Reeling in the Years

When teachers marching to replace tattered textbooks is headline news, it's hard not to appreciate how fortunate our affluent school district is. When it comes to materials and supplies, our students have pretty much anything they need. There is some disparity in facilities, however. Predictably, the newer the building, the nicer the place and the stuff inside.

Our school is 47 years old, and the furniture in my classroom is original to the building. The wood veneer trapezoid tables and heavy steel and composite chairs have been in my personal possession for 25 years, so they are in relatively good condition, despite being over 20 when I was first assigned them.

Aesthetically, I like to think they have held up well-- my classroom seems classic to me-- but on days when I am giving a standardized test, the vintage furniture doesn't seem quite so user-friendly as usual. Mostly? It's the tables-- they wiggle and squeak where the metal legs are bolted to the wood veneer tops.

To be honest, I don't even hear it anymore, and the kids get used to it pretty quickly, too (well that, and it's not always that quiet in the room; learning is a noisy business, you know.) But today the squeaking was bothering everyone. "This test is going to take me 2 weeks!" one frustrated student proclaimed dramatically, "And I'm not even kidding!"

I pulled her table away from its partner, and the awful noise was mostly muted. When the day was done, I opened one of my storage cupboards and retrieved my trusty can of WD40. 24 spritzes later, I was sure she would finish the test tomorrow... on that iPad the school system gave her!

A Worthy Adversary

My directions were clear: for the final push in our fiction-writing unit, the classroom should be a quiet working space.

"So, what's your story about?" asked one student in a loud, conversational tone aimed at the other kids at his table. He was looking for some verbal distraction, and I was more than happy to refocus him.

"My story is about a quiet classroom where writers can finish the drafts of their stories," I answered him pointedly.

"Well, that's clearly fiction," he replied.

We laughed, because it was really funny.

Then?

He got to work.

Let There Be Borscht

It was my sister-in-law's parents tradition to eat a meal of white borscht on Easter. Homemade chicken broth is poured piping hot over hard boiled eggs, fresh kielbasa, and spinach. Garnished with vinegar and horseradish, it's just the thing to fuel up on before or after an egg hunt. It also pairs nicely with jelly beans and chocolate bunnies. We spent many an Easter Sunday watching the boys search for hidden eggs and enjoying that improbably perfect meal.

This year, with Vic and Judy gone and the boys all grown, our morning was busy: Heidi and I were finishing the week-long paint-a-thon, and Bill and Emily rose at 4 am to make it home from Mexico before Spring Break expired.

Fortunately, the next generation was on it. Yesterday when we were at the dog park with 2 crazy pups and that geriatric gent, Sonic, Victor proposed borscht for Easter dinner, and between the two of us we worked out the details. He got the kielbasa and spinach and bread; we brought the eggs and salad and dessert. There was soup stock in both freezers, too.

Tradition?

Continued.

To Do and Do and Do and Do List

Just the taping, the trim, the ceiling, and the touch ups...

It all seems so manageable until you throw in a puppy, a holiday, a few other overlooked chores, and every little school thing we put off until the end of break.

Just the ceiling, the touch ups, the clean up, and the school stuff...

That seems manageable!

Oh,
and the fire place,
and the bills,
and the laundry...

Black and White and Read Occasionally

Recently I've been wrestling with whether or not I should curtail my newspaper subscriptions. As we have for years, we receive the local paper daily and the Sunday New York Times.

Years ago opening the front door each morning and retrieving the news of the world was a small miracle. I turned every page, skimming it all and reading a lot, and my inky fingers were smudgy emblems of gratitude.

These days, though, when headlines are pushed to my phone 24 hours a day, I read a bit of both the local paper and the Times online, listen to the radio in the morning and feel relatively well-informed. Too often my newspapers pile up in the basket untouched before they are used to line the litter box or set out to the curb for recycling. (But never before I pull the Food Section!)

On weeks like this one when a messy DIY home improvement project has taken over our lives, I'm happy I haven't canceled the papers. They have come in very handy in keeping paint off the new floors and furniture. And every day as I spread them out or lift a tray from their protection, I find an article I haven't seen that seems so fascinating that I have to stop what I'm doing and read it.

