Buckle Up!

Since I was out of school today (#familyoscarholiday), one of the activities I left for my students was a little survey to gauge their interest in our up-coming writing challenge. With three options, required, reward, and full-on commitment, 48% are in it to win it. 22% are minimalists, and the other 30% are hedging their bets.

The data is interesting, but the comments explaining their choices are way better!

Definitely will:

I love to write so doing this is going to boost my writing. I also love challenges.
I want to go for 100 days because I want to push my self to my fullest potential.
Because I want the shirt.
I feel like this can improve my writing techniques to help me be a better writer
I might still thinking
I don't know exactly what it is but I will try to go all out.
I love writing and want it become a better author!
I think it will be a valuable experience and will help make my writing better.
I want a challenge
I will do it so my mom does not yell at me
I'm gonna try to write 100 days so my grade in english can go up.
I want extra credt
I might
I want to challenge my self
I want a t-shirts
I really want to challenge myself and I want to get fun prizes and a T SHIRT-!!!!!!!!!
I want to do the challenge because i want to grow as a writer and I don't think I will be able to do it so I want to prove myself wrong
I will try hard
Because I don't want to get a shirt but my mom she wants one so I'm going to do it for her.
I will try by best to do the 100 day challenge to the best of my ability
Because I want to
I do need a little writing help
I'm wanting to get the shirt and I already got a few designs in my mind.
I feel that it will boost my writing skills
I really want the funny t-shirts
I want to challenge myself in writing
I'm pumped and wanna get a shirt.
I want to get the cool shirts and get good at writing.
I want to do the 100 days but I'll probably not be able to do it
I'M SO PUMPED FOR THIS, I WOULDNT MISS IT FOR LIFE
I want to see if I can REALLY become a better writer and see if I can write everyday.
I am going to try my best complete the 100 day writing challenge
I think It will be a grI will do atleast 20 times and if I like it , I will do more.
It's hard for me sometimes to figure out what to write and I might miss a lot of days
I want to try it, and 100 days seems like after a I wouldn't want to do it.
I don't think I'll be able to do 100 but I guess then I can do 20.
I want to become a better writer, but I have already committed to other activities and I know I won't have enough time some days
Because I feel like it'll be a fun challenge and if I'm into it I'll go for the 100 day writing challenge!!

In the middle:

I will do at least 20 times and if I like it , I will do more.
It's hard for me sometimes to figure out what to write and I might miss a lot of days
I want to try it, and 100 days seems like after a I wouldn't want to do it.
I don't think I'll be able to do 100 but I guess then I can do 20.
I want to become a better writer, but I have already committed to other activities and I know I won't have enough time some days
Because I feel like it'll be a fun challenge and if I'm into it I'll go for the 100 day writing challenge!!
I want to do more than the required amount but at the same time I don't want to do more than the limit. Just in the middle,
I have so many activities after school so I don't have enough time to write 100 days.
I'm happy whith 20 days and a prize
I don't have the time to do 💯 days but I don't just want to do the bare minimum of 10 days
cause you get a prize
I don't know if I'll be able to do it every day
So it's a bit easier
I will do 20 days.
Because I don't want to but it might be fun
because i dont have 100 things exiting about my life so i will do te 20 day challenge
I have never really enjoyed writing but if I do the 10 days that won't challenge me enough.
I am trying to write 20 days or more t improve my writing
I'm gonna try hard to get 100 but I might be busy
I definitely will do the 20 days, but I will try to do the 100 days because I want to improve my writing.
Because I am not that good and this will be a good goal for me

Just the minimum:

i think its best for my mental health
I will do this because I write a lot anyway
I don't like writing
I can't really because I'm going to have baseball games and practices in Spring
I going to do 10 days because if I do 100 days I can't think any ideas or i might give up
Because I want to
Because I don't like writing.
I don't want to put to much pressure on myself
10 days are required so I will do 10 days
Because I don't know if I want to right for a long time
I'm not sure what I'm doing yet
I'm not big on writing but I know I have to improve in writing
I'm going to start with the ten days and then if I like it I will continue to write.
Because I can go buy those prizes from 7 11

Head v. Heart

Every year we face the same dilemma: enter the Oscar pool using strategy and conventional wisdom, or vote for the films and performances you have loved. Oh, there is certainly money and bragging rights at stake, but after seeing so many movies in a relatively short time, it's hard not to support the ones that made you laugh, or cry, or think, and hope that they touched the members of the academy in the same way, too.

This year Bill finally pulled the trigger on what we have been considering for a long time-- he filled out two ballots-- one for his head and one for his heart. As for me, as I looked over my ballot this evening I realized how fond I really was of so many of the nominees, and for this year, at least, my head and my heart were not the conflict.

And in the end? It was a riveting race until the final award was announced. Bill's heart was never a contender, but his head edged us all out.

But it was close!

Congrats on the two-fer, Bill!

UPDATE 12:10 AM: After that stunning reversal of the best picture award, there was a change in our results as well! Victor ended up tied with Bill, because his heart made him pick Moonlight.

Where in the World

I often torture myself trying to guess where in the world all those gorgeous, screen-saving landscapes on my Amazon Fire might possibly be located.Vietnam? New Zealand? Switzerland? Alaska? And I was doing that exact thing this evening as we all relaxed in the great room of our Oscar-weekend beach rental. A rare February thunderstorm boomed overhead and rain swished hard down the roof while Josh and I threw out place names to match the scenes gliding across the TV screen.

