Night Vision

The weather gang was clear: the day would start out toasty for November, but in the afternoon a gusty cold front would drop the temperatures considerably. Even so, at 2 PM we decided to take our chances and head out to Mount Vernon, our house guest in tow.

Indeed, the golden autumn sun had given way to threatening skies when we bought our tickets, and we opted for the last tour of the mansion of the day so that we might beat the storm and still have a chance to explore the outside property. The wind steadily rose as we made our way around the farm raining brightly colored leaves down upon us.

Fortunately the rain held off, and we entered George Washington's home at about quarter to four, the heavy door to the new room blown closed behind us with a bang. I have been to Mount Vernon countless times and in every season, but I realized as we climbed the stairs into the dim second floor hallway that I have never been there in the dark.

And at 4 PM in November with a gathering storm overhead? It was very dark this afternoon. There is no lighting in the mansion except for a few 25-watt bulbs in fake candle-style wall fixtures, and for just a moment as I passed through one of the chilly upstairs guests rooms, the 21st century scales fell from eyes, and I got a real glimpse of the home that Washington held so dear.

An Animated Conversation

At the end of another nutty week in middle school, a few teachers were standing around swapping stories about student antics this afternoon.

"He was dead set against going, until I told him we were watching Wallace and Gromit in class today, and he literally spun on his toes and raced toward the classroom," somebody said. "It was like he was a cartoon!"

"Y'know, his expressions and gestures are kind of like claymation," I noted, "I wonder if there's a subconscious connection?"

"Somebody told me his dad looks like a character from The Flintstones," a younger colleague told us, "but the reference was totally lost on me. It was the alien guy or something?"

"Gazoo?" I said. "His dad looks like Gazoo?"

The young teacher laughed and shrugged. "I know Fred," she said, "but that's about it."

Our other friend couldn't really place the little green guy, either.

"Don't feel bad," I told them, flashing back to the countless hours of my childhood spent with Fred, Wilma, Barney, Betty, Dino, Pebbles, Bam Bam, and Mr. Slate, not to mention The Royal Order of the Water Buffalos, Stony Curtis, Ann Margrock, the boy scout jamboree, and the castle at San Cemente running in the background. "Unless you've put in the time, Gazoo is a pretty deep dive." 

Did She Really Just say That?

It was about 5 o'clock yesterday when a colleague poked her head in my door to say good-night. "I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself," she told me. "Since my husband is home today, I was able to stay a little late and take care of some things."

I nodded. "It's kind of nice to be here when it's so quiet," I agreed. "You really can get a lot done."

She frowned. "But it's good to have a reason to go home, too," she said. 

I shrugged.

"Like you, before your dog died," she added. 

I was silent.

"But now? You just stay too late, and you probably don't even get that much done. Have a good evening!" she finished.

FAQ

All my students took district-mandated benchmark test today. Kids today attack such standardized tests with gusto, but generally in the spirit of getting them over with. I set this particular assessment up to have a download password so that when everyone was at the screen from which they could proceed no further, they were forced to turn their attention to me.

It was then I was able to answer the questions they may not have known they had and to give them the pep talk they probably didn't think they needed.

Questions:

Is this part of our grade?
If not, why are we taking it?
How many questions are there?
Do we have to finish today?
Did you make up this test?
What do we do when we're done?
Can I get water, go to the restroom, or otherwise take a break during the test?

Pep talk:

The password is, "Show what you know!"

Undeniable Claim

In my experience, mentioning the word "essay" to students has never been a popular move. 

BUT... 

This new writing method we're piloting calls the genre "argument." 

AND... 

Friends? 

It seems that students are very motivated to learn those skills.

Group Effort

I'm running a book group for girls who are struggling readers during our new intervention period. At the beginning of the session I brought some books that I thought they might enjoy, but they ended up choosing a novel that is very popular right now, but somewhat above their level. I agreed to their selection, because I figured that with high interest and my support, they would be able to read and enjoy the first book in a series that many of their peers were talking about.

When we started, I had not read the novel myself, and that was okay, too, because I wanted to be engaged as a new reader with them. Well, that was the theory, anyway. I'm not sure I would have continued much beyond the opening chapters if it weren't for my commitment to the group, and I know several of the girls felt the same way.

For them? The exposition, where the author introduced us to a world several hundred years in the future was too hard and confusing. The setting was both familiar and alien, and as weak readers, it was hard for them to distinguish between what was realistic but unfamiliar to them and what was pure science fiction.

To me? The book was a little too predictable, particularly because of the conceit of the series where most characters and much of the plot are based on fairy tales. But the conflict between our experiences has turned out to be the key to our constructive conversations as they point out what confuses them and I show them the blatant clues.

And? I'm almost through with the second book of the series. How bad can it be?

Yumsters

Four of us middle-aged folk Ubered over to Union Market early this afternoon for a fun foodie event called "The Emporiyum." (Get it?) There were all sorts of fine locally-crafted eats and drinks to sample and buy, and Heidi, Bill, Emily, and I enjoyed ourselves quite a bit, even though we were somewhat older than the average patron. In fact, our culture-diversity made it much easier on us-- whenever I wanted to spot a member of my tribe, I needed only to scan the sea of hipster black and gray to find that one orange sweater, pink t-shirt or blue denim blouse. (We still looked cool, though!)