Obviously? I'm missing a lot.

Perhaps that should be the warning label for life in the 21st century.

Feline Delinquents

When you're a hammer, the whole world's a nail, and when you're a kitten, well...

We only thought our place had a Peewee's Playhouse vibe before. When we got a new floor several weeks ago, we decided to leave most of our stuff packed up in anticipation of our Spring Break painting project. The empty bookshelves and temporary foam mats on the floor were so inviting to our 2 kittens that they happily chased each other through the open spaces, leaping on the furniture and littering the entire area with all sorts of toys. the bookcases were like a little jungle gym for the kittens, too, and they scrambled from shelf to chair to couch to next shelf up.

I must have assumed that the painting would put an end to all that, but I was wrong. Not only have they been using the drop cloths like giant slip-n-slides, but having the furniture draped in plastic and pushed to the center of the room is like creating the most awesome indoor fort in the world. They scale the furniture both from above and beneath the plastic, and they also hide at its edges, waiting for some unsuspecting painter to pass by so they can attack her feet.

As for the paint itself, they gave it a sniff and then left it alone. Maybe they'll decide to dabble in the arts tomorrow.

There is a Season

It's the National Cherry Blossom Festival this week, but until today? You'd have been hard pressed to know it, but for the big white tent down by the Tidal Basin. A much colder-than-usual March has pushed the peak prediction back about 2 weeks and bare trees still line those famous walkways. But oh! Even though there's a chill in the air, those days are getting longer. And, friends? There is a certain softness beneath even the most frigid day.

Just this morning I stood at my window and could almost see the buds on the crabapple right outside swelling to open. Nature may be delayed, but never denied. Thank goodness.

Break it Down

There's an old joke: How do you eat an elephant?

And on the Tuesday night of Spring Break when all of our living room and dining room stuff is in the guest room, and color samples emblazon the walls like war paint, and plastic shrouds the furniture as spackling cures in the cracks and holes, and masking tape actually masks the edges of our built-ins, and the walls and trim are cleaner than they have been in years, and all the paint and sponges and mud and pans and rollers and brushes and edgers and knives and 7-in-ones and rags and drop cloths are organized and ready to deploy, but not one single wall is finished, I know the answer.

One bite at a time.

Night Shift

At times I can be a restless sleeper. Then my dreams feature loops of school-related scenarios-- wouldas, couldas, and hey!-I-shouldas. Sometimes productive, sometimes not, I figure those nights push my work week to about 100 hours.

Just last night I dreamed again and again of using an app to reach a student with autism through his iPad. I should try that! I thought, every time I woke up. Finally, around 4 AM I fell into a restful sleep, and not waking until 7:30, I felt relatively refreshed. Even though my subconscious doesn't know I'm on spring break, my alarm clock does! 

Here's hoping the two will sync up before next Sunday.

First Things Last

Plymouth Rock, Coastal Fog, Raccoon Hollow, Cotton Tail, Simple Pleasure, Rock Candy, Vintage Pewter, Short Bread, Crisp Linen, Wedding Veil, White Wisp, November Rain.

The walls are bare, the furniture moved, and the rooms cleared out. We are ready to begin our Spring Break painting project, but...

We can't decide on the colors!

Remember When

The text came early this morning from a friend who had recently lost her senior dog. So, this happened.

Of course we added 'puppy gifts" and "visit puppy' to our to-do list. As yet unnamed, this little 8-week old Australian Shepherd was an adorable handful. In the time we were there he nipped our noses, chased his new big brother, and pranced proudly about with the squeaky bunnies we brought. It seemed hard to believe that our big bruiser of a doodle dog had been like this less than a year ago.

As we bid our farewells with promises to visit again very soon, the intoxicating mixture of puppy breath and cuddles was almost enough to make us consider getting another one for ourselves.

Almost.

Happy Spring Break

Leaving school today, I was seized by the desire to do something special to mark the advent of spring break, but at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon, I couldn't really come up with anything. So we came on home, walked the dog, went to the grocery store, and now we're having burgers and beer and watching a movie with 9 days of vacation stretching before us.