"I wish they would just tell us where they are so we could know if we were right!" I complained. "I'm going to write Amazon and ask them to do that! Wouldn't that be a fun game?"

"Well," interjected Victor, "there is a game that is similar to that. It's called GeoGuessr and it uses Google maps to basically drop you down in the middle of somewhere and make you guess your location."

Well, it wasn't long before we had that app up on the big screen collectively scrubbing every detail of the image to try to figure out just where in the world it might be. Look at the lines on the road! What does that sign say? What sort of plants are those? What color is the soil? What kind of car is that? What about the architecture?

Oh, the pictures weren't nearly as pretty, but the game was a lot of fun. Our results varied from as far off as we could possibly be (for the record that is only half-way around the world!) to within 33 yards.

AND? We always knew where it was in the end!

Start Your Engines

Hard to believe, but it was 2,917 days ago that I started posting this daily blog. The milestone was on my mind today as I introduced my latest group of sixth graders to the 100 Day Writing Challenge.

Over the years I have learned that, while daily diligence is mandatory for me, when the rules are completely unforgiving, a single misstep will almost certainly lead to quitting for my students. And so I have built in safety nets on either end of the challenge, such as the next five days before the official March 1 kick-off. Any kids who post practice pieces will be able to count them toward the ones they miss. There are also some extra days at the end for those writers who are oh-so-close.

As result, this Friday evening finds me reading through a collection of hundred-word self-portraits of my students' lives, and as ever, I am exceedingly moved by the small details they choose to share and the honesty with which they examine them. They are thoughtful, inventive, wise, and quirky.

Here are just a few of their observations:

Yesterday, I woke up to the stramatic yelling of my mother.

I want to be happy, but the thought of my electives haunts me.

Onstage I am the worst at jump roping, so I figured that if I practiced and practiced, I would get so good that I would be able to jump better than the king of jump roping.

Today in English while our teacher was talking I completely zoned out for like five minutes.

Her team has only won once, but they have been trying really hard. That is why I love my sister's basketball game.

I felt like a monster was crawling up my throat and trying to belt out the national anthem.

Now, if you really love birds or just any animal then stop reading now. 
(This particular writer waved me over as he was working. He had a very serious look on his face. "I'm writing about a dead bird I saw on the way to school," he told me, "but I'm afraid it is way too intense for some kids, so I'm going to add a warning.")

Peace out! Stay Alive and ask yourself what does the fox say? Serious. I really don't know? Tell me soon!

It's going to be an exceptional 100 days.

Connecting the Dots

A friend and colleague stopped by my classroom this afternoon with her dad. I was grading reading assignments and more than happy to take a break to meet a man I had been hearing about for over twenty years. When he found out that I was an English teacher, he gamely turned the conversation to correct usage and grammar (or the lack there of) these days. In a minute or two we had covered text-speak and spelling and dialects and the power structure.

"I'll tell you who does value exact grammar," he said. "Lawyers! One comma in the wrong place can mean the difference between damages and no damages for their clients."

I nodded. "It's like that old joke: Let's eat, Grandma versus Let's eat Grandma. Commas can save lives!"

We laughed, and then he asked, "How did we get to cannibalism from grammar?"

"Well," I answered, "I was just grading some work on a book about the Donner Party. It might have something to do with that!"

And we were off again.

Authentic Assessment

While the last few groups of students finished shooting and editing their commercials today, the other kids played a couple of online quiz games on persuasive techniques that I found for them.

Not having created the questions, I played along with the first group, confident in my ability and knowledge.

And when I came in second?

Dang!

I was proud of the boy who beat me.

Aw, heck! I'm proud of all of them-- they've done a great job on this project. They almost make me want to buy back my own kitchen gadgets.

Almost.

Talking 'bout my Demographic

"I really like this show!" I said as I clicked off the second episode of The Good Fight. A spinoff of the popular prime time legal drama The Good Wife, so far it can only be seen on CBS's subscription streaming service.

"It has familiar characters," I started.

"And strong women? Relevant political and social issues? Compelling drama?" Heidi added.

I nodded.

"That pretty much checks all my boxes," she agreed.

Too Short

Animated and live-action shorts were the marquis event of the day as we willingly sacrificed another 60+ degree day in winter to sit in a dark theater. Was it the weather, the movies, or the intrinsic melancholy of that third day of three-day weekend that cast the slightest of palls over the feature presentations?

Oh, I wouldn't have missed the anthology of films, and the company was stellar as always, but I found my attention wandering, and I must confess to being a little disappointed when the lights came up and we were a few hours closer to the beginning of another work week.

We'll Be Back

We tried to get out and hike this morning, and it seemed like such a good idea to finally do Section B of the Billy Goat Trail. After over 25 years of hiking the most iconic route of our region, the last time I was there I was astonished to notice a section B AND a section C on one of the trail maps along the canal, located a few miles south of the Visitor's Center.

And so we headed out at a little after nine, but by the time we arrived at the trailhead, all the parking was taken. Many cars were even parked along the road, right under all the No Parking signs. Perhaps the popularity can be explained by the small(ish) lot, which is actually a little bit closer to town, or maybe it's because it costs five bucks to get into the national park, and from here, you can walk in for free. Everybody wants a deal.

In any case, we chalked it up to live and learn and cruised off to find some other way to enjoy yet another incredibly beautiful day in February.