Until Next Time

The golden light of this November morning seemed to sharpen the edges of everything as we headed west. We had an appointment with a breeder to meet some dogs and see some puppies on the chance that we might like one from a future litter.

The place was out in the Blue Ridge Mountains, about 2 1/2 hours away, and as pretty as the countryside was, I was a little nervous when we pulled up to the hundred-year old brick house and barn. There were several people gathered on the side lawn, among them three little kids and a puppy wagging and weaving their way in and out of the group. It was a classic scene: the young family was there to pick up their newest member, and their excitement warmed any chill from the autumn air.

Next was a retired couple there to meet their 5-week-old springer-doodle, even though he wouldn't be ready to go for another three weeks. Last was us. Since we had no puppy in reserve the owner just showed us around the yard and introduced us to a few dames and sires, giving us a general overview of expected litters in the near future. Finally, we went into the puppy kennel where she brought out a couple of already spoken for pups.

I felt a sharp pang as I cradled one of them close to my chest and looked into her sleepy brown almond-shaped eyes. With a teeny sigh she relaxed in my arms; her little pink petal of a tongue slipped daintily up to her nose as I rubbed her soft ears.  I did not want to let her go, but she wasn't mine to keep.

Comfort Food

We had some neighbors over for dinner tonight, and the little snap in the air along with the week's political disappointments made our menu seem just right: chicken potpie, salad, pumpkin mousse and sticky gingerbread with cranberries. Plenty of beer and wine, along with a few rounds of Quiplash made for a warm evening of laughter and friendship, and everyone was feeling a little bit better by the end of the night.

It's Not That Complicated

As Heidi and I were walking out of the building this afternoon one of her social skills students ran over. He skidded to a stop about four feet in front of us, alarm on his face.

"Ohhhhhh," he said to Heidi, "I didn't know you were with that woman!"

I pushed my sunglasses down my nose and looked at him curiously. While I don't teach him, he is on our team, and I know him quite well.

He was focused on Heidi, though. "Is she your daughter?" he asked her.

"No!" she answered. "This is Ms. S. You know, from the Dolphin Team?"

I removed my sunglasses completely.

Confused, he took a closer look. "Then why are you walking together?" he asked, and then suddenly his face brightened. "Wait! Are you two friends?"

Blue State Blues

I confess that I did not sleep well at all last night, and when I finally rose this morning, I was dreading the day.

The pouring rain in the gray dawn of this morning seemed like an appropriate contrast to the brilliant sunshine and autumn-colored promise of yesterday. It was also appropriate that the lesson in my English today was on composing belief statements in support of our upcoming essay-writing unit. Not surprisingly, our diverse student body had plenty of belief statements to go around today, and they really wanted to talk about them.

"What did you think of the election?" they asked me.

"I was surprised by the results," I said neutrally.

"Were you sad?" They were definitely looking for an ally or an enemy.

"I know a lot of people were disappointed," I answered, silently counting myself among them, "but a lot of people were happy, too."

And then I shrugged, thinking of myself tossing and turning last night as my phone glowed with update after devastating update. Could it really have been fewer than 24 hours ago that I was hoping the other side would turn their attention to what unites us rather than what divides us in support of a Clinton administration? Could I do the same now?

"I'm open-minded," I told them, "and I hope for the best."

Sweets for the Sweet

It was a teacher workday today, and with no students the building was very quiet. Late in the afternoon a colleague stopped by with her 4-year-old grandson. He has a bit of a reputation as a terror, and he definitely knows what he wants. "I want some candy!" he said.

"No," I told him.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "That's not a nice way to ask," his grandmother said.

He grabbed a basketball and made for the mini-hoop I keep in my room. "I want to play basketball!"

"We don't have time for that," his grandmother replied. "Can you put the ball away and ask nicely for some candy?"

He moved closer to the basket, and I raised my eyebrows and made eye contact with him. "Nobody can have candy if they don't follow the directions," I said gravely.

"Can I please have some candy?" he tried.

"What did your grandma tell you to do?" I asked him.

He quickly put the ball away and stood nicely at attention.

"Would you like some candy because you did such a good job following directions?" I asked him.

He chose a little DumDum with a smile, and the two of them went on their way.

Later on, I saw him in the office, and he ran over to me. "I want to hold your hand!" he said and slipped his warm little hand right into mine.

"You hardly know me!" I teased him.

"But you have candy and basketballs," he said, "and you're nice!"

Two Thousand Zero Zero

I was dreamin when I wrote this

We got TSA Pre-Check on our boarding passes for the flight home this afternoon. But at 4:30, the Buffalo Airport was far from hopping, and I shrugged off our good fortune with very little appreciation. "It would take us like ten minutes to get through the line," I grumbled.

So sue me if I go 2 fast

It wasn't until we got through the cordons to discover not a single soul ahead of us that I understood our luck.

but life is just a party

The TSA agents were literally standing around, and with no shoes or jackets to remove we practically danced through to the other side of security in seconds. It wasn't long until my euphoria gave way to nostalgia, though. I could easily remember a time when these measures were not necessary.

and parties were not meant to last

Polishing Up the Rust Belt

We drove by some ginormous houses this morning on our way to brunch at a new, hipster restaurant I read about online. Buffalo, like so many rust-belt towns, has endured some very hard times over the last 40 years: mills and factories have shed thousands of what were formerly solid, blue collar jobs that allowed workers to comfortably support their families, and a majority of young people have moved away from the contracting economy.