Special?
No.

Perfect?
You bet.

Character Flaws

Two students were working on their fiction piece this morning when I stopped in for a quick conference. "We're working on the character of the antagonist," one told me.

"Tell me what you have so far," I said.

"It's the evil skating coach," her partner said.

"Yeah," agreed the first student, "and we want to her to have a name that sounds really mean. She's pretty old, too, like maybe your age."

Her partner gasped, then quickly recovered. "I think she means upper middle-aged," she corrected.

Oh yeah, that's much better!

When Seasons Collide

Winter, this is Spring.
Spring? Meet Winter.
Winter, these are flowers.
Spring? This is snow!
Winter-- listen to all those birds!
Spring-- that perfume in the air is wood smoke.
I think you both know puddles and mud, don't you?
Winter, I know you were on your way out,
so don't let us keep you.
See you next year?
Spring, come on in,
we've been waiting for you!

Make Up Your Mind!

We've had several near misses in the Nor'easters that have hammered the Mid-Atlantic over the last few weeks, but it looks like we might have a significant spring snow storm aheadin' our way. In advance of this iffy forecast, today we were treated to temperatures just above freezing with drenching rain and sleet.

Bundling up this morning to walk the dog in the frigid, wet, gray dawn, I struggled to open my umbrella with my mittens on, and, for just a moment it seemed like too much.

Cold?
Bring it!

Rain?
Okay.

Both at once?
That's just crazy talk!

On Their Own

The day was sunny and warm, the chatter on the bus friendly and excited. We were on our way with 225 sixth graders to George Washington's Mount Vernon. Fortunately the place is big enough with so many different options and activities that it almost seemed like each small group had it to themselves. My 13 kids chose a scavenger hunt based on Washington's Spies to guide their exploration of the grounds and out buildings, and down at the museum, they loved the 4D movie so much that they wanted to see it twice. "Why not?" I shrugged. Who was I to deprive them of a double dose of Revolutionary War history?

It was their day, and I was just along to make sure no one got injured or hurt as they explored and learned about our first president on their own terms. Being allowed to make their own responsible choices is still a novelty in sixth grade, and these kids embraced the freedom.

Back on the bus, the group seemed pretty satisfied. "I thought it was going to be boring," I overheard one student say, "but it was actually awesome!"

Independence is always engaging, as I'm sure Washington himself would have agreed!

Old Book, New Book

When we were teenagers my brother, sister, and I devoured popular epic novels at an amazing rate. Plot driven and securely anchored in place and time, those books taught us a lot about the world. James Michener was a favorite, and long before any of us settled in Virginia, we knew all about the history and ecology of the Chesapeake Bay, particularly its Eastern Shore, because we had read his book, Chesapeake. To this day, I can't look at a great blue heron without thinking of the nickname fishing long legs.

Even so, and as much time as I've spent on and around the actual Chesapeake Bay in the last 35 years, I have never thought to revisit the book. Set aside the 865 pages(!), when it comes to stories, I'm a forward-looking reader, and I like to be surprised. But there was something about the heron I saw yesterday on my walk around a little local lake that prompted me to download the book last night.

I needn't have worried. As Billy Collins says in his poem Forgetfulness, 

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel 
which suddenly becomes one you never heard of

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones. 

It wasn't quite that bad~~ I remembered Michener and fishing long legs~~ but the rest seems new to me!

A Journey

It was only 4.7 miles around the little man-made lake, and yet in the couple of hours it took us to walk the circuit with the dog we witnessed a hawk dive into the leaves and fly off with some poor little squeaking rodent in its talons, and beheld a great blue heron wading near the shore dunk its head into the shallows, remerge with a wiggling fish, and swallow it in one gulp. Dozens of giant trees stood snagged and splintered by the huge windstorm 2 weeks ago. We spotted an eagle's nest, plenty of Canada geese, mallards, and cormorants, and the marsh whistled with red-wing blackbirds, while the woods buzzed with Carolina chickadees and tufted titmice. People ran, jogged, limped, rolled, and strolled with us and against us. A bearded man svengalied his four dogs with rap music so that he could snap a pack photo on a little dock. The sun was out; a cold wind gusted; leaden clouds filled the sky; it snowed; the sun returned; it snowed again. And 9500 steps later we climbed into our car and headed home.