Bonus: We did discover that, unlike on the original Billy Goat, dogs are allowed on those sections of the trail. 

Susie or Sam

The weather was amazingly, unseasonably warm this afternoon, and lots of folks were out to prove it. Dogless as we are, we decided to drive down to a regional park with an amazing wetland boardwalk that does not allow canine companions. As a result, even though we have visited the park on many occasions, we have missed out on its main attraction.

Today it did not disappoint-- we saw geese and ducks and blackbirds, crows, a heron, a bluebird and a couple of turtles, but the star of the show was definitely that cute little muskrat chewing on swamp grass.

Reading Social Cues

My students are busy making commercials to demonstrate their understanding of persuasive techniques. Before shooting video, they were required to create a storyboard to organize their ideas. As they worked, I circulated through the room providing advice and encouragement.

“What’s your concept?” I asked one group of boys.

“We want to convince the audience that this is a fun new toy!” one said.

“Yeah!” his classmate agreed. “We’re going to show kids playing with it and some old person playing with something boring.” He paused. “But we need someone old.”

Four boys turned expectantly to me.

I raised my eyebrows.

“We’re going to keep looking!” another boy assured me.

Proofreading V. Editing

"Can I ask you a favor?" a colleague poked his head in the door this afternoon.

I laughed and gave my standard reply. "You can ask!"

"Will you proofread a paper I am writing for grad school?" he started. "I don't need it until next week, so you can totally take your time," he added quickly.

"Sure," I shrugged.

He sighed. "Thank goodness, because my professor suggested the writing center, but I thought, Why would I ask a bunch of 19-year-olds, when I have a much better option right across the hall?"

"Wait," I said. "Did your professor say that to you or everyone?" Because right then? I was wondering what I had just agreed to.

"I'm sure it was everyone," he waved his hand dismissively. 

"Okay," I nodded, "but why don't you give me that paper right now."

Epilogue:

His paper was fine, but I did suggest a few changes. I don't know what that professor was expecting, but that seems like another blog post altogether.

Reading the Signs

The sugar-fueled sixth grade Valentine's Day celebration spilled over into today when one of my homeroom students sheepishly asked permission to distribute little tins of candy. "I just forgot yesterday," she shrugged.

The other kids were, of course, more than willing to accept her belated offerings which turned out to be those chalky little hearts stamped with corny messages. As one guy snacked contentedly in the rocking chair I couldn't resist messing with him. "Close your eyes and pick one at random!" I said. "Then read it to us-- it will be a message from the Universe!" I promised.

He was happy to comply. Slamming his eyes shut, he plucked a single heart from the tiny tin and held it between his thumb and forefinger.

"What does it say? What does it say?" his classmates pestered him.

"It says..." he paused dramatically, squinting at the candy. "It says, 'Marry me'!" he did a literal double-take and blushed as the other kids roared with laughter.

"The Universe is weird," he concluded, popping the heart into his mouth.

Read Aloud

This rotation my intervention group is 11 boys who, well, let's be honest, do not like to read. I did my best this morning to hook them with snacks and choice.

"We can read the same book all together," I suggested, "or you can pick a book to read with a partner. Take a few minutes to decide."

The murmur quickly exploded to a hubbub. "I hear so many good ideas and questions," I said. "Why don't we talk again as a group?"

When they were settled I told them, "This would be a good chance for you to read something that always seemed a little too hard or too long. Or maybe something that sounded really good, but you just couldn't get into." I looked around expectantly. "Why don't you all go ahead and take a look at the bookshelves to get some ideas?"

As they browsed, I noticed a few eying the Harry Potter series. "That would be a good choice!" I encouraged them. "It's great, but it can be hard to get involved with."

A few boys shrugged until the assistant that I am lucky to be working with this time grabbed a copy. "Would it be okay if I read the first chapter out loud?" he said. "Then if you like what you hear, you'll know it's a good fit for you."

Three boys followed him to the corner and were rapt as he began to read. I continued making quiet suggestions to the others until, one by one, they drifted over to him, sat down, and began to listen.

Re-Reading

Another quarter, another reading of "What Was I Scared Of?"

As usual, I did my this-is-so-weird-and-silly schtick, riffing on the nocturnal bear, the creepy pants, the Grin-itch spinach, and so on. BUT today, I noticed a new flaw in the book. "Look at that moon!" I cried. "The text says it's a week later, but the PHASE OF THE MOON HASN'T CHANGED!" I threw my hands up in mock exasperation. "I'm sorry! I don't even think this story takes place on earth!"

The students laughed good-naturedly, and one boy raised his hand. "How many times did you read that story before you noticed the moon?" he wanted to know.

I paused and shrugged. "This is the first time I saw that," I confessed. "So, considering I first read this book when I was seven or eight?"

I looked out at the class; their eyes were wide.

"Let's just say, Several," I told them with a nod.

The Multitudinous Story

Oh! The Oscar-nominated documentary shorts!

Each year I eagerly look forward to that curated and concentrated glimpse into some other realities than my own. The movies can be joyful, but more commonly are hard to watch, and this year was heavy on the latter.

Three of the five were centered around the war in Syria and its catastrophic fallout. Although the indomitable spirit of many Syrians was front and center, so was the devastating scope of the tragedy that has been unfolding for the last six years. It made the grave subjects of the other two films-- end of life care choices and the path of a violin from the Holocaust to the poorest county in the US-- seem almost, almost, minor, although of course that could never be true.

And, that is why I love them so.

Worth It

I have to admit that I'd never considered a sous vide setup for my kitchen until the other night when a friend mentioned that her husband had one. The stars must have aligned, because a day or two after that, I saw an online deal-of-the-day for one at one-third its usual price. Compact and easy to use, a new toy was clearly in my future.

For those who are unfamiliar, sous vide involves cooking food sealed in a vacuum packed bag in a precisely heated water bath so that whatever you are preparing cooks to that temperature and no higher. Such a technique yields food that is cooked evenly throughout.

And it is fun to play with! So far I've cooked salmon, ribeye, and eggs with varying degrees of success. The steak was perfectly medium rare and a quick sear in a hot skillet made it gorgeous, too. The water temperature for the salmon should have been a few degrees cooler-- I can fix that next time-- it was still pretty good though, and the eggs were the coolest texture ever, almost like custardy melted cheese.

I'll keep you posted about what I cook next!

Context is Everything

As always, at our International Baccalaureate school, the activity ended with a reflection.

Today, the whole school had viewed the moving documentary, He Called me Malala, and the students were asked to name their favorite part. Later, after they were gone, another teacher on the team came to my room to share one of her student's responses:

My favorite part was when she took one right to the forehead.

I gasped. And then laughed, because he has obviously been influenced by popular media, and his phrasing was (excuse the pun) right on target.

Fortunately, the students were also asked to explain their answers, and so he continued:

I couldn't believe she survived to tell us how important school is.

Snow Hole

January 7, 2017:

Washington: trace
Richmond: 8"
Yorktown: 12"
Virginia Beach 10"

February 9, 2017:

Washington: trace
Baltimore: <1 p="">Philadelphia: 4"
New York: 10"

All my teacher friends are beginning to despair!

Clean Your Ears, Lassie

I was only listening with half an ear this morning when I heard a school announcement that made me take notice.

The NJHS is sponsoring a kilt drive. If you have any lightly worn kilts that you no longer need please bring them to school. All kilts will be cleaned before being offered to students and families who may need them.

A bonny parade of tartan capes, bagpipes and Glengarry and Balmoral bonnets whirled through my imagination as I considered who might have a few extra kilts around and better yet, who might want them?

And then I realized with more than a wee twinge of disappointment that I had misunderstood the student announcer. We were having a plain old coat drive.

I'd Like to Buy a Vowel

Each quarter we give a "predictor" assessment for the high stakes test which lies ahead. The kids know the routine; there is even a special app on their iPads so that they can access the test that much more conveniently.

As the teacher it is my role to "green light" the test, and in doing so I have a few options. One is to put a download password on the assessment. I have the sense that the creators meant for this feature to prevent students from taking the test outside of class where, presumably, they could get unauthorized assistance.

That concern is not very relevant to me. I've found that 6th graders don't really want to take the test in class, much less anywhere else, nor do they care enough about the results to bother cheating. I personally like the password because it forces everyone to stop and perhaps even listen to me for a moment before they plunge into multiple choice land, and I try to make my passwords somewhat amusing.

A few years ago, a student actually guessed the download key before I could give it, and ever since then it's been my practice to challenge the kids to guess what it might be. Today was no exception, and after a few hollered-out inaccurate predictions, one of the students suggested we play hangman for the answer.

It was brilliant!

Analyzing the word cues and clues and employing other strategies to decipher the password was a perfect warmup for the test. And? Although I can't prove any causal correlation, as a group, they didn't do too bad at all.

Student Concerns

"Does C. have any friends?" the counselor asked at our weekly student concern meeting.

"He and E. are pretty tight," one teacher noted.

"Yeah," the counselor nodded, "but they went to elementary school together, and I'm wondering if either one is branching out."

"They're both kind of quiet," I said. "But how come you only asked about C?"

"Well," she started, "maybe it's just resting sad face--"

"You mean RSF?" someone wise-cracked. "That's a thing?"

"He just seems a little withdrawn," the counselor finished. She shrugged. "I'll probably just put him and E on different teams next year."

"Hey now!" I said. "Why do you have to be so extreme??"

She looked confused. "What do you mean? I just want them to make more friends."

"That is an introvert's nightmare!"

Throwin' Stones

I am a person who likes to go places when I exercise. For hikes, the top of the mountain or some other scenic view is sufficient, and a long bike ride will also do, but if I'm walking, I want it to be to somewhere for something; the farmers market, the grocery store, the post office, a restaurant, you get the picture: I stroll with a purpose.

And in fact, we were walking home from the movies this afternoon when I saw a woman jogging purposefully our way with a library book in hand. Even so, I couldn't help giggle when she passed. "It must be overdue!" I whispered to Heidi.

What I Learned Today

I'm taking a quick graduate class on word study-- 3 credits in 6 Saturday sessions-- and today was the first meeting. A few observations:

For the teacher with the second most years in the field, the ice-breaker was not too onerous.

What size is my vocabulary, anyway?
(According to a couple of online tests, somewhere between 28 and 35 thousand.)

What the hell is an affricate?
(Answer: a phoneme that combines a plosive with an immediately following fricative or spirant sharing the same place of articulation, e.g., ch as in chair and j as in jar.)

The new(ish) thing is to refer to students as "kiddos."

When certain kiddos dominate the group activity, other kiddos check out.

The Offering

"We brought donuts," the parents said as they joined the special education eligibility committee in the conference room. What followed was a tense discussion about psychological and educational testing as well as teacher, parent, counselor, and self-observation rating scales about their 11-year-old son. We struggled to interpret the data as accurately as we could to best support this student: He was definitely in the clinically significant range for ADHD, but not quite on the autism spectrum. He had an outside diagnosis of conduct disorder and oppositional defiant disorder, but did his school behavior rise to the level of an emotional disability? Even though we were all on the same side, the conversation was fraught.

In the end, we settled on the most certain identification knowing that the committee could be reconvened at any time. It was quiet in the room as the legal documents made their way around the conference table where in the center, sat a box of a dozen had-rolled, small batch gourmet donuts sat untouched.

In general? I am not a donut eater; they have a lot of calories, and I'm a calorie counter. But then I looked at the parents. They seemed overwhelmed and drained.

"Let's dig into those donuts!" I suggested.

This They Believe

As we make our way towards the end of the essay unit, my students are writing persuasive pieces on topics of their choice. Want to know what's going on in your local 11 to 12 year-old-brain? Here's a peek:

Dogs are better than cats
Cats are just as good as dogs.
School lunches should be replaced with healthy fast food.
Kids don’t have enough breaks.
The Patriots suck.
Kids should be home-schooled.
Tanning is bad.
Our school should have block scheduling.
Students should not have uniforms.
Schools should not offer fast food options for lunch.
Students should not have any homework.
Students should wear uniforms.
No testing makeup on animals.
Trust your guardian to guide you in the right direction.
Our town needs an Anime store.
School lunches should be better.
Bullying has to stop.
Elementary students should not have iPads.
The U.S. should allow refugees to immigrate here.
School should start later.
Donald Trump is unfit to be president.
Women should be paid equally to men.
School should be more fun.
The U.S. should adopt the metric system.
P.E. performance standards should be the same for boys and girls in middle school.
Factories should convert to renewable power sources.
Hotels are better than Airbnb.
A PC is better than a gaming system.
School’s should have less strict dress codes.
There should be more afterschool activities at our school.
Gym class activities should be free choice.
Vegetables are better than fruit.
Hockey is the best sport.
Candy should be healthier.
Apple products were better before Steve Jobs died.
Kids should be able to listen to music in class.
Kids should be able to vote.
Soccer is the best sport.
Kids should have more breaks during the school day.
People should respect gay people more.
There should be fewer tests in school.
Women’s professional sports should get as much attention as men's.
Fossil fuels should be banned.
Schools should have longer summer vacations.
Schools should have four day weeks.
School should be canceled whenever it snows.
Math is important to learn.
Gaming consoles are better than PCs.
Housing should be more affordable for everyone.
The school lunch period should be longer.

And, finally...

Legos are relevant!

The Magic Chicken

I may have mentioned before that one of the students in my homeroom this year is a guy who is in our school's functional life skills program, which is designed for people who are cognitively or intellectually impaired. He comes every morning with an instructional assistant whose job it is to help keep him on track as he participates in the same activities we all do.

A few days ago, though, I noticed that he did not stand during the Pledge. It was possible (but doubtful) that he didn't realize where we were in our morning routine, but when the assistant prompted him, he refused to stand. He is on the autism spectrum and verbal communication is at a minimum for him, but it is far from impossible to get through to him.

As soon as the minute of silence was over, grabbing my novelty chicken, the one that plays a little song and lays candy eggs, I walked over to the kid right next to him. "Kieran," I said, "did you stand up for the Pledge of Allegiance today?"

Kieran eyed me with some confusion. "Uhhh," he started, "yes?"

"Good job!" I congratulated him. "Thank you for doing what you were supposed to do. Have a candy egg!"

Kieran pushed on the plastic poultry which clucked a merry tune and delivered a chewy sweet tart to him. I moved to the next student. "Edwin? Did you stand for the pledge?"

And so it went. With each student who received candy, my non-stander's eyes grew wider. Finally he could take it no more. He came over to me. "D?" I asked him. "Did you stand for the pledge?"

He was silent, which is not unusual for him.

"Oh, that's right," I said. "You did not follow the directions today." I shook my head sadly and held the chicken. "I hope you will tomorrow!"

His hand flew to his heart and he recited the pledge as fast as he could.

"Great!" I told him. "Do it just like that tomorrow!"

And he did!

Meanwhile, there was another student who has been chronically late to school recently, but he made it to homeroom that day. He watched first with confusion, and then in amazement as I again offered each student the chicken.

"When did this happen?" he asked. "When did we start getting candy for standing up during The Pledge of Allegiance?"

"I know, right?" I told him. "You should totally make it here on time!"

And he has!

Fully Fledged

How was it that I found myself sitting in the library reading the paper at 10 AM this morning?

It was time to let the intern working with me take a solo.

How did it go?

Well, let's just say that, tomorrow?

I'm going to get a lot of work done!

Look Up, America

When we were children, my mother used to sing us a song on nights when the moon was out:

I see the moon;
the moon sees me;
the moon sees the one
that I want to see.

From where I stood this evening, not even 3 miles from the White House, I could hardly fail to notice the crescent moon and the evening star pinned against the dying day in the early night sky. It was impossible to mistake the image, and equally impossible to consider how, to so many people around the world, these are symbols of progress and light, respectively.

God bless the moon,
and God bless me,
and God bless the one 
that I want to see.

Dumplins

Not another dog name (although it could be!), but rather a traditional dish to celebrate the lunar new year. This weekend billions of folks around the world ring in the year of the Fire Rooster, and dumplings are made and eaten to bring us wealth. Plus? They are delicious! At least mine were-- beef and ginger, and shrimp with black beans and water chestnuts.

恭喜发财 !!

Wherefore Art Thou?

Sweet Potato
Scarlett
Lucy
Ginger
Button
Ruby
Finch
Pepper
Jelly Bean
Cricket
Mabel
Jo

Lately the conversation frequently turns to the same topic whenever Heidi and I walk.

What should we name our next dog?

Like Minds

"What are we going to do next?" a student asked me today as he finished his literary essay.

"Oh, you guys are going to get to apply what you've learned about argument to a topic you really care about personally," I told him.

He frowned. "Like what?"

"Well," I said, "say you think the Affordable Healthcare Act should be repealed." I gave the first example that came into my mind.

His eyebrows shot straight up. "What??" he gasped. "Who thinks that??" He looked at me suspiciously. "Do you really think we should get rid of it?"

A little taken aback by his passionate reaction, I shook my head in an of-course-not no, but then recovered somewhat. "I'm really not supposed to discuss my personal political opinions," I laughed, because it was already too late, "so, no comment, but..."

His wide eyes met mine, and I continued to shake my head.

He nodded, both in conspiracy and relief.

"Maybe you should write about that one," I suggested.

Get On Your Feet

Movement opportunities are essential in middle school, and I use an activity where, after working on their own to answer questions or gather ideas, students circulate through the room as music plays. Then, in musical chairs fashion, when the tune stops they must put a hand up, find a partner, and share their thinking.

We used this method at the end of reading class this morning, and with my new bluetooth speaker and iPhone, I was able to switch the song with alacrity in between sharing sessions. I started with a little Miles Davis Quintet, which the kids are used to, since I frequently use jazz to get them on their feet. My next choice? An early 70s pop song by the Cufflinks, called Tracy.

"What's my name?" I called as they shimmied through the room.

"Tracey!" they chorused.

Next up? Redemption Song by Bob Marley. It was obviously unfamiliar to most. "Yeah! Country music!" cried one student.

And finally we heard My Prerogative, which provided both an energetic groove and a vocabulary teaching moment.

When the bell rang the students left chattering happily after sharing several essay ideas with four other kids, but it might have been my intern who was most impressed.

"Wow!" he said, "Nice. Choice. Of music!"

Buy Stock in Apple

The intern working in my classroom designed a mini-lesson on counter-arguments for our essay unit today. To illustrate the concept he composed a short paragraph in praise of his mobile phone, and to engage the students he posed a quick question: How many of you guys have iPhones?

At least 4 out of 5 kids raised a hand in each class.

And while I was impressed by his ability to hit that particular target with his audience... 

Folks! 

We're talking 11 and 12-year-olds here!

Not So Bad

"Don't worry, Dude, we're off on Friday! Teacher workday!" I overheard one student telling another this morning as his pal complained about being tired.

I could almost understand where the second guy was coming from. After winter break and two long weekends in a row, even on a Tuesday, the thought of a full, five day week seemed a bit onerous: the breaks are welcome, but the transition back to work can be a challenge.

Still, it's my job to correct misconceptions. "That's not until next Friday," I informed them.

They slumped in their seats, deflated, but a second later? They were chattering excitedly about the illustrated timeline they were collaborating on. 

Who's that Guy?

"Who's that?" the first student entering my room this morning asked sotto voce pointing at the guy sitting by my desk. "Are you going somewhere?"

I am hosting a teacher-in-training in my classroom for the next two weeks. Brandon is young and enthusiastic, and he came in today prepared with a colorful visual slide to introduce himself to the students.

After they examined the images and made inferences as to why he had included them in the presentation, he explained the significance of each-- the Miami Heat and Philadelphia Eagles logos represented his love of sports and especially those teams. The stack of books and headphones next to it stood for his double major, English and music, at George Mason University whose green and gold emblem was also present.

The front-and-center drawing of a tree with the word FAMILY scrolled within its leaves was easy for the kids to decode, but the picture of a the sun rising over a long pier jutting out into the ocean had them guessing a bit. "You like long walks on the beach?" one girl suggested without a trace of irony. Maybe, but he was trying to show that he was born and raised in Virginia Beach.

Finally, he told them he was going to be my intern for a couple of weeks and asked them if they knew what that was. Most kids had a vague understanding of the concept, but one boy was certain he knew. His hand shot straight up and he wiggled his fingers as he strained to catch Brandon's eye. "It's someone who wants someone else's job!" he burst out.

Brandon and I laughed and made eye contact. "Sort of," I shrugged.

Raindrops Keep Falling

It seemed like a good plan. We walked down to the nearest bike share, grabbed a couple of bikes, and pedaled over to a nearby shopping district. Sure, it was drizzling as we clicked our bikes into the station there, and yes, it was predicted to rain all day, but we walked through the damp afternoon undaunted. And I think I was genuinely surprised when we came out of the grocery store to discover that it was raining in earnest. Even so, we dashed down a few blocks and darted inside another shopping center, optimistic that we still might make our way home under our own power. Alas, it wasn’t to be; the nor’easter that had been forecast had arrived. Then it was a choice of bus or uber, until a friend happened to text wondering if we were interested in shopping. Turns out she was headed our way in a nice warm, dry car.

