Breaking Trail

I slipped my sunglasses on at 7:30 this morning to walk the dog. The storm had stopped around midnight, the sun was shining, and not many folks were out and about yet. The driveway of our complex was squeaky packed powder with huge drifts completely covering several cars. Beyond lay vast expanses of unbroken snow, and that is where Isabel and I headed. First we visited the pool where 12 inches of snow were piled on the diving board and guard chair. Next we treked up the stairs to the elementary school whose unplowed acreage gleamed in the morning sun. The sky was heartbreak blue and the only sound was some cranky blue jays fussing in the holly bush. I looked at Isabel and I swear she smiled as I unclipped her leash, then we waded in, spumes of powder rising in crystal clouds around us.

Snowed In

Today was our friend and neighbor Lauren's birthday. Before the weather reports turned dire, some friends were planning on driving up from North Carolina, and she had reservations at a couple of nice places for drinks and dinner with a club or two after.

"Can your friends come next weekend?" we asked her when she was totally bumming out earlier in the week. "Because if so? We'll make dinner for you on Saturday. That way you can have two birthdays!"

She was appreciative and disappointed at the same time, but you can't fight history! One of the top five snowstorms of all time was bearing down upon us, so what could we do??

Have an awesome dinner party, that's what! We invited the neighbors, made some cute little cupcakes, cooked a nice meal, shoveled the walk, built a fire in the fireplace, and popped some champagne.

Cabin fever? What cabin fever?

Making Do

That's me: lying on the floor in front of the fire listening to an audiobook while bread bakes in the oven, soup simmers on the stove, and snow falls steadily outside.

We'll See

A steady stream of colleagues made their way to my classroom door starting on Tuesday, when news of the big storm potentially coming began to spread. "What do you think?' they wanted to know.

I'm not sure how I got to be the snow seer, but I kind of like it. 

'No school Friday," I predicted confidently. "And if it's what they're saying it could be? I'll see you in February!"

And Then Some!

In a year when there was doubt about getting any snowfall we are facing a blizzard warning for Friday.

I can handle that if necessary.

Drain Reaction

"Do you have How to Train Your Dragon?" a student asked this afternoon. "I want to read that next."

"I might," I told him. "Who's the author?"

He shrugged and picked up his iPad. "Hey Siri! Who wrote How to Train Your Dragon?" He did a doubletake at the screen and snickered. "She thinks I said How to DRAIN Your Dragon!"

"That's easy," said the kid next to him. "You just put his hand in warm water." The two of them laughed.

"Speaking of that," another student raised his hand. "Can I go to the restroom?"

Turning Point

Since Josh was admitted to the hospital last Sunday night I have not cooked a single meal; every evening has been eat out or take out. So tonight, when I pulled out the cutting board and knife, opened a beer, turned on the kitchen TV, and began to prepare a hearty soup to end this cold, cold day, I sighed, because for the moment? All was right in our little world.

Conversational Snow

"Look! It's snowing!" I said as we walked out of the movie theater this afternoon. 

"Did they say we were going to get snow?" Heidi asked in return. 

"Not the last time I looked," I answered, "but it's obviously not going to stick. Sure is pretty though."

"AND it's not rain!" Heidi noted as we turned to walk home. 

They the People

The other day at school a couple of eighth grade students made a presentation at our Leadership Team meeting. The gist of their proposal was to form a student advisory committee to the principal. Their rationale was that A) many students are intimidated to approach teachers with their concerns, and B) everyone knows that the student council elections are just popularity contests. They wanted the teachers to appoint a diverse group of students who could affect real change.

There was a polite smattering of applause, but I did not join in. When they left, the principal looked around. It seemed like she was all for the idea. I raised my hand. "I think this proposal completely disenfranchises our students. What about democracy? If we think that the SCA elections aren't working, then we should fix them."

There was considerable discussion after that. One suggestion was to institute a bicameral council, half appointed and half elected. I made eye contact with the social studies teacher across the room. "A House of Lords and a House of Commons!" we cried in unison.

In the end, there was not a final decision-- the administrative team put it on their agenda to discuss some more-- but our system of student-elected representatives was safe for another little while.

Who Knew?