Shhhh! Top Secret

So this week I have continued posting a little puzzle or task in our class writing challenge to encourage more kids to take a closer look and read through some of the posts. The reward has been a Jolly Rancher for any who successfully answer the question.

Yesterday I posed the following: Hello students! It's time for our next JoRaCha. That's it! Using the above form of abbreviation, hand me a slip of paper with your *secret* name.

I was thinking along the lines of NaNoWriMo or HeLa cells, creating an abbreviation by using the first consonant(s) and vowel of the word to stand in for it, and lots of kids were able to figure it out. It was all good until NoBe, BeLa, and ElDa decided to decipher my secret name. They were giggling so loudly at their table that I stepped over. "What's so funny?"

"You!" one said. "Your secret name is TraSh!"

"No!" I said, "You have to add the 'e' at the end!"

"Maybe the 'e' is silent!" another teased.

"Or else your name is TraShe!" said the third added, pronouncing the second syllable. "Would you rather be trash or trashy?"

They had me there-- I began to laugh right along with them. "That's Ms. TraShe to you! Good thing it's my secret name!" I said.

Third Millennium Shopping

News today that Toys R Us is liquidating all their stores. The retail landscape has changed so drastically in the last decade or so that such a turn of events is hardly surprising. To be honest, I can't remember the last time I was even in a big box toy store, although there is one just a couple of miles from my home. A toy store is always much more fun with kids, and the kids in my life are either too old or too far away to go shopping with me. Still, I think it's kind of a loss.

When I was a kid, the big toy store near us was Kiddie City, and the times our parents took us there were always special. I remember shopping for a sand box, a swing set, birthday bikes, and skates. Floor to ceiling shelves lined aisle after endless aisle, miraculously filled with real toys that until then had only been the stuff of technicolor TV commercials. There was New Born Thumbelina, Rock'em Sock'em Robots, Marvel the Mustang, stacks of Easy Bake Ovens, Playdough Factories, and Light Brites.

Oh, I have embraced our new shopping where everything in the world is available with free 2 day shipping. It's thrilling, but occasional disappointment is necessarily built into that deal. Of course there are instant printable return labels and the option to drop your box at the nearest shipping store, where it is added to a mountain of other anonymous brown cartons, each one containing an item that wasn't quite right.

Sort of the opposite of a toy store, really.

Dauntless

Around here, winter has been rather unsatisfying this year. I saw more snow in Georgia in December than I did in my neighborhood all winter long, but since we were still scuffed by every single major storm to pass our way, the weather has been extra cold and extra windy.

And it's the bitter wind that can really get you, especially in that predawn hike from the parking lot to the school. I keep a box of tissues on my desk just to wipe my nose and eyes every morning.

When confronted with such adversity, it is always my first instinct to hunch my shoulders, lower my head, and brace my entire being against the blitz, but this winter has taught me something new. Instead of bowing to the wind, I lift my chin, square my shoulders, and march straight ahead!

Right to my box of tissues.

The Facts About Fiction

Several students gasped when the bell rang at the end of class, then lifted their voices in a collective cry of "Whaaaaaaat?" So intent were they on building believable characters for their fiction pieces that they lost track of the time.

"Can we please keep working on this at home?" someone pleaded as she hastily packed up her books.

What's that? You're asking for homework?

Now that's a good lesson!

Z and the Horrible, No Good, DST

The time change did not agree with Z, one of my favorite homeroom students. Because Z requires self-contained classes, I only get to see him in the morning, but I always enjoy those few minutes. He gets to the room a little before the other students, and it is then we usually have our most interesting conversations.

"I want to throw my iPad out the window," he told me a couple weeks ago.

"Okay!" I answered, "Let me do it for you." And I opened the hopper window next to him and slid his device between the glass and the screen. Then I locked the window. There was no way he could reach it.

"No!" he said, "I want to throw it out to the parking lot!"

"We can't" I shrugged, "because of the screen."