Over the last few years, though, small signs of a tiny turn around have become more and more evident. Some tech start-ups, state grants funding a huge solar panel plant, a rise in reputation of SUNY Buffalo and a new medical corridor have reinvigorated the area in many small, but meaningful ways. The waterfront has been restored with restaurants, museums, bike and paddle boat concessions, and an open-air concert stage. Old mills are being converted to cool loft condos, and the traditional ethnic and comfort food that the town is rightfully known for, fish fry, wings, pierogies, char-broiled hot dogs, beef on weck, kielbasa, sponge candy, and handmade donuts has been joined by some micro-breweries, healthy fast-casual joints, and some new restaurants like the one we visited today with menus that can compete with some of the places near us at home.

Oh, the food was a little disappointing, but the place was still fun. On the way home, I used a real-estate app to price properties in real time as we rolled past them. How about a 7-bedroom, 3 1/2 bath, 4100 square foot Victorian with finished studio within walking distance of the zoo, Olmstead's Delaware Park, and Frank Lloyd Wright's Darwin-Martin House for 329,900.00?

A Grain of Salt

We were on our first Wegmans run of the Buffalo weekend when an older gentleman in a motorized cart rolled up. "Excuse me ladies," he said, "I'm hoping you can help me."

"Of course," I replied, and prepared to reach an item from the upper shelf behind him, I was surprised when he continued.

"My daughter gave me a pot of chicken chowder," he made a circle with his hands. "Her neighbor was nice enough to make it for me, but it's so bland..."

I nodded sympathetically.

"She is a chef!" My mother-in-law pointed at me. "This is your lucky day!"

He nodded, unimpressed. "I added pepper to it," he said, "but it didn't help. And," he paused before delivering the kicker, "I'm on dialysis, so I can't have salt."

The mystery of the bland soup was suddenly much easier to understand.

"The soup part is like water, so I was thinking of adding bouillon or canned chicken broth," he said. "Would that fix it?"

"Those both have a lot of salt," I told him, considering a variety of solutions-- herbs, lemon juice, Parmesan cheese, and trying to figure out the best match for him. "Maybe you could strain out all the chicken and vegetables and cook the broth down until it's more concentrated and flavorful. Then add the other stuff back in."

He frowned. "Would I have to cook canned chicken broth?"

"No," I shrugged. "It's ready to heat and eat."

 "Thank you," he said politely, and then giving us a courtly nod, rolled away down the aisle toward the canned soup.

Best of Three

A pair of sisters, former students both, appeared in my classroom this afternoon. "Ms. S!" they cried. "How are you?"

It was good to see them, and I know my smile told them so.

"Guess what class I'm taking?" asked the older. "AP English!" she told me before I could guess.

"Nice!" I high-fived her. "You're going to crush it!"

"I have a 94!" she said proudly.

"I'm in intensified English," her younger sister boasted.

"All right!" I high-fived her, too.

"Do you miss us?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, of course," I answered, "but I do have your little sister to carry on the family tradition."

"Do you like her?" the younger girl asked.

"Oh my gosh! Yes!" I said. "I feel lucky to have had all three of you in my class!"

"Who's your favorite?" they wanted to know, but of course I didn't say.

Just earlier in the day, I had a funny exchange with their sister. Our reading classes change teachers every quarter, and so next week her group was moving on. "Oh, but you'll still have me for English," I told the class. "You're stuck with me for the rest of the year!"

"Good!" she said, "because I just want to put you in my backpack and take you to seventh grade with me! You are the best teacher ever!"

How could I pick a favorite from those three?

I'll Be Glad When It's Over: Reason # 496

Maybe that unknown caller will stop ringing my watch every single weekday at 10:20 AM.

(If I weren't busy teaching, I could probably tell them I already voted!)

Throwback Wednesday

We have had some network issues in our school system over the last couple of days which rendered the students' iPads practically useless. "What are we going to do today?" my first period class came in excitedly moaning. "We can't use our iPads!"

"Sit down, kids," I said, "I want to tell you a story..."

They settled expectantly in their seats.

"Long ago," I started, "people used to grind up trees and press the pulp flat into this thing called paper! Today we are going to use that."

There to Here and Here to There

"What are you doing here?" a student asked me a couple of weeks ago when  he saw me at a store.

"I'm shopping!" I told him.

"What are you doing here?" the same student asked when he saw me in another part of the school.

"I'm meeting with other English teachers!" I told him.

"What are you doing here?" the same kid asked me as I walked down to the bike share station.

"I'm going for a bike ride!" I told him.

"What?" the same guy did a double take when he saw me outside the school office a while later. "You're everywhere!"

"So are you!" I told him.

Don't Leave Home Without It

I've learned that taking a break and getting outside during the school day will usually improve my productivity, and so today, when I finally completed setting up my account for the free bike share membership they are giving school employees this year, my brain break involved hiking up to the nearest metro stop, picking up my key, grabbing a bike, and riding on back to school where I dropped it off at the rec center bike station.

Round trip? 45 minutes.

Clearer head? Priceless.

Wonder Woman

Since I don't have any children of my own, creating Halloween costumes has never been a necessary skill.