In the Middle

On a day when many of my friends and family were making history I decided to forgo the crowds and take in some history. Our county has a tiny historical museum that I have driven past over a hundred times in the last almost 30 years, but despite an avid interest in the local past, I have never been there.

So, after taking a brisk walk and running a few errands in the quiet gray streets (most people really were at the march!) I headed up to the ridge that overlooks the Potomac and the capital beyond and pulled into the tiny parking lot of the former Hume School. Just as I prefer, I was the only visitor for most of the time I spent there, and I was able to take the time to examine all of the maps and artifacts in as much detail as I pleased.

Walking out again into the misty afternoon, my mind full of stories of those who had carved their lives here in the past, I paused to look east to where so many were gathered in hopes of shaping the future.

And there I was.

Monoculture

Washington DC is our hometown, and though we stayed away from the pageantry surrounding the peaceful transfer of power this noon, I couldn't help but watch the inauguration on TV. What struck me most as the camera panned across the crowd gathered on the National Mall, a place where we have spent countless hours mingling with the diverse crowd that usually populates "America's front yard," was just how white they were. 

Take Two

Another day, another trip to Mt. Vernon. Originally scheduled to chaperone our other activity, a series of personnel min-crises landed me back on the southbound bus. As before, the kids were delightful, however one day before a presidential inauguration is probably not the ideal time to visit the home of our first, and only unanimously-elected, president. Throngs of tourists joined us on our tour of the plantation and mansion, and subsequently the narration was rushed and disjointed.

In between rooms, I tried to fill in some of the gaps for the students I was with, both to inform them and keep them occupied as we waited. For example, waiting on the east-facing portico I swept my arm toward the wide Potomac. "A land trust owns all that property on the other side," I told them, "so that what we see will always look as much as possible like what Washington saw when he looked over there."

The kids nodded with half-interest, but as it turns out, they were not my only audience.

"He must have had a hell of an arm to get that silver dollar over there!" the guy ahead of us said.

Political Compass

“It’s one thing to say: ‘I think the proposal on the following is a serious mistake. I think it’s gonna do the following damage.’ It’s another thing to say, ‘The guy’s a fucking idiot, and he is an egomaniac who’s a whatever.’ ”

~Joe Biden

The Zen of Field Trips

It was cold and drizzly when we left school this morning. 40 minutes late because transportation had "forgotten" us, we were on our way to Mt. Vernon. The plan for the day had already been altered to account for the weather: we would come back to school a little earlier than planned and eat lunch in our rooms, but now as we bumped along the GW Parkway, it looked like we might miss our tour of the mansion as well.

Of course the 50 kids chattering all around me had no idea that there might be a problem; half of them hadn't even worn a warm coat, and several had already eaten their entire lunch when we advised them to a have a snack while waiting for our errant bus. Conceding my powerlessness, I wiped away the condensation on the window and peered out at the iron of the Potomac. Rafts of geese, ducks, and other migratory birds floated serenely on its steely surface.

I ticked off the misty landmarks as we traveled south and noticed that the rain seemed a little less steady, and when at last the bus pulled around the circle to the familiar gate and the 55 of us piled out, it had stopped altogether. The staff at the estate kindly pushed our tour 15 minutes, and as we crunched up the damp trail toward the house, the sun actually came out a moment, and I saw blue skies for the first time in days.

Downs and UPS

The package needed a signature, which was a nuisance, because we are rarely home during the week. There was no place on any of the reminder slips to designate a neighbor or another safe place, and the phone number provided was wholly automated. When the FINAL ATTEMPT at delivery was made when we were out on Friday evening, we shrugged it off, knowing that at some point in the upcoming three day weekend we would find our way down to the customer service.

And that opportunity did indeed come this morning when we pulled into the out of the way industrial park a little off the route to our favorite grocery store. We produced the required documentation and waited in the drafty shipping office listening to a local soul station, weighing ourselves on the industrial scale, and jumping every time the automatic door eerily opened and closed all by itself at random intervals.

The clerks returned from time to time to question us about the size, value, and shipper of our expected package, openly acknowledging that they couldn't find it. After speaking to two supervisors and leaving our number, we agreed to go to the grocery store and stop again on the way home. But when we got there, they balefully informed us that we would have to file a claim.

A couple of hours later we sat in our living room griping about our bad luck. Heidi was making her way through yet another automated phone menu when a roar outside the window attracted my attention. A brown truck rumbled by. "Maybe they accidentally sent it out for delivery again and that's why they couldn't find it," I suggested. "That could be it right now!" I laughed.

Just then a recorded voice came over the phone. The latest status of that package is that it was delivered at 3:36 today, it said.

I looked at my watch.

It was 3:37.

I trotted over to the front door, and...

there it was!

A Time for Every Season

Oscar weekend beach house?

Booked!

First movie (Hidden Figures) and dinner (Peter Chang's) with the regular Oscar crew?

Check!

Here's to seven more weeks of fun.

Until Spoken To

It seems like a lot of conversations I have these days involve venting: so many people have so much to get off their chests. Like most listeners I think, my first inclination is to problem-solve complaint-by-complaint, but often it seems that such an approach results in a litany of counter complaints and reasons why my suggestions could never work. Such a conversation can quickly become frustrating for both parties, and maybe even fodder for another venting session down the road.

Recently, in fact, I was on the receiving end of a third-degree complaint: somebody complaining about somebody who complained and then refused to take their advice. I nodded sympathetically and mm hmmed at appropriate times, but was otherwise silent. "What do you think I should have done?" my friend finally asked.

I shrugged. "I've learned it's best not to give advice unless you're asked for it," I answered.

Her lit up, and she nodded vigorously. "That seems very wise!" she told me.

See what I mean?

Jackpot!

3-3-3

Three days off-- we honor Dr. King on Monday.

Three days on-- two of them will be field trips!

Three days off-- inauguration gridlock has its benefits.

Warning: Hazard Ahead

Below freezing yesterday and 70 degrees in today: this is the type of dire fluctuation in temperature that my dad used to warn us was pneumonia weather. Of course today we might be likely to chalk it up to the far more menacing hazard of climate change.

And yet, as I walked coatless to my car in the balm of this January evening, the shouts of children chased after each other through twilit yards, and the prospect of peril seemed farther away than the misty moon rising so incandescently full.

Bissell While You Work

"They are not 'your' classrooms!" an administrator once reminded a roomful of us teachers harshly. "They belong to the school system and you use them at our discretion."

My stomach wrenched at her bluntness, and a tiny spark of the burning idealism that carries most of us into teaching was extinguished forever along with any illusion of ownership I may have had over my workspace. Oh, I shook it off-- that was years ago, and whether it's technically my room or not, practically speaking it is definitely where the magic happens.

Even so, the fact is that my classroom is used for night classes and on weekends by a church group who rents the facility. In theory, these groups respect the work space, but in practice that is not always true and it is routine for me on any given morning to reset the room for my own classes, moving tables and chairs to the places where my students expect them. In addition there are times when things are missing (tissues, markers, chalk, etc.) and times when things are left behind (empty cups and bottles, papers, books, umbrellas, and even a dirty diaper once).

So I was hardly surprised when I found an unusual object leaning against my wall on Monday morning. Anyone who has ever worked in a restaurant would have recognized it immediately-- it was an electrostatic carpet sweeper-- aka a "Bissell." Having swept under many a table in my time, I was impressed by how new this particular model was. In fact, it was not A Bissell at all, but rather a product of the Fuller brush company, a genuine Stanley Sweeper.

Any irritation at this abandoned item soon turned to interest. I gave it a tentative push and was pleased with the its action as it rolled smoothly across the rug picking up even the smallest specks and crumbs in its path. The potential of possessing such a device was immediately clear to me as I imagined all the stray hole punches and pencil shavings I could dispense with quite easily. This sweeper was a keeper!

And indeed it has proved to be so-- not just for me, but for my students and colleagues as well. Paper scraps? Food crumbs? Caked on dirt from recess? No problem! The rugs in our rooms have been pristine for the last three days. The satisfaction at cleaning up such messes so easily has led to arguments over whose turn it is to clean up. In fact, I just ordered one to keep at home, and a couple of other teachers have done so as well.

They may not be our rooms, but by God, those carpets are clean!

Playing Catch Up

The students at our school are quite a diverse and international group, and as such many are very well-traveled. Why, just in the last week I have had students return from Peru and Ghana and another who informed us that he will be out next week due to a family commitment-- a Disney Cruise to the Bahamas.

I'm pretty old school about these excursions; I believe that there is much to be learned beyond the classroom, and frankly, in the grand scheme of things, sixth grade really isn't all that. Believe it or not, though, it's pretty impossible to keep up with the requirements of school when one is not present, and so I do what I can to minimize any loss of education and/or stress for students who miss a few days (or weeks) spending time with family.

Even so, it can be pretty traumatic to return to school after time away. Our traveler to Peru, a tough little guy, cried in every class on the day he came back. The guy who spent three weeks in Ghana had a different reaction. I walked over to his table as he frantically searched his notebook. "I can't seem to find the assignment you want," he told me.

"That would be because you weren't here when I gave it," I said.

He looked shocked.

"You're going to miss a few things if you're absent," I told him. "We can't wait for you!"

Friends Forever

I've been going to the same dentist practice for about 25 years, and although the office location, personnel, and technology have changed over the years, it never fails that I run into someone I know in the waiting room. Such was the case this afternoon when the cold wind swept me into the lobby after a 20 minute walk from school.

"Tracey!" I heard my name and looked to the receptionist who was not looking at me. "Is it you?"

A guy and his teenaged son were the only other patients in the waiting room, and I recognized them right away. I started my teaching career with Colin and his son was a student at our school until last year. Colin stood up and gave me a great big hug.

"You're all checked in!" the receptionist told me, and I plopped down next to my friend and loosened my scarf. It had been a long time since I'd seen him. Colin took the administrative track early on in our careers, and now he was a well-respected principal at an elementary school on the north side. I looked at him and shook my head. Despite the years with their inevitable hardships and tragedies, he still had the same gap-toothed grin of the silly trickster he was.

I flashed back to my phone ringing on a Saturday morning in the mid-90s. "Hello?" I answered.

"This is Governor George Allen calling for the teacher of the house. Is she home?"

I was confused and literally speechless until laughter broke the silence. "It's Colin!" he said. "I have a question about school."

Today we chatted amiably but aimlessly. It's hard to fill in years of gaps in five minutes in a waiting room, so we talked about school construction and his older son's college classes. All too soon they called my name. I stood and turned to Colin, but before I could say anything too mushy he spoke first.

"Give her a big shot in the gums!" he called to the hygienist.

I giggled and followed her to the back.

"Do you know that guy?" she asked with concern.

"Yep!" I told her.