"Oh," he sighed. "Then can I have it back?"

"Are you going to follow the directions?" I asked.

"I promise!" he told me, so I gave him back his iPad.

And that's how it is with him. When he's looking for a fight, you have to bob and weave, like this morning.

"Snatch my iPad," he ordered me, "just snatch it away!"

"Are you g-r-u-m-p-y, grumpy, from losing an hour?" I asked him. "Because I am!"

In response he removed his shoes. "I'm going to the bathroom," he told me, "and I'm going to throw my socks in the toilet!"

"Go ahead," I answered, "but then you'll have to wear wet socks all day."

"I'm going to eat my lunch!" he threatened next.

"If that will make you feel better," I nodded, "but you will probably be really hungry later on."

"Then I'll sit on the table!" he said.

"Too bad that's against the rules," I reminded him.

"Call my mom!" he cried. "Just call her!"

"What will I tell her?" I asked.

"Tell her I'm coming home!"

"But nobody's there to let you in," I said, sympathetically.

And so we continued, until he finally agreed to go to the clinic where he laid down to try and get back that hour of sleep.

My School Slice for the Day

Here's what I posted to my class writing challenge today:

Today I'm going to try something new. As a special thank-you to everyone who has gone the extra mile and posted and replied to this writing challenge, I'm going to put a little puzzle into my Slice of Life. If you can solve the mystery and tell me the answer tomorrow, you will receive the reward of a Jolly Rancher! That's quite a prize, eh? (I'll also post a clue to every slice today, so keep checking.)

Here's the riddle: There are 25 in my slice; one is missing. Which is it?

And as the slices came in, I provided the following clues:

It’s not you.

It’s not why.

Are is not it.

Gee, no.

It’s not, eh?

It’s not the eye.

Oh? No.

N NO

See? No.

K NOT

Tease there

So’s z

Andy

4Fs

Mmmmmmmmmm

It’s naughty.

J’s in jolly.

So many els

X? Present!

What about you, dear reader? Can you solve the riddle?

Royal Role Model

We saw Black Panther today, and my favorite character was definitely Shuri, who is King T'Challa's younger sister, and a scientific genius in charge of all the king's technology. With a job kind of like Q's in James Bond, Shuri is also hilariously irreverent and a determined warrior when necessary. My students love this movie-- one of them called it, "the best movie that landed on earth!"-- and how awesome is it for them to see a young, gifted, assertive, successful, black, female character who is just a few years older than they are?

And technically? Since Marvel Entertainment is wholly owned by The Walt Disney Company, she's a Disney Princess, too. 

Uncle

I like to think of myself as a very healthy and hearty soul, one who soldiers on even in the most trying of times. BUT... after a whole box of tissues and when the saline, neti pot, ginger tea with honey and lemon, breathe-right strips, peppermint shower gel, and even chicken soup had reached the limits of their effectiveness, I gave in and took a sick day from work, hoping that rest might activate the other remedies and finally clear the congestion in my head and chest.

I hated to do it, but I have to admit, I do feel better.

Ask a Librarian

A student walked into after-school study hall in the library this afternoon with an open can of Coke in his hand and sauntered over to a table near where I was sitting. His confidence momentarily disarmed me. Have they changed the rules since the last time I was here? I wondered. It really hadn't been that long, but I guessed anything was possible.

"Are you allowed to have soda in the library?" I asked him, with genuine curiosity. Even though I have worked in the same school for 25 years, it was well within the realm of possibility that I could be out of the know.

He looked a little confused. "I think so."

I raised my eyebrows and shrugged in an exaggerated I-don't-know-about-that kind of a way. "You better check with them." I pointed at our pair of librarians, primly seated side by side, at a table near the checkout desk.

To his credit, he went right over. "Can I have this in here?" he asked, hoisting the can.

The alarm on their faces confirmed my suspicion (and made me giggle).

"No!" said the first.

"Not with all the books and the computers!" added the second.

I couldn't see his face, but it must have been filled with dismay.

"Sorry," they told him, gently, in unison.

He tossed the can in the trash and came back my way. "You were right," he sighed.