I think I stepped up quite nicely, though:

Pokemon Go Away

I recently read that Pokemon Go is waning in popularity. Personally, I'm not surprised. I lost interest in the game within 48 hours. And yet, as we strolled through the packed FDR Memorial on this gorgeous October afternoon, we noticed that granite walls, tumbling falls, bronze statues, and inspirational words were all forsaken by a vast parade of people focused solely on their smart phones.

"Wow! There must be a lot of Pokemon here," I said to Heidi.

She turned those big blue eyes at me and arched her eyebrows meaningfully. "Ya think?"

Off and On the Clock

I had my annual physical today, and so I took sick leave. That meant that I was at school until 6 yesterday evening pulling everything together for my students and team today, as well as preparing for Monday. Even so, I brought home a heavy bag full of papers to grade and books to read in anticipation of the next unit of the new writing thing we're piloting.

Everything went fine at the doctor, and when I got home Heidi and I walked to a nearby community center to cast our in-person absentee ballots. (We will be in Buffalo the day before the election, and lord knows we've been stranded there before!) On the way back, we stopped at the garden where we were surprised by at least 10 pounds of tomatoes, eggplants, and peppers ready to pick.

Once home again, I checked my email and messages and ended up spending the next three hours working on school-related correspondence, which included several emails, 2 newsletters, and three surveys (you can imagine my candor). I got up to stretch at 5 PM, and wondered where that day "off" had gone.

The Sorting iPad

It spilled over from home room.

"What Hogwarts house are you?" asked one of my students. "I'm always Hufflepuff no matter what!" she continued in frustration, 'I want to be Gryffindor."

I shrugged. "I'm probably Ravenclaw," I said. "Not to brag, but I am pretty smart," I winked.

"You should take the quiz right now!" she said, and so I did, quickly clicking through my choices of animals, leisure activity, Triwizard Tournament challenges, artwork, and so on.

"I'm..." I looked at her with raised eyebrows, "wait for it... wait for it... Gryffindor!" I announced in my best Sorting Hat voice.

She gasped, and we were still talking about it when the class changed. First period is reading, and most of the students were very interested in our conversation. The Harry Potter series is definitely regaining popularity with my students, both with the release of the Cursed Child and the fact that these sixth graders were too young to enjoy either the books or the movies the first time around. It really seems to be proof that the series is a classic.

"Can we try it, too?" several kids asked, and in a split second decision, I decided that it was an engaging activity somewhat related to reading. Even the students who were unfamiliar with the series wanted to take the quiz, and then they had lots of questions about the books for their friends who had read it.

Some kids tried taking the quiz more than once to rig their results, and their analysis of the questions and how they related to the houses of Hogwarts was pretty high order thinking. I quickly added a discussion question to our Google Classroom: What house were your sorted into? Do you think it was a good fit? Why?

Even as they compared their answers and results, one of the items on the quiz was of particular concern to one boy. If Death offered you a reward for outsmarting him, which would you choose? The options were the Resurrection Stone, the Elder Wand, and the Invisibility Cloak.

"I would always pick the stone," he told several people, "because what if something happened to my mom? I would never want to live in this world without my mom!"

"You should tell her all about the quiz when you get home," I suggested. "I think she might like to hear about it!"

And... Action!

With a lesson that revisited action verbs and how their use might make a writing piece more powerful, it became clear that there was a gap in some students' understanding of that part of speech. We had read a wonderfully gross example of personal narrative by Jack Gantos, and so I asked them to pull out a few vivid verbs that they noticed, but after teaching the lesson twice, I knew that my right-after-lunch group that was heavy on boys and energy might not appreciate it fully. And so I enhanced it on the fly.

"Find a great verb in context," I directed them, "and then have your writing partner read the passage and pause as you act out the verb. Remember: verbs are actions!"

There was a buzz in the room as sixth grade writers revisited the story to find the perfect verb. A few hands waved, and when I went to see what they needed, their questions were very similar: How do I act out "puke-smelling" or "private" or "special"?

"You don't," I told them each, "because they're not action verbs."

"Ooooooooohhhhh," they answered, a glimmer of understanding shining in their brains.

See what I did there?

We All Look Alike

After a day at the corn maze and farm, the kids were a little punchy those last twenty minutes they sat in our classrooms waiting for dismissal. Everyone had a lovely little pie pumpkin, and some students occupied themselves with decorating theirs with markers. Once he had a silly face on his, one student turned his pumpkin to another's. "I'm so stupid I'm going to vote for Donald Trump," he had the pumpkin say.

"Hey now!" said the sixth grade counselor who happened to be standing by, "Tell your pumpkin that nobody's stupid here."

"Who are you going to vote for?" the student questioned her.

"I can't tell you," she said.

"Clinton," he shrugged.

"Teachers really are not allowed to tell you who we support in the election," I told him.

"Clinton," he said to me.

"Why do you think so?" I asked.

"Because you even look like her!" he answered. "You two could be sisters!"

There's the Difference

The whole sixth grade is going on a field trip tomorrow. It involves 346 kids, 40 adults, and both me and Heidi. Because she has been mostly 8th grade in the past, the two of us don't usually take the same field trips. And, since I'm in charge of packing lunches, it was only natural that she asked me what we were having. 

"I usually bring a ham sandwich," I told my vegan wife. "It packs well and tastes good as I stand there supervising a hundred children or so."

She frowned. I shrugged.

"I was planning on sending you with a roasted cauliflower wrap, though," I disclosed a little later than I could I have.