It was nearly 8 pm when we left the hospital last night. Heidi glanced at her fit bit. "Wanna take the stairs?" she asked.

"Down?" I shrugged and pushed the elevator button. "What good will that do?"

"It will give us steps," she answered.

The elevator doors slid open. "C'mon," I said, "we can walk on the way down."

We had the elevators to ourselves, and we giggling as we marched in tight circles around the perimeter as we descended five floors.

"Whoa!" I gasped as we staggered out into the lobby. "Note to self: exercising on elevators will make you very dizzy!"

On Location

I spent the day in the hospital with Josh. He is in much better spirits, but there are a few health issues that must be resolved before he can be discharged. As usual in a hospital, he is at the mercy of the hospitalist, the specialist, and their busy schedules.

His parents, uncle, and girl friend are out of town, so part of my responsibility today was to update the group by text message, and for a while this morning I was flooded with questions that I couldn't answer until we saw the doctor. Josh and I were laughing that when he finally came in, we were going to make him do a live chat. 

"I'm going to say, "A caller in Colorado wants to know how to manage colitis with diet." I said. 

"Michelle from Pennsylvania wonders when the chest x-ray is going to happen," Josh continued. 

"A listener named Heidi asks how you know if the steroids are working," I added. 

"If we do that to him," Josh said, "we'll probably never see him again!"

Bank Error in your Favor

The text came around 5 am, just as our radio alarm began broadcasting coverage of President Obama's last SOTU address.

Fever of 106. He's getting some Tylenol and they're going to monitor his temperature closer.

I am no medical professional, but that number seemed high enough to Google immediately. What I read was alarming: hallucinations, seizures, brain damage. Oh no! Josh was in trouble! It seemed like things were going to get worse before they got better.

Heidi and I went into crisis mode immediately. We knew Kate, his girlfriend, had to leave today, so Heidi planned to get into school and make arrangements to get up to the hospital as soon as possible. I would prepare to take tomorrow off. We didn't want him to have to spend much time alone in the hospital when his condition was so serious.

At school, my mind was not on my job as I prepared for the day. Lots of texts were pinging in from all over, concerned with this turn of events. Then, around 8 we got one more message.

I think it was 100.6 instead (sorry I was half asleep). He says he's feeling alright.

I'm still taking off tomorrow, though. Treat and I are going to bring some games to room 518 and play!

Live from VHC

It had been a long day: at 5:30 pm the school day was behind us; Larry was on his way back to Colorado; Kate, Josh's girlfriend had slipped to our house for a shower and a nap; Heidi was roaming the hospital hallways trying to get her steps, and my phone was blowing up as I sat waiting in Josh's room for him to be wheeled up from his procedure. A nurse I had never met before came into the room. "Not back yet?" she asked rhetorically.

"Any idea when he'll be up?" I asked ignoring my phone's buzzing.

She gave me an appraising look. My phone buzzed again. I could tell privacy was on her mind. "And you are...?"

It was a question with a complicated answer. I shrugged. "His aunt," I started, and my phone buzzed. I laughed. "You don't don't have to tell me, " I said, "but people all over the country are waiting for an update." My phone buzzed on cue. "I'd hate to disappoint them."

"He was finished about 15 minutes ago. The hospitalist is reading his chart right now. If I had to guess, I'd say he should be up here by 6."

"Thanks!" I told her, and my thumbs were already going.

On Their Clock

It was nearly 10:30 when the hospitalist finally stopped by Josh's emergency room digs. A probable bout of colitis combined with exhaustion and a touch of the flu had brought him here via California, New York, Hershey, PA, and urgent care. He had been waiting for about six hours to see whether he would be admitted or sent home after some blood work, a CAT scan, and fluids.

"Oh, we plan to admit you," the young doctor said, "and with your symptoms, you'll get a GI consult and probably a colonoscopy. But we're actually pretty crowded right now, and it might be a while before we take you upstairs."

And when we asked about an approximate timeline for further tests and treatment? "It's hard to say," she shook her head. "We tend to move pretty quickly down here. They have a whole other time frame up there."

So maybe he'll be out by spring break?

Groomer Has It

After all he had been through-- bear attack, smothering, waterfall, starvation, infection, freezing, riding over a cliff, and spending the night naked in a horse carcass, Leonardo DiCaprio fixed those steely blue eyes on the captain. "I'm going with you," he rasped.

I leaned over to Heidi. "I hope he washes his hair first!" I whispered.

Walk On

It was a little disappointing when we walked down to the movies this afternoon only to find that our preferred film was sold out, but with no other shows of interest in the next couple of hours, we decided to turn around and walk home

cheerfully (!)

with a stop at 7-11 for a few Powerball tickets,

and a plan to watch Listen to Me Marlon on TV,

and 3787 steps.

The Chasm of Sar

It was a bit of a chaotic day in my English class today-- students were finalizing drafts, posting to our online classroom, and making sure they were ready for the word study quiz on Monday. For such a variety of activity to be successful, most of the students need to be self-regulated and on-task. On days like today, when I am trying to assist as many students as possible, my reminders are not always so gentle.

"Do you think I became a teacher so that I could tell kids to be quiet and get to work over and over again?" I asked with a slight edge of frustration the the third time I had to speak to one particular student.

The room was suddenly silent, and that bubble of self-righteous irritation in my chest deflated. I realized how silly I sounded.

"If so," I continued in a much kindlier tone, "then thanks for giving my life such meaning!"

Square One

I wanted to learn some picks and rolls on my new banjolele, and so I turned to Google. The instrument itself is still rather rare, but I found a few beginner pieces for ukulele and I printed them out for my first lesson of the new year tonight. My teacher was delighted and supportive as usual. He listened and even added chords to the basic sheet music.

And that is how I spent 20 minutes playing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star and Old MacDonald.

You better believe they were kick ass versions, though!

All Relative

It's amazing how balmy 35 degrees is after just 2 days of below freezing temperatures!

(Happy Birthday, Dad!)

That's What it's all About

Every year it seems like there is one English class out of the four or five I teach that is just a little more challenging than the rest. Lessons that work perfectly for every other group somehow fall flat for these kids; work that other classes easily complete is not so for them, and it's hard not to blame those students when there is evidence that my planning was sound.

This year it is the last class period of the day when things seem to go awry. As an example, yesterday, less than 4%, or 2 out of 55, of the students in my other classes forgot or did not complete their reading logs, but in that class? It was three times that many and ten times that percentage-- 6 out of 15, or 40%. The classes are randomly, heterogeneously grouped, so what's a teacher to do?

Well, the job is to teach everyone, not just the easy ones, and so I try to set aside my frustration and problem solve. As a group, they are a smart, energetic, but unfocused bunch of kids who all want to do well in school and learn. It is their last core class of the day, an hour after lunch and right before they head off to PE and electives.

I always include structured movement opportunity in my lessons, and today was no exception. We were doing an activity where they had to evaluate a piece of writing with a partner. It was set up like speed dating so that one or the other student would have to move after each question and work with somebody new. For these guys, I decided to up the ante.

"Vote with your feet!" I said when going over the answers. "If you think this was a summary, do the Hokie Pokie!" They all jumped up, waved their hands in the air and turned around.

Next question, "If you think this is synthesis? Give me 5 jumping jacks!" The room erupted in vigorous calisthenics.

And so it went, until it was time for them to settle down and apply the principles we had just discussed to their own writing...

in blessed silence.

Tabloid Fodder

On the first day back from Winter Break my sixth graders were pretty animated discussing what they had read over break. "I finished the Harry Potter series!" one student announced, and before I could even congratulate her she continued in a wail. "Whyyyyyy did Fred have to die??"

I shrugged sympathetically and opened my mouth to reply, but she kept talking. "And Tonks?? And Lupine?? They just had a baby!"

I nodded, and she kept going. "But Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione? Yay! Those are good couples!"

"Wow!" said the girl next to her. "I don't know anything about Harry Potter, but I feel like you're talking about the Kardashians!"

Rita Skeeter would certainly agree!

So Cranks the Machine

Those who know me well are aware that I am not an avid clothes shopper. What with ordering online and supplementing at Target, years have literally passed in between shopping excursions for me. That has not been so this year, however.

We started our holiday shopping on Halloween, when Heidi's parents were here, and believe it or not, we finished it today with the last of the gift exchanges and returns. I have to admit that I was shocked at how much more streamlined the stores had their merchandise displays. They seemed downright empty.

Gone were extra racks and tables that I assumed were permanent, and anything I had seen before Christmas that was still left had been moved to the back clearance section and replaced by fitness gear, storage bins, luggage, and spring clothing. It was shocking, but kind of impressive in its own way.

As the weather finally turns colder, I felt lucky that I didn't really need anything for winter!

Overheard at the Lincoln Memorial

We have keeeel-baaaa-see, York-shy-er pudding, and onion gravy, Hon-- just heat it up!

A New Year Wish

I had the New Years dinner preparations well in hand this afternoon when it came time to bread the chicken. The table was set, the black-eyed peas had been stewing and the greens had been braising since earlier in the day. The ham was sliced; the rice cooker at the ready, and water on to blanch the corn.

When I grabbed the homemade bread crumbs, I noticed a small bag of extra crumbs next to them and tossed them all together with some salt, paprika, and hot pepper. As I took the pounded chicken paillards from their buttermilk and egg bath and dredged away, a faintly familiar smell, sweet and cinnamony, wafted from the bread crumbs.

I froze a moment, eyes wide. Could it be?

Tasting a quick pinch confirmed my fears. It was graham cracker crumbs that I had added to my mixture. All was not lost by any means, and when I confessed my error to my brother, we briefly wondered if perhaps this might be one of those legendary accidents that become an amazing tradition.

Alas, the answer was a resounding nope, but it was nothing a little hot sauce couldn't fix. May all the mistakes of 2016 be so easy to remedy!

You Know You've Been away from Home a Little too Long When...

...Your cat gets laryngitis from yelling at you when you get back!

The Way Home

pack
load
hugs
gas station
trashy audio book
snowless ski resort
trashy audio book
gray mountains
trashy audio book
peppermint chocolate pretzels
trashy audio book
paper mill
trashy audio book
gas station
potty break
trashy audio book
fog...
trashy audio book
traffic jam
trashy audio book
rush hour
trashy audio book
home!

Puppy Dog Tails

We woke this morning to sunshine and blue skies, and so we wanted to make the most of it before we had to leave for our 1:55 flight. Since Richard had promised that today was the day when he would learn to ride a bike, four adults, two kids and two bikes rolled down the driveway toward Piedmont Park.

Our expedition took a detour when we spotted one of the neighbors over on the high school lawn with his three year-old son and their two brand new puppies. Dory and Nemo were 10-week-old chocolate brindle mastiff-poodles as cute and wiggly as could be. In the time we stopped, they scampered, rolled, nipped, and chased each other in the impossibly adorable way that puppies do. We were all too happy to applaud any peeing outside and/or trotting in the direction of someone calling them. 

Time was ticking away and we continued on to the park. Heidi fell into step next to me. "I love puppies," she sighed, and I nodded. Knowing that soon we would see our own 12 1/2 year old puppy slightly salved the sting of our eminent departure.

Rainy Days and Mondays

It seemed like the Christmas holiday came and went so quickly this year, and the sky was gray and drizzly as Bill, Emily, and the boys packed the car to head home this morning. A little while later fat drops splattered against the driveway as Courtney backed out on the way to the airport for Mom's flight.

The clouds darkened and rain poured in torrents for most of the afternoon, but our much smaller group made the best of it, playing Settlers of Catan and charades. Feeling a little stir-crazy, Richard and Annabelle and I dodged the raindrops when the storm let up a bit to shoot baskets and play HORSE, dashing under cover of the garage or back into the house when the patter became too steady.

Eventually it was too dark to play outside at all, but it was time for dinner. My sister had seen on Twitter that it was opening night of chef Ford Fry's newest place, Beetlecat, and so we decided to see if we could get a table. Despite The renewed downpour, luck was with us and the six of us enjoyed small plates of seafood crude , raw oysters, Thai shrimp, octopus salad, hot dogs, grilled cheese, lobster rolls, and the best calamari we had ever eaten. Courtney even caught a glimpse of Ford, and for the second time in ten days we felt like we had had the privilege of eating fine food prepared just as the chef wanted it to be served.

More than satisfied we stepped out into the evening happy to see that the rain had stopped.

Voyagers

'All I want for Christmas is toys and games," I told my family at Thanksgiving. I was only half joking, and my brother and his family were completely obliging. When all the ribbons were nearly rolled up and the gift wrap was in the recycling bag, I had a stack of new games under the tree.

Fortunately we are a family of game players (in fact I was not the only one who received some) and we have spent the last couple of days playing Exploding Kittens, 5 Second Rule, Foodie Fight, Settlers of Catan, Ticket to Ride, and Smart Ass. 

We can always count on Treat to read the directions and teach us to play even the most complicated game, and my sister, the lawyer, is a good second opinion if any questions about the rules come up. Today, as we were setting up Ticket to Ride, she told us that "the most experienced traveler" goes first. 

I scanned around the table, trying to figure out just who that might be. "Mom's not playing," I said.

'Right," my sister answered. "That means it's you."

I was flattered, because I like to think of myself as a seasoned traveler indeed, but in fairness I looked at my brother. "What about Bill? He travels all the time for work."

My sister raised an eyebrow at me. "I think that's just a polite way of saying the oldest player," she said gently. "Dont't you?"

And I might have agreed, had I not been choking on my coffee at the thought of it, which had never occurred to me.  

"I choose to take it literally,' my brother said, and made the first play of the game. 

Holiday Hijinks

What to do when it's 75 degrees on December 26? Nothing but play basketball, walk the Atlanta Belt Line, and replace our traditional roast beef with grilled rib eye steak. But don't worry-- there was still mashed potatoes and gravy, and plenty of cookies and Christmas crackers, too.

But this year we added a new twist to the tradition. Instead of reading the corny jokes from the crackers, we read the punch line instead, and everyone else guessed the riddle.

How zany is that?

Pair of Knaves

At 8 am on Christmas morning our flight out of Buffalo was so full that Heidi and I could not get seats together. The day before I had reserved two aisle seats, one in front of the other, and those were the ones we headed to as we boarded. I was a little anxious as I scanned the throng of strangers already seated to discover who would be my companions for the next hour or so, but my eyes lit up when I finally got to my row.

In a reaction I bet few other passengers might have, I turned to Heidi with a little fist pump. "Yes!" I celebrated, "I got some boys!" And I happily slid Into the aisle seat next to a kid who was probably in sixth grade and his slightly older teenaged brother. "Let's put this arm rest down guys," I started, and I knew we would be fine.

And we were. The flight passed relatively quietly as the boys first played games on their iPad and then actually got out some homework to do. When the kid next to me could not find the room for both his empty cup and his vocabulary book on his tray top table, he froze, glass hovering above workbook like a ufo. I silently held out my hand, took the cup, and placed it on my own tray. "Thanks," he said, picked up his pencil, and got to work.

Christmas Mystery Solved

A couple of years ago I realized that as extensive as my Christmas music library was, I did not have a single recording of Need a Little Christmas. This was on the heels of downloading Count Your Blessings to fill another gap in the collection. And this year it's There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays that is the new addition. How I've missed these standards is unfathomable unless you take into account one key piece of information: 

The Ray Conniff Singers never recorded them!

Lighten Up

Back when my older nephews were little, driving around town at this time of year always involved playing an amusing little game called I See Christmas Lights. There was a sufficient number of houses decked out that we could repeat the phrase enough times to be silly, but not so many as to make it ridiculous.

Here in Buffalo, though, it is a whole other world when it comes to holiday decorating: almost everyone has lights and lawn ornaments. That makes it kind of fun to take a simple drive or even a walk around the neighborhood. At first it's thrilling to see all the twinkle and glow, but it doesn't take long before I become more of a discerning critic.

First off, any use of inflatable figures is dismissed on the grounds of being garish and non-traditional. Laser lights are out for the same reason, although I did sneak onto someone's lawn to see how the speckles of light dancing across their home were being projected. I hesitated just a moment before thrusting my hand in front of the device-- aren't lasers supposed to be dangerous?

Next, inconsistency with reality is also a disqualifier. For example one house had a big Santa Snoopy right next to another smaller Snoopy on top of his festive dog house. No! There are not two Snoopys. Likewise more than one Santa in any given yard is a no-no. You can have as many reindeer as you like, but only one Rudolph, please. It's also acceptable to mix secular and religious icons; a crèche surrounded by giant candy canes? Why not?

I'm rather particular about light choices, too. All red? That's demonic, but all green is too leprechaunic. Those new multicolor LED lights offer intensity, but most have too much purple for my taste. Simply tossing a few strings of whatever at the bushes is never a good choice, nor is running out of lights half way around the garage door and just going with it.

When it comes to lights, I love the classic approach of following the roofline, and I prefer it when it's done with good old-fashioned strings of ceramic C9 bulbs. Whatever you use, though, please make sure your lines are crisp, bulbs at attention and all facing one way. Lights are not forgiving; in the dark of night a wavering line seems careless, and even those dangling icicle-style lights are on the border of pretty and pretty sloppy.

The classy restraint of simple wreathes and candles in the window seems like a good idea, but around here, it just can't compete. Those houses need a few light deer and white spiral trees to pull it all together. There are also quite a few lighted Santas en sleigh with reindeer, but to be honest, I want them on the roof! Never mind the prediction of 50 mph winds tomorrow-- why would Santa land on the yard?

I have to admit, though, that in the aggregate, all the lights in all the yards together really, really work for me. It's magical and I wouldn't change a single bulb.

I'm Your Girl!

I reckon that, in support of our school district's one-to-one initiative, I've set up a hundred iPads or so over the last year, not to mention the devices I've helped to troubleshoot, nearly on a daily basis. So when Heidi's dad asked me to assist him with his new iPad mini, I only had one thing to say.

When Middle-aged People Travel...

Food AND Friends

So often when you go to a hip new restaurant the staff kind of has the attitude that you are lucky to be there. Not so at Requin the other night. The pop-up is the brainchild of two Top Chef alums, Mike Isabella and Jen Carroll, and both chefs were working the kitchen when we got there. Not only was the food (Mediterrenean-inspired small plates and family-style entrees) outstanding, but the service was excellent. It seemed like everyone felt lucky that we were there, not just us. Our waiter even arranged for Mike and Jen to come out to meet us and pose for a picture. The place will have its permanent home down at the new waterfront development, and if they continue like that? They are sure to be a huge success.

The Force Awakens

It was early this morning when we lined up for the first show of the new Star Wars movie. A friend had been kind enough to offer us her extra tickets, and so we blearily rolled out of bed on the first day of winter break and headed to the theater. Even the icy wind couldn't wake Heidi up entirely. "Is that guy in a costume?" she asked, pointing to a figure in a long, brown hooded robe.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Either that, or he's a real Jedi," I said.

Have Fun!

Have fun with pants! has become the inside joke of my reading class this quarter. After every memoir they come up with a theme that fits that pattern:

Have fun with soup!
Have fun with bears! 
Have fun with sweaters! 
Have fun with brats! 
Have fun with death! 

Today I got one of the best teacher-gifts ever. One of the students in the class who is a witty writer and talented cartoonist gave me a comic book that he had created just for me. It's all about a giant squid who opens his Christmas present early. When he doesn't appreciate the pants inside, he lands on Santa's naughty list, but when Santa's pants are stolen he has the chance to redeem himself. Can he do it?

You'll have to read Have Fun with Christmas! if you want to find out!

It Can Wait Until January

My philosophy of the week has been tested by meetings, emails, and colleagues, but with one day left before winter break, I think I'm on pretty solid ground.

Packages, Boxes, and Bags

So, we were talking again today about the difference between a fan letter and a letter that tells an author how his or her book made some kind of a difference to you, the reader. One of the examples that students evaluate is a blatant fan letter full of praise and not much else for Dr. Seuss:

I have always read your books and love them dearly. It’s unbelievable to me that in your lifetime you wrote so many books that are so good. They recently came out with the movie, “The Grinch,” after one of your books. Your books are so funny! I love how you make up words instead of using plain words.

"That's definitely a fan letter," one of my students told me.

"I agree," I answered, "but what could the letter-writer do to make it more of a thoughtful correspondence?"

"Maybe he could say something about the Grinch," the student suggested.

"That sounds good," I said. "You know the story, right?"

He nodded.

"Well, what do you think the lesson might be?" I asked.

"Protect your stuff!" he answered without hesitation, "because the Grinch might get it!"

Scaffolding

While some students were finishing up their SRI test today others were working on an assignment to prepare for their next writing piece, a Letter about Literature. (It might be fun to click on the "Letters about Literature" label at the bottom of this post to review all I've written about that particular assignment.)

It was quiet, but there was a steady stream of students with questions coming up to my desk. At last it occurred to me to upload the text of the assignment and see what its reading level was. It came out to be a lexile of 980, which is nearly the median of sixth grade (925-1070). There were a number of students who were not yet reading on that level, however, and that pretty much explained all the questions.

For them this assignment, like many others in school, was doubly challenging: they struggled to read the content, and then they had to use their understanding to apply the information, evaluate the passages, and answer the questions. Teachers know that there will be a range of reading in any given class, though, and so we plan our lessons to accommodate everyone, as I did today. Students work independently, then in pairs, and then we check their answers with the larger group. That way everyone can access the content and concepts despite their reading level.

Even so, it surprised me today when a student approached me to ask about the task. "I don't understand what you mean 'give suggestions'," she pointed to her sheet.

"Oh, that just means that if you think it's a fan letter instead of a thoughtful correspondence, you should write some suggestions for changing it," I told her.

"But I don't know what 'suggestions' means," she said.

Ohhhh.

Scanning

My students took their mid-year SRI today. It is a reading "inventory" created and administered by Scholastic, one of the top companies profiting from education accountability and big data. Hardly surprising, they also have a math assessment which is called the SMI.

All these acronyms can be confusing to the students as they try to navigate to the right online test to take, but my kids? Are super-cooperative and always helpful to each other.

"Isn't the SRI for math?" someone called out today.

"Nope," his charitable classmate corrected him, "that would be MRI. You don't need the MRI."

True.

The Weather Outside

It's been quite a few years now, but one Christmas we went down to Florida where Heidi's brother lives. The two of us arrived in town a little earlier than her folks, and so we headed down to Key West for a couple days.

And the weather we are having here in northern Virginia right now? It's a little warmer than the southern most point of the continental USA was that December. What can we do, then, other than shuck our winter woolen wear and fire up the grill?

Done.

All through the House

What with the beautiful weather and the holidays looming, the theater was pretty much deserted this afternoon around four when we finally got around to see the last installment of The Hunger Games. I would be tempted to quote Clement Moore and tell you that not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, except that wasn't quite true. On my way up to claim my seat, a little guy scampered right past me. I don't know if he liked the movie, but I'm sure he enjoyed the popcorn spill beneath the seats on the next tier down.

Won't You Help to Sing

There was a light rap on my classroom door yesterday afternoon. The librarian poked her head in. "Do you have a minute?" she asked. I nodded and she sat down.

"Tell me about J," she said.

She is also the producer of what I like to call "my favorite show", the morning announcements, and I knew there had been auditions earlier in the day.

"Well," I started, "he's impulsive, and that gets him in some trouble, for sure, but he wants to do well."

"He didn't do poorly at the tryouts," she told me, but the faint praise made me brace for bad news. "Did you read his application?" she asked.

I had not. She pushed the rumpled sheet of paper across the desk, and I recognized his crooked scrawl. Under Why do you want to work on the morning announcements? he had written, Because everyone thinks I'm dumb and bad and I want to show them I'm not.

"How can you say no to that?" she asked rhetorically.

"You can't," I agreed. "When does he start?"

Mine

I have my writing group tonight. Mary had the great idea for each of us to write something for the Mine column in the Washington Post Magazine. The parameters are simple, Tell us what you treasure in 250 words or less, the task not so easy. Anyway, here's what I wrote:

I was the last one out of the demonstration garden today on our fieldtrip, and so it fell to me to latch the tool shed before following the students through the gate and over the tiny bridge. Before closing the door I stepped inside for a moment. It smelled like warm wood and soil with the slight tang of recently oiled metal. My eye ran over the hand tiller, hoes, and shovels, and I compared them to my own collection of gardening tools.

By necessity, my implements are few; as a community gardener I carry my gear with me. Of course I can use the common tools, but I have a few specialty items of my own. The most indispensable of them is the one we call the poaching spade. Compact, with a sharp, narrow, curved blade, it cuts effortlessly through even the hardest earth and is perfect for transplanting, which is a lot of what vegetable gardening requires.

The poaching spade came into my possession one Saturday as we helped my sister-in-law sort through and organize some of the contents of her parents’ house. It was the first spring since we had lost her mom, and it was also our first season in the garden. My sister-in-law’s parents were devoted gardeners, but the spade was barely used: the green paint of the blade was flawless, the oval Smith & Hawkin medallion on the shaft unworn.

“Take it,” my sister-in-law said, “it’s a good shovel.”

It sure is.

Caveat Emptor

Our school's annual book fair is going on this week. Each English teacher is asked to set aside one half class period to allow the students to shop. In addition to all the books, there is also a large assortment of junk, novelty pens and pencils, erasers in all manner of shapes, bookmarks, stickers, posters, bracelets, and key chains, and of course these are the items that attract the most attention.

Before we even set foot in the make-shift shop set up in the library, I have several reminders for the students:

1) Don't walk around and play with things unless you intend to buy them.
2) These are retail prices and some items may seem expensive; even so, try not to complain loudly.
3) Every book is not meant for every reader; please don't make a big deal about it if you find something that really isn't for you.

That's what I tell them, but today when one of the kids asked a harried volunteer about the price of a pen that has a little rubber poof ball on an elastic cord that pops off when you press a button, she said, "3.99" then paused and looked at him meaningfully. "Some might say that is a little too much money to spend on something like that," she continued.

Our eyes met. I smiled and shrugged. "But it POPS off!" I told her.

"Maybe that's why it's so POPular," she answered, and we both cracked up as the student dug around in his pocket and pulled out a five.

That's the Holiday Spirit

"I don't know if I would wear that Santa hat on our field trip to Mount Vernon," I said to a student this morning.

"Why not?" he answered. "It's fun for the holidays!"

I shrugged. "Well, you definitely shouldn't be wearing it inside the building right now," I told him.

"But it keeps my head so warm and toasty," he said.

"Ahhh," I replied, "both festive AND practical? That Santa knows what he's doing when it comes to head wear!"

He laughed and took it off. For the moment.

Score One for the Introvert

Heidi received a kind invitation from the family of two of her students, who are brothers, for a holiday dessert party. Unfortunately, the gathering is going to take place while we are out of town. It was an evite, and Heidi has no experience with those; it is I who handle most of our virtual social life. "What do I do?" she wanted to know. "Just click 'No'?"

"Yes, but don't worry," I told her, "you will have a place to make comments after you do that."

"Should I just say Unfortunately I can't make it?" she asked.

"Well, no," I answered. " Say something like, Thank you so much for thinking of me! It sounds like a really fun party, but I'll be out of town then," I suggested.

"Thanks!" she said.

"No problem," I replied. "I'm really good at turning down invitations!"

A Peril

Heidi and I are generally a very agreeable pair; there's not much we don't concur on. Dressing dogs in clothes is one of those few things: Heidi wants to do it, and I will not allow it. Over the years we have reached an informal compromise. For example Isabel has over a hundred collars, and she wears a different one every day. Isn't that a wardrobe for a dog? Lately, too, Heidi has been buying tiny hats and photographing all the dogs we know wearing them. That seems close to the line if you ask me, but no one has.

We passed all sorts of people and dogs on Roosevelt Island this morning as we walked its trails enjoying the balmy December day. One dog in particular caught both of our attention. "Look, that guy has a coat on," I noted as we approached from behind.

It was a smallish, short-haired little pooch. "He probably gets cold," Heidi replied.

"Whoa!" I said as we got closer. "It's also wearing some kind of dress!"

"Oh yeah!" Heidi nodded in appreciation as she spotted the frill peeking out from under the coat.

"My gosh!" I cried a second later. "It has pants on too! They're like bloomers or something!" I cringed. "It looks like a miniature version of the Big Bad Wolf dressed as Grandma!"

Heidi shrugged. "Layers," she said.