"Yep," I nodded. "Let me know if you need any help on your homework"

Let's Stay in Touch

My wife teaches social skills for students with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and one of her kids, William, has warned her all year long that the telephone list on her wall was out of date. "That's going to be a problem, Skipper," he says, and the other day he was right. One of the students had a little meltdown requiring an administrator's support, but for some reason there was no answer in the main office when she called. Deciding to phone the assistant principal directly, she looked at her list and realized that neither he, nor his office were in the building last year, and so, William was right.

William's mom is a colleague of ours, and so we knew right away when her father-in-law passed away over the weekend. Extending my condolences to her, I asked how William was taking it since he was very close to his grandfather. "It's beginning to sink in," she told me, "but when we told him the news, the first thing he said was, We'll have to take him off our contact list."

We laughed at the pragmatism of such a reaction; it's that kind of quirkiness that makes even the most challenging middle schoolers so much fun.

Just a few minutes ago, I clicked over to my Facebook account and was presented with a memory from three years ago today, when we went out to celebrate our wedding with a friend from out of town. It was a lovely evening, a memory to treasure, made even more so by the fact that our friend passed away unexpectedly a few months later.

Apologies to William, but I'm glad he's still on my contact list.

Community Outreach

I crossed paths with a bundled-up woman being pulled along by a perky black and white dog on my way out of school this afternoon.

"Ms. S!" she hailed me. "I'm Connor's mom!"

I peered a little more closely at the rosy face beneath the crochet beret. "Hello!" I greeted her warmly. "This must be Piper!" I continued, leaning down and patting the dog.

"Yes!" she answered, "but how do you know? We just got her Sunday."

"Oh, Connor wrote all about it for the writing challenge," I explained. "It was a pretty exciting event."

She beamed. "I'm so happy he's doing that," she told me, "and he told me he really likes it so far."

It was my turn to smile. "Thanks for letting me know!" Just then the puppy gave an energetic yank on the leash. "Enjoy your walk!" I waved. "Nice to meet you, Piper!"

28 Day Warranty

It’s always hard to leave the beach, and today it was especially difficult since

our brand new car wouldn’t start!

Half of our group was already gone when the nifty trick of simply placing my foot on the brake and pushing the button yielded no results, not even the click click of the key in the ignition. There was no explanation on the  fancy screen; it too remained blank and powerless.

How could a 4 week old battery be dead? You ask. We asked the same, but luckily my nephews had jumper cables, and  after considerable searching I found the hood release. By then a work crew had arrived to replace a deck on the house and the others in our party had returned. Once connected , power immediately returned to the dash and display, and a few tries later the engine turned over.

We all agreed I should keep it running until we got home, and we made it without further mishap. It’s starting just fine now, and I have a courtesy visit already scheduled with the dealer for Saturday. You bet we’re going to have a few things to discuss. 

Just, Wow

When it comes to vacations, especially those involving rental homes, I am usually sooo organized. But this time? Getting organized for our Oscar weekend away was extremely challenging for me. Maybe it was the wind, or trying to coordinate with all our far-flung folks, or the little head cold I was battling, but I pulled out of my parking lot with a full car which was lacking a few essentials. Oh, we made do without the cumin, the coffee grinder, and the tinder and kindling, but when it came to the actual Oscar ballots, well... the pool must go on.

Problem solvers that we are, I grabbed my phone and packed up my laptop for an extra measure and headed north to the nearest town and its office supply store. Once in the copy section, I must have looked a little lost, because a clerk hailed me from behind the counter. "Do you have some questions, ma'am?"

"I need to print a file from my phone, or computer," I told her somewhat helplessly, "what's the best way?"

"You can email it to that address," she gestured with her thumb over her shoulder, "and then follow the prompts on the copy machine."

What! I was shocked at this amazing technology. I did as she suggested and then stepped to the machine. What awaited me there was even more amazing. I could actually connect to my Google drive and print any document there.

Mind?

Blown!

Ballots?

Printed!

In color, no less.