"Yum!" she said.

"And, we're going to stop at the grocery store on the way home," I continued.

"What for?" she asked.

"It's a field trip," I answered, "we have to have special snacks!"

When I was a kid, my mom packed our lunches full of delicious homemade food, but we did not always appreciate it. Instead of blond brownies, oatmeal cookies, and milk, I was looking for Tasty Kakes and soda pop. The one exception to our nutritious lunch rule was on field trip days. Then, we were allowed to pick a store-bought treat and a can of soda to take along with us. (The soda went in the freezer the night before where it became both beverage and ice block to keep everything else fresh and cool.) I always chose a cherry pie and cream soda, but I have to confess that they were never as good as I thought they would be, and it was kind of a relief to go back to my regular lunch the following day.

Even so, I carry the idea to this day that field trip lunches should be special, and so I always bring a sandwich, some fruit, a bag of store-bought cookies, and a big bag of chips. The last two are to share, both with kids who don't have any treats and some of those who do, because it brings people closer to actually share a meal.

I explained my philosophy to Heidi as we shopped, and she picked up a couple of bags of Milanos and some Fritos to go with my Biscoffs and Cape Cod waffle chips. When we got home I started to put those items aside, but she grabbed the Fritos and opened them up. "Hey!" I scolded her. "You can't have those! They're for the field trip!"

"Who says?" she answered crunching on her snack. "We have a whole bag!"

Probably Not

The Billy Goat Trail out in Great Falls, MD was kind of a rite of passage for our older nephews. Starting from the time they were toddlers, we frequently took them rock scrambling on the first part of the trail, gradually increasing the length of the hikes over the years until that magical day when they were ready to do the full circuit. But because dogs are not allowed on the trail, it's been thirteen years since Heidi and I have done the route ourselves, and so, continuing our practice of doing things we wouldn't do if we had a dog, we headed out there this morning.

Perhaps a beautiful Sunday in October was not the best time to revisit this particular old haunt; it is one of the most popular outdoor activities in the region, and the tow path was already packed at 11:30 when we turned our boots toward the trail head.

But, as we walked, conversations drifted through the air with the falling leaves.

I heard you're going Euro-skiing... 

The plane exploded at the neck... 

I sent my revisions in Friday...

He hasn't actually said he wouldn't accept the results...  

I think Shakespeare said it best...

And we heard so many languages along the way-- English and Spanish, of course, but lots of Italian, some German, Russian, Swedish, Chinese, Korean, Urdu, French, and I think Greek, too.

So we patiently scrambled along behind and beside and between our fellow hikers, enjoying the views that the slower pace gave us the chance to take in. People were mostly friendly, and we snapped a few group photos for folks as we waited to rock-hop across a congested section. 

The worst bottleneck of the day was at the famous 50 foot traverse. As we stood at the bottom waiting our turn to climb the granite wall from river to ridge, I looked up at the line ahead of us and back at the one behind us, and my patience began to thin.

"Oh my gosh!" I said to Heidi, "This must be what it's like to climb Everest!"

Unexpected Behavior

Heidi teaches kids who are on the Autism spectrum, and so around here we talk a lot about social skills and social thinking. Two of the big buzz-phrases in that field these days are expected and unexpected behavior, which are used when talking to people who have difficulty reading social skills. The theory is that analyzing behavior and reactions to it in these terms allows those folks to intellectually process what others can do so intuitively.

Not surprisingly, Heidi also wanted to see the new movie The Accountant, in which Ben Affleck plays a guy on the spectrum, and we finally made it to the show this afternoon. It was a very entertaining movie! Mostly because of the plot twists, that to be honest?

I did not see coming.

Now that's unexpected behavior!

Calling Shotgun

A colleague I know slightly politely interrupted our CLT meeting this afternoon. "I have a question," she looked at me, "but it's personal, not professional. Do you mind if I take a minute?" she asked the other two teachers.

They nodded readily, and I could see they were intrigued, as I was also.

"How do you get to Buffalo?" she asked me, and I must have looked surprised, because she quickly continued, "Heidi says it's easy, but I should ask you."

My friend Mary laughed. "I'm sure Heidi does think it's easy! If you're her, you just get in the car and let Tracey drive you!"

Back to Synecdoche

"Tell your partner how you got your name," the facilitator said. "Is there a story or significance behind it?"

I looked at my colleague. "Well," I told him, "my mom wanted to name me Marcy, but my dad grew up in upstate New York."

He frowned. I continued.

"Back then, the state psychiatric hospital was in a town called Marcy. So when he was a kid, "going to Marcy" was the equivalent of going crazy."

He nodded. I shrugged.

"And that's why my name is Tracey, not Marcy." What is that figure of speech called where the specific stands for the general? I thought. Marcy is totally an example of that.

"Where was your mom from?" he asked me.

"She grew up in Maryland, but she was born in..." I did a little double take to myself. "Schenectady!"

He looked confused. "She wasn't there long enough to know about Marcy," I told him, but my mind was elsewhere.

Schenectady, synecdoche?

I think I might be able to remember that!

The Pen and the Sword

I would never say that I am an expert on the English language, but after 54 years of hearing it, 53 years of speaking it, 48 years of reading it, 12 years of learning it, 6 years of studying it, and 24 years of teaching it, I might call myself an experienced practitioner.

Even so, my spell check just told me to correct that last word from practionor. It happens! In fact, although I am able to address almost all of the grammatical and vocabulary needs of my sixth graders, I am unfamiliar with at least a third of my word-of-the-day calendar entries, and sometimes, when researching resources to use in my class I find myself in a little bit of deep water.

Oh, I can tread away, dear reader, but one must recognize her deficits if one expects to improve. Take the term synecdoche, for example. The first time I came across it on a list of figurative language devices, I had no idea how to pronounce it (sin-eck'-doh-key), much less what it meant. Once I learned that it was the practice of representing something by one of its a parts, like Washington, for the U.S. government, John Hancock for a signature, or suits for guys in charge, I understood the term, but I'll be darned if I can remember it to use in conversation.

It's on the tip of my tongue, though.

I Just Called to Say...

My phone rang unexpectedly at around 4:30 this afternoon. It was my 8-year-old niece on facetime, and I punched the accept button right away.

"Hey!" I said. "What's going on?"

"I called you..." she paused, "well, just because I wanted to!" she told me.

"That's awesome!" I said. "I'm still at school," I sighed, looking at the stack of papers I was going through to put in my gradebook. "How are you? How was school for you today?"

"I'm fine!" she answered. "It was good!"

"How's the puppy?" I asked.

"Good!" she smiled.

"What about the weather?"

"Really nice!" she nodded. "Oh well, if you're at work, I'll let you go!"

"Okay," I agreed. "Thank you so much for calling! I miss you!"

"I miss you too!" she said. "I'll talk to you soon!"

"Love you!" we both said as she hung up.

No Purchase Necessary

I confess that at times I dream of striking it rich in some implausible, the-odds-are-totally-against-me, kind of way. That's why I opened the email from PCH tonight. I'll just scroll-click scroll-click scroll-click right through, I told myself. And who knows? In a month or so? I may have 10,000 bucks a week coming in. Wouldn't that be fun for Christmas?

But that's where those marketing geniuses see me coming! On the very first page I had to stop and take a closer look at an item.

      Transform your toilet into a soft, gentle night light!

      Bowl Light™
      Fits most toilets!
      Adjustable Brightness/Adjustable Dimmer
      Say goodbye to glaring bathroom lights in the middle of the night!

      Motion-activated LED light automatically casts a soft glow
      The soft light doesn’t wake you up and turns off automatically after 45 seconds!
      Set to one of your 7 favorite colors — red, green, purple, aqua, yellow, white and blue
      Color-Cycle Mode automatically changes to next color for each use!

      Requires 3 "AAA" batteries, not included. Made of abs plastic, polyethylene,
      pvc, tpr rubber, silicone, wiring. Measures 2.05" L x 2.56" W x 4.13" H.
      Bowl light™ will only turn on when in a dark room. Please consult instructions prior to use.

      4 PAYMENTS EACH ONLY$3

No way! I thought.

And no way! it was as well for the Bacon Boss, the Handy Heater, and the Angry Mama Microwave Cleaner. In fact, the more I saw, the easier it got it to just scroll and click. 

And now? 

I am in it to win it!

Flipping Out

Over the years a lot of crazes have swept the sixth grade. Back in 1973, when I was in sixth grade, everybody wanted Duncan yo-yo's and Wacky Package stickers. Twenty years later, when I first started teaching, it was baggy pants, slap bracelets, and gigapets. Ten years after that there were heelys, iPods, and silly bandz. Today? Flipping water bottles is the go-to.

Why not? We encourage kids to stay hydrated, and that means a water bottle in every hand. Drink half, and then accept the challenge to land that baby upright on...

the floor,
the desk,
your binder,
the floor, through your pants
and so forth

What's a teacher to do?

Just walk the dog, pull up your pants, roll on over to that group of kids, grab the water bottle, flip it into the trash can, and start your class.

Phantom Dog Pain

Our neighbor's away this weekend and we are caring for her dog. Lady is a little temperamental: for example, she chose not to stay at our house last night. Instead she stood by the door and beamed us a message through her one good eye, something like, Why would I sleep in this house? I can practically smell my bed from here. 

To be honest, that makes her even easier to look after, especially since she and our cat are not on speaking terms. I just walked through the courtyard to take her out this morning, and as I opened the front door, she hopped down from the couch and stretched. I clipped her collar and leash on and we headed up the stairs and across the parking lot to the wooded hill. I had made the same trip a thousand times with Isabel, but this was the first time I had made it with a dog since we lost her.

And that made me really sad.

Problem Solved

Give a kid an iPad, and he'll be able to catch his own dinner.

That's pretty much the theory behind our district's one to one initiative. For the last three years every 2nd and 6th grader has received an ipad, and every 9th grader has been issued a Macbook Air. As teachers? Our instructions have pretty much been, Use the devices to enhance instruction, but be sure to give the students some latitude to innovate.

I get that philosophy. I may be an immigrant to this brave new digital world, but I like to think I have assimilated quite well. And although it's tempting to focus on the inappropriate of the innovations (accessing non-school material during class, airdropping all manner of things to other people within Bluetooth range, and finding several ingenious ways around our school restrictions, to name a very few), let me tell you: those kids impress me with their creative uses of their devices all the time.

Why just today, a group of students was doing a skit for reading. "Do you have a speaker?" one of them asked me.

"You can hook up to that one," I told her, but one of the other girls in the group waved me off. "Never mind," she said, "we can use our iPads."

And what they did next was kind of amazing. Their sketch took place in the woods, so all three students pulled up audio of birds and then placed their devices in different places in the room. The skit was pretty good, but the surround sound was stunning.

I Don't Know

Student after student raised a hand in my reading class this morning. They were working on a standard read-and-answer-the-questions assignment from a text book (Oh! I know what you're thinking! BUT we will do something cool with it tomorrow!), and the same question was stumping reader after reader:

Why does the author use the pronoun I throughout the story? 

I was shocked to discover that none of them was familiar with the term pronoun, but I made a note to return to that concern later and quickly explained what a pronoun is so that they could answer the question.

One guy was even more confused by my explanation, though. Wait!" he interrupted me. "How is backslash a pronoun?"

Makes the Dream Work

We are implementing a new writing program this year, and it has been haaaard work. The upside is that I agree with the philosophy, which makes a mandate considerably less onerous, but it is really hard to tailor one's teaching to somebody else's vision (especially after 23 years!). Still, I soldier on, and it is a blessing to be working in this endeavor with a colleague I like and respect. (Hi Mary!)

I thanked my lucky stars for her yesterday when I was suffering from a crisis of faith and feeling overwhelmed and unsuccessful. After giving me a little pep talk, we talked through our plan for today, and she created a crucial piece of the lesson.

AND... I was happy to return the favor this afternoon when following a great lesson, I was able to clearly see the road ahead and talk her through it.

Now that's a collaborative learning team.

Holiday Mash-up

A Jewish friend of mine has a birthday tomorrow.

In all her years, she told me recently, her birthday has never coincided with Yom Kippur. "They're both great," she said, "but I'm not really excited about it."

"Really?" I asked her. "What's not exciting about the words Happy Birth Day of Atonement?"

Ten Miles

There is no upside to losing your dog, but Heidi and I agreed that in the time before we get another puppy, we will try to do things we might have otherwise skipped because they didn't make sense to do with a dog. So it was in that spirit that late this morning we set off on a walk from our house to Old Town Alexandria, about 3 1/2 miles away.

It was a perfect fall day, and once there we had brunch and shopped our way down to the river and back. We told ourselves we would Uber home if we needed to, but in the end we just kept on going, and in 22,000 steps, all told, we were back home.

Leftovers

"What are we going to have for dinner tonight?" Heidi asked a little earlier.

I paused to think about it a minute. "I don't know," I shook my head. "I already cooked everything yesterday!"

Small Plates

The day dawned gray and rainy, but honestly? I didn't care! It was the first day of a long weekend and I had plans to do some serious cooking-- tonight was Emily's family birthday party. I chopped and diced and seared and braised and blended and baked and steamed and pureed and strained and whisked and sliced and stewed and finally, when the rain let up, charred my way merrily through the day before sitting down at the table with Heidi and Emily and Bill and Victor to a very nice meal, if I do say so myself.

Small Plates Menu:

Warm Olives

Feta

Moroccan Yogurt Dip with Cilantro

Ciabbata and Pita Chips

Beet Carpaccio with Dill and Walnuts

Charred Octopus with Potato Pepper Puree and Tapenade

Braised Lamb Shank with Mustard Marscapone Sauce

Seared Tuna Shawarma with Pickles, Turnips, and Tahini 

Rice and Lentil Pilaf with Currants

Stewed Green Beans

Roasted Cauliflower

Dessert:

Baklava Cheesecake

Pistachio Toffee Chocolates

Small Moment

The interpreter arrived a little early for my next conference, and since there was nobody else in my room, I invited him in to wait. He was a friendly guy; introducing himself as Julio, he walked around the perimeter of my classroom as if it were a gallery.

"Look for small moments?" he read from an anchor chart, and then gazing up he read from the banner above, "How can we become better writers?"

"I love writing," he told me, "and this is good advice. There is so much meaning in the small moments."

I nodded agreeably, "That's what I tell the students."

"Do you mind if I take a picture?" he asked.

"Not at all," I answered.

He moved to a poster with an Ethiopian proverb. "When spider webs unite," he read, "they can tie up a lion!" He snapped another photo and turned to me. "What a fantastic message for your students! Small things together create greatness."

"Thanks, Julio!" I replied.

Next he read the series of posters from the Academy of American Poets that hang over the bookshelves in my room. Each April the organization releases a new one in honor of National Poetry month. "Nature is a haunted house," he read as he clicked another picture, "but art is a house that wants to be haunted."

"Emily Dickinson," I said.

"Wonderful!" he said. "It goes perfectly with the small things and small moments idea. Think how many miracles we overlook every day! You are teaching your students to stop and notice them, to see all the miracles all around them!"

Am I? I wondered and looked at another quote I had scribbled nearby.

Hope is a thing with feathers.

Da Nada

I admit that I was a little cranky this afternoon as I waited well after my contract hours for my first conference of the year. The halls were deserted and the light from the sinking sun was slanting into the west-facing windows when my student and her mom tapped on the door.

The fact is, teachers often suffer from a lack of professional respect. If I can't find a convenient time within the office hours of my doctor, lawyer, accountant, or dog groomer that works with the hours of my job, then I must take time off. If it's important, then I do. But teachers are often not afforded the same professional courtesy. We are frequently guilted into over-committing our own time because it is what's best for the students. And sometimes it undeniably is, but other times it's just a matter of your convenience over mine.

So anyway, there I was tonight, guiding an extremely poised 12-year-old as she explained her grades, study skills self-evaluation, academic goals, and community service interests to her mom, switching back and forth between Spanish and English for our benefit. All I did was answer some questions, encourage the student to stay after school for some math help, and compliment her on her achievements so far.

When the student got to the end of her checklist, the part that says Thank your parents for coming, she turned to her mother and said, "Gracias Mami!" And then she turned to me and said, "Thank-you for staying after school."

"You're welcome," I answered, and I really meant it.

Getting it Done

The assistant principal and director of guidance were standing by the door after school this afternoon just as I was busting out of one meeting trying to get halfway across the county to another in 12 minutes.

"Good luck with your presentation!" one of them called, and I must have made some kind of sour face when I thanked her, because she continued, "You'll be great!" and gave me a thumbs up.

Truth be told, my mind was elsewhere. On a day in the middle of a week that includes preparing sixth graders for their first student-led conferences, finalizing interim grades, planning for a major schedule change and additional class prep, stuffing all the business of an interdisciplinary team into 2 45-minute periods, and oh yeah, teaching, assessing, and planning, I was already way past worrying about that particular commitment.

"I know!" I waved as I pushed through the double doors toward the parking lot.

"I like a person with confidence!" I heard behind me as I went.

#Hashtag

One of the strategies we learned this summer to help young writers get to the heart of their personal narratives in terms of message, meaning, and why the story matters was to have them hashtag it. "Kids are familiar with that!" our instructor told us, and we agreed.

Well, this week I have had some #amusing conversations with my #sixthgraders. Understandably, not so many of them are even on social media, and so the concept is not quite as ingrained in them as perhaps originally presumed. #jumpingtoconclusions

The more concrete thinkers among them want to use the hashtag as a simple label, and that is completely understandable. #shouldaseenitcoming For example, a picture of a goldfish yielded #goldfish, #pet, #Nemo (with a sharp rebuke from the other students) and #thesnackthatsmileback.

"What about #dinner?" I asked.

"EW!" they answered.

"Don't you mean #ew!" I asked.

"Unless you're a cat!" someone suggested. And she was right, because hashtags certainly reveal your perspective.

Even so, most folks have kind of gotten away from the hashtag as a tool for thematic connection, and now it is really more of a witty addendum to a tweet or snapchat.

And yet the exercise of generating several quick labels for my own writing pieces really paid off. Like the kids, I started with the obvious, but with free association, I generally found the heart of my piece by the 3rd or 4th hashtag. To be honest, it was almost therapeutic.

For a sketch I'd written about an environmental club my sixth grade teachers started that was invitation only and which I had not been invited to join. I started with #stupidclub, moved on to #that'snot fair, and finally ended with #whynotme? And I realized that the reason it still bothered me after 43 years was because there is a part of me that assumes that I was rightfully rejected and still wonders why I wasn't good enough.

Hashtag that.

Slam It!

I must have spent a solid thirty minutes out by the car yesterday slamming and opening and re-slamming the back hatch. It just would not latch! I emptied the rear, moved the liner mat, and then removed it all together, used my electronic fob to mess with it, and when that didn't work, used the key itself to push the mechanism in and out of position. No luck! Activating the car alarm gave me the the three beep warning that something was ajar, as did the dash control panel. At last I gave up and returned inside to Google the problem, where I found that, according to the internet, this had never happened to anyone else, ever.


Whoa! An hour in, I knew I had to make a repair appointment, which I did this afternoon. The guy at the place I usually go for inspections and oil changes was polite, but there was just a hint of skepticism in his voice as we arranged for me to drop the car off after work. And when I walked in and told him who I was, his eyes lit up. "I've been waiting for you!" he told me. "Do you mind if I just go out there and have a crack at it?"

I shrugged. "Sure." I wished he could fix it right then, but I doubted he would.

He was back inside a minute, shaking his head. "Wow," he said. "That's a first for me!"

The Original

Oh! You have to see the original first! is what several people told us when we mentioned an interest in the remake of The Magnificent Seven.

We like to think of ourselves as movie buffs, and so we took that advice and cued up the 1948 classic, sitting down to watch it last night. In the opening scene, a gang of banditos descends upon a hard-working village. Their leader arrogantly mocks the citizens, justifying his outrageous trespass as their weakness, and promising to return when the next harvest is in.

"Oh my gosh!" I turned to Heidi. "He's Hopper from A Bug's Life!" We continued to watch as citizens from the besieged community went out to look for heros to save them (ala A Bug's Life), bringing back a collection of misfits (as in A Bug's Life) who ultimately help the village realize that they have it within themselves to be their own saviors (just like in A Bug's Life) all the while rescuing the rescuers themselves (also in A Bug's Life).

As for the original? Once the loooooooong opening credits were over, it was hard to believe that the movie was almost 70 years old, and it distracted me to think that nearly every single person I saw on the screen was dead now. Then there was the Bug's Life thing, which was also rather distracting.

Even so,  I'm happy to have that frame of reference, and I'll be interested to compare all three movies!

That Restorative Elixer

On a rainy day and suffering from some sinus congestion, I did what I had to do...

made chicken noodle soup!

I'm sure I'll be 100% in no time.