugh, and celebrate, but it was all worth it because I have finally written 100 days... WHHOOOOOOOOOO! I am so proud of myself for sticking with it even when I didn’t want to write. My brother did it so this kind of runs in my family. I still am in shock that I have written 100 days. It is so crazy and I am going to go tell Ms S. right now.
Sincerely,
Lucy

Dear 100 day challenge,

Thank you for helping me become a better writer. I greatly appreciate it. You are super awesome. I am amazed at how fun this was. I loved this challenge so much and it was really fun. Thank you for doing this.
Centurion,
Kayra


Dear Ms. S,

Thank you for teaching me the joy of writing and the stories it can tell. Thank you for allowing me to become a better writer through Write Here Write Now. Thanks to you I have made it all the way to 100, and have become a centurion! I will never forget the impact you have made on my writing.
Sincerely,
Andrew

That Works

My after-lunch class was working diligently to finish up the typed drafts of their personal profile pieces when I looked out over the lot of them and felt my heart swell just a bit. They have been one of the most memorable groups I've ever taught. At times polarized in terms of ability, and then re-polarized in terms of motivation, and then polarized again in terms of energy, it seemed like there was never any middle ground with this class. And yet, almost all of the lessons and activities I planned worked beautifully with them. Somehow, despite their nutty antics and loud voices, they were able to capitalize on the strengths of any grouping and bring out the best in each other academically. And now here they were, working quietly trying to get their profiles of each other just right. "I'm going to miss you guys!" I blurted out.

Oh! I should have known better, because of course the room erupted in a chaos of retorts, equally sincere and snarky, and it was several minutes before I could get them settled down again,

because that's who they are.

Foreshadow

There was thunder rumbling in the distance when I stopped at the garden on my way home tonight, but after being away all weekend, I just wanted to check in on it. The padlock on the gate was sticky, and I had to shove it up and yank it down hard more than a couple times, but once in, the garden was like it almost always is, so green and so quiet.

How different this spring has been than last! Warm, but not too warm, rainy, but not too rainy, and where last year we had not a single tomato before August, tonight I was thrilled to see not only blossoms, but actual fruit on several of the plants. The squash vines are starting to spread through the rows as well, and the sunflower? It's over three feet tall. The place is full of flowers and berries and...

weeds! They love this weather, too. I spent perhaps 15 minutes tidying up and pulling a few of those unwelcomes, and then, knowing there was more to do but that soon there would be time enough to do it with dirty fingers and the taste of early raspberries in my mouth, I jiggled that recalcitrant lock open and then spun it closed and headed home.

Priorities

It was our annual talent show after school today, and I have to say that the rise of TV talent shows (think America's Got Talent, The Voice, American Idol, etc.) has certainly boosted the popularity (and variety) of our little production. Today we were treated to a couple hybrid gymnastic-dance routines, some singing-- both acapella and accompanied, a Bach cello piece, an awesome yo-yo routine, some comedy cup-stacking by an actual cup-stacking world champion, a lovely violin-guitar duet, and of course, a rendition of Don't Stop Believin'. 

The bravery, earnestness, and talent of these middle school kids is so amazing and moving (and funny!) that I wouldn't have missed the show for anything, which is probably why I totally spaced on the leadership team meeting I was supposed to attend...

In the Field

One thing I like about our end of the year field trip to an outdoor adventure park is that, since the activities are run by their professional guides, my role is really to observe. I get to watch the kids interact and try to problem-solve with their peers. Who will be leaders? Who will be connectors? Who will opt out? As well as I know them after a whole school year, there are always surprises.

I also get to play a little. Today, before I went zip-lining myself, I clipped each of the kids in my group into the safety line at the foot of the ladder, but not before we snapped a souvenir selfie.

Twelve pictures later, I have indisputable photographic evidence as to just how hard I was rocking that safety helmet. 

The Old Lady by the Fire

"Hey!" I said. "Who are you calling an old lady, Jonah and Ben?"

Jonah giggled, but Ben looked confused. He and I had never been introduced, but earlier I had chatted with his parents at length. "How do you know my name?" he demanded.

"Oh, I'm so old I know everything," I told him.

"No one knows everything!" he assured me.

"I'll prove it," I said. "Your name is Ben. You're seven years old. You're in first grade, but not for long... Wednesday is your last day of school."

"Did you hear me talking, or something?" he guessed.

"No," I answered, "but I also know you don't have any brothers or sisters, but you do have a puppy named Biscuit, and before you got him? His name was Richard."

He frowned. "How old are you, really, anyway?"

Cause for Celebration

I was sitting by the fire enjoying the darkening sky. Josh's graduation party was entering its ninth hour and going strong. In many ways it had been an idyllic day of family, friends, and fun. A gang of cousins and neighbor kids ran through the yard in their swimsuits, playing in the wading pool and squirting each other with pump guns. Folks came and left for other graduation parties and came back, floating inside and outside, eating and drinking and eating some more, tossing bean bags at the corn hole boards. Guitar, ukulele, harmonica jams popped up here and there mingling with the laughter and shouts of the kids, now with ice pops, now roasting hot dogs over the fire for their dinners. And now here I was, enjoying a tiny bit of quiet in the continuing whirl. Two small boys slammed out of the house and ran my way. They were on a mission to find an adult to supervise s'more making. In the dark, they didn't see me until they were almost there. "Look," cheered one to the other, "there's an old lady by the fire! Yay!"

Snark Attack

You might think that an educator, any educator, would be one to appreciate the ceremony, symbolism, and pomp of a graduation ceremony, but I can tell you that you would be wrong.

And yet, people graduate, people you really care about, and there you are, at the ceremony because you wouldn't miss celebrating their accomplishments for the world. But there is still that part of you that really doesn't like graduations, and so you might find yourself fidgeting in a scratchy theater seat making small talk with one of your godson's other aunts while idly flipping through the lengthy program until you happen upon a roll of faculty that includes not just the high school teachers, but the middle and elementary school, too. You sardonically wonder out loud why they have all those people listed. "Well," says the aunt, "I guess it's like they all worked together to get these kids where they are."

Not so crabby now, are ya?

The Measure of All Things

After a long couple of weeks of standardized testing that kicked off with reading, the sixth graders finally took their last test, math, today. At the height of testing madness this morning, after successfully defending my computer cart from others and feeding the students breakfast since they would be quite late to lunch, but when no hall proctors could be found to escort the full-bladdered kids in my group to the restroom, and neither could the testing coordinator be reached to restart a test that failed to submit because the lap top switched wireless networks mid-test, I met the principal on my way to find help. "Are all your students finished already?" she asked.

"Yes," I told her and stepped forward, intent on my mission.

"Oh, by the way," she said.

I turned.

"Congratulations!"

I stopped, mentally groping for the accomplishment she was referring to. She must have seen my confusion.

"On your reading test scores!" she clarified. "Great job!"

I know I managed a smile. "Thank you," I replied and continued on.

Respite

It's the busiest time of the school year, and I worked wall to wall all day with a big pile of work on my desk when I left and some more in my bag to work on when I got home, BUT at 5:30 when I drove past the garden I did not resist the urge to stop. After just fifteen minutes outside in the fresh air weeding and watering, mulching and marveling at the amazing progress my plants make even when I am not there, I felt restored and I continued home to work some more.

Doppelganger

Twilight Zone:

Tonight I shall talk to you about glorious conformity... about the delight and the ultimate pleasure of our unified society... you recall, of course, that directionless, unproductive, over-sentimentalized era of man's history when it was assumed that dissent was some kind of natural and healthy adjunct to society.

We know now that there must be a single purpose! A single norm! A single approach! A single entity of peoples! A single virtue! A single morality! A single frame of reference!

Wikipedia article on PLCs:

When teams learn together there are beneficial results for the organization. It becomes the team, not the individual, that is viewed as the main learning unit. High-quality collaboration has become no less than an imperative.

It is time for everyone to be pointed in the same direction and working on the same agenda! None of us know what all of us know!



Or is it the other way around?

That's a Thing?

This time of year is a bit of a Sargasso Sea of television for us. Regular season shows have had their big finales, but summer shows have yet to debut. Oh, in a week or so, our TIVO will be full of more options than we could ever watch, but I confess to doing a bit of channel surfing my way out of the doldrums over the last few nights.

I was surprised by the several things of interest I found... Anthony Bourdain, the 1960's (!), and Morgan Spurlock on CNN alone. But the most intriguing show of all was the one about tree houses on Animal Planet.

Forgive me if I'm way behind on this, but Pete Nelson and the other Tree House Masters have stolen my TV heart! 

Seek and Ye Shall Find

I can't think of a better way to spend a beautiful Sunday afternoon than zig zagging through DC chasing the answers to a series of goofy puzzles with my nephew, Treat. He and I were among the folks who attended the first ever Post Hunt back in 2008, and it's been an annual tradition since.

Say that the puzzles were easier this year if you must, but we actually solved the end game, and we were only a couple of minutes behind the winners. The weather was gorgeous; the company was great, and so despite the crowd (that neither one of us likes at all), it was a very good day.

In fact, it was everything I was looking for.

Bossy

You ain't seen nuthin' til you see your cat go and get your dog to come for dinner.

Day On

I stayed home from school today to work on the school magazine. While I believe in the value of publishing art and writing, and (full disclosure) I do receive a stipend for the project,  it is nevertheless a huge time burden at this very busy point in the school year, and I inevitably end up taking a day off to finish it.

So, knowing I would be spending a lot of time on the computer today, I decided to set a timer to remind myself to get up and move around. Every 22 minutes I did 10 flights of stairs, a hundred crunches, 30 jumping jacks, or... ate a snack. Although I had to endure the strange looks the cat and the dog gave me, and to be honest, sometimes I ignored the timer, in general I could tell I was a lot more productive than I would have been if I had worked straight through.

Noted.

Please Return to Sender

The hundred day writing challenge is down to its final fortnight, and this year we're wrapping it up with the Gratitude Challenge. All students are invited, but not required, to post some thank-yous to all sorts of people in their lives.

When I introduced the activity earlier this week, the inevitable question in each class was "What's the prize?" My answer was that I thought they would find that the challenge itself was rewarding, and I encouraged them all to give it a try. If you send gratitude out into the universe, you never know what you may get in return.

Some scoffed, to be sure, but a handful of kids are participating, and their writing has been lovely and sweet. Even the most minimalist of the bunch has turned some heartfelt phrases. Some letters, too, have been wrenching, reminding me even at this late date that there is so much we don't know about the children in our charge.

Here's an example:

Dear sister,

Thank you for always caring about my mom and I. I know you haven't seen mom ever since you were five, but look at you, twenty years old. Thank you for sending me the El Salvador soccer shirt. I know El Salvador is not good at soccer, but I root for them. I sorry you have to get surgery on your wrist. Make sure to take care for our brother, Omar.

I hope I see you soon,

Carlito.

Sounds Good

The end of the school year finds my students writing journalism-style profiles of their peers. In the past, this has been a very successful assignment, partially because most kids like talking to each other, especially about... themselves. Just last week one student told me that me he felt like laughing and crying at the same time because he loved this project so much. Okay, he might be an extreme case, but the kids do like this work.

Many human interest profiles begin with a lead anecdote, one or two paragraphs describing the subject in action, doing something essential to the angle of the piece. It's sound practice to give students examples as models of what they're trying to achieve, and so today I shared the lead anecdote that a student wrote last year in a profile of me:

Tracey walks straight into her kitchen after a day of work. She preheats the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and then pops in the part of her meal that takes the longest: the potatoes. Then she turns to make the rest of her meal: kale salad fresh from a farmer’s market, roasted portobello mushrooms, tiny roasted grape tomatoes, and toasted almonds. Once the mushrooms are brushed with a sprinkle of olive oil, soy sauce, and pepper, she slides them past a blast of heat that welcomes her as she opens the oven, and onto the oven rack. She chops the tomatoes and adds them to the oven. When the mushrooms and tomatoes are done, she sets them to cool as the potatoes finish baking. Ms. S. then whips up some olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and mustard dressing and adds it to the kale salad. When the potatoes have reached their finest, she removes them from the oven and adds some quickly-melting butter, then combines all the oven-cooked delicacies together. She crumbles blue cheese on her salad and is finished with her typical dinner.

Pretty impressive for a sixth grader, eh? And I'll tell you what else; after hearing that passage read out loud four times today, you can bet what I made for dinner.

Of Course it Did

That cheesy special-effects, someone's-shaking-a sheet-of-metal thunder, flicking-the-lights-on-and-off lightning, and pouring-buckets-from-the-boom rain storm that we had a little earlier?

Oh, it's all my fault. Even though the skies were threatening, I just didn't believe "scattered" thunder showers meant us. So, me of little faith busted out of work at 4:30 so I could water the garden.

Sorry!

Vegan Picnic

In the spirit of the traditional Memorial Day cook-out, our menu is this:

Potato salad with a miso-mustard apple cider vinaigrette
Bean salad with mint and cumin
Burmese ginger slaw
Corn on the cob

And for the carnivore?

Throw a free-range pork chop on the grill.

It's going to be a good summer!

Hot and Cold

This unofficial first weekend of summer brings so many opportunities and choices. For example, after working in the garden for a couple of hours this afternoon, I couldn't wait to jump in the pool. But then, after standing on the first step of the pool for a couple seconds?

I could wait.

Honor Roll

Washington, DC
Memorial Day 2014

For the second time in as many weekends I found myself seated on a folding chair under an impossibly blue sky as a wave of names washed over me. The names rose and fell on voices broken and strong, and a light cool breeze blew puffy white clouds both over and away from the warm sun as a line of people patiently waited for their turn on stage. Today, though, there were no diplomas; they were volunteers who stood silently by until it was time for them to climb the single step to the podium and read the names of 15 of the 6,717 service men and women who have been killed in action since 2001, and rather than celebrate their futures, we honored their sacrifice.

Miracle Grow

Oh how happy and proud I was today to share a dozen of my grown-from-seed tomato plants with a few colleagues who expressed interest. Our garden is nearly full, and so all the spares I had got to go to other good gardens.

My hopes are high!

Role Model

"Is there writing club today?" Madeline came by to ask this morning.

"No. We had it last week," I told her. "It's only twice a month."

"But..." she was speechless for a rare moment. "Can we please have it again this week?"

Madeline is a great kid, and I can tell the end of middle school weighs heavily on her. I knew I'd be there after school. "Well, okay... if you can get at least five other kids, it's a go." I gave her the thumbs up.

"Yes!" she replied. "I know I can do that!" And off she went to round up her fellow writers.

With wide eyes, the sixth graders in my homeroom watched her disappear through the doorway and then looked at me; they were clearly a little surprised at the passion (for writing! of all things) that they had just witnessed.

But all the better for it, I think.

Big Fish

How fitting that when we called the restaurant to order a gift certificate for Heidi's dad that they told us he had just left. Happy Birthday, Gar! Enjoy the next few fish fries on us!

Bon Mot

I have a student this year who is super intelligent and very hard-working. She is in all the advanced classes we offer at sixth grade and has been on the honor roll every quarter. And yet, I know from working with her, that there are some gaps and glitches in how her brain works.

For example, she is a native English speaker but she often must grasp for even common words in both speaking and writing. The way she asks is very round-about, too. "What do they call that thing?" is how she usually starts, and then she laughs, sheepishly acknowledging her vagueness.

Today she asked that question twice as she composed a quick 150 word personal narrative. The first time she described a "glass box for snakes or turtles."

"An aquarium?" I tried, but she looked doubtful. "A tank?"

"Yes!" She went back to writing.

A little while later, she asked about an object that "You use it when you're, y'know, and it looks like this..." Here she paused and drew a quick sketch of a rectangular shape with what might have been a handle. "The floor..." She trailed off, but one of her classmates came to her rescue.

"A dust pan?"

"Yes!" she said.

At the end of the lesson she volunteered to read her piece, and it was a really, really good story about how she and her mom and sisters rescued a bird from their cat (using a dust pan) and then nursed it (in an aquarium), until one day it was able to fly away on its own.

I did have to laugh a little at how it started, though: We were cleaning the house, and my mom was brooming.