Star Bright

Time with family is wonderful, and yet... coordinating 10 people and 3 dogs can be a challenge. Still, we are nothing if not a congenial bunch, and so we hatched a plan that included activities and options for everyone. We all explored Leonardtown had a fun lunch in a restaurant in a converted Victorian home. After some shopping and coffee, we split into two groups, half heading home to walk the beach with the dogs, and the other half off to explore thrift shops and discounters and pick up some groceries. Back home again, we snapped into action as a cooperative team, some building a fire, others putting out snacks and drinks, and some starting dinner. At one point, my part of the well-oiled machine involved going out to the car to fetch a bag that had been inadvertently behind. Closing the door purposefully behind me, I strode to the car and then paused midstep to look up at the night sky. Oh! The stars! How they shine out here! All the hectic energy of the day drained away beneath them. The warm light of the house beckoned me, and with a full heart and light step, I headed back inside.

March Miracle

As the years pass and the kids in our family grow up, Oscar weekend at the beach becomes an increasingly complicated affair. This year, our getaway is for 10 people and three dogs, and although the fabulous bay house we have rented is a little less than two hours from home, the overall logistics of our gathering included a flight from Minnesota and one from Florida, a road trip from Western Massachusetts, trading the second half of a double shift at the last minute, and a three car caravan through the gusting winds of Winter Storm Riley. With so many moving pieces, it seems like sheer luck that 9 out of 10 of us are here, with one boy left to arrive tomorrow. Sure, the wind is howling and the surf is pounding (all the better to stir up those shark teeth and sea glass), but inside we are together and warm, with sixty-four hours of mini-vacation to look forward to.

Student View

On the last day of our enrichment session a group of students preformed the drama circle they had written. Entitled "A Day in the Life of a Dolphin Student" it took us through a typical sixth grade schedule. They hilariously captured the essence of each one of the team teachers, poking fun at us without crossing the line into disrespect.

Here's how they dramatized my class:

Person 1) Good morning Ms. S (wave)

Ms S) Get you log checked, record your log, clear your desk, get into canvas, and enter Modules. (list on fingers, across like it’s an on-going list)

Ms S) 5. (shout)

Ms S) You better hurry up! (shout)

Ms S ) 3 (shout)

Ms S)If not you will have lunch detention! (shout)

Ms S) 0 (shout)

Ms S) Done! You should be in modules, modules! MODULES!!! and then I’d like you to click on…

Person 1) But I’m not done! (frustrated shout)

Ms S) I gave you a bunch of time… (act nonchalant, smart alecky)

Person 1) You didn’t even count even numbers!! (frustrated shout, throw arms in air)

Ms S) Life isn’t always fair… Ahahahahahaha (start laughing maniacally)

Person 4). Um, Why are you laughing at you own joke? (act really confused)

Ms S) Hahahahahahahahaha (laugh uncontrollably, maniacally)

S) It’s funny! (throws arms into the air)

Person 1) (roll eyes)

Sound effects) *Bringggg*

For the record? Although I am known for laughing at my own jokes (only when they're funny!), I do not skip numbers or give lunch detention.

Write On

A student ended his first writing challenge post like this:

My goal is to try to make it 100 days but I highly doubt that. Personally it’s a lot harder than Ms S says it is, because you have to write something about your day but most of the time my days are boring and routine so I don’t know how long this will last.

To which I immediately replied:

I never said it was easy! I just said it would be worth it.

You never know; you might surprise yourself.

I like how this is going so far! 

Nulla Dies Sin Linea

Another year, another 100 Day Writing Challenge has begun. I always kick off the activity with a description of the day I started this blog, March 1, 2009. A Sunday morning, it was threatening to snow, and I carried my coffee and my laptop over to the fire and clicked through some of my favorite teacher websites. It was then that I stumbled across the 2nd annual month-long slice of life writing challenge sponsored by Two Writing Teachers and starting that very day. Why not? I thought.

Writing every day was a fun challenge, but it was the readership and the sense of community that really captured my heart and imagination. When on April 1 I woke up with no real requirement to write, I decided to continue anyhow for as long as I thought it was worthwhile. And here we are today, 3285 days later with, as that old writing teacher guru, Donald Graves, would say, nulla dies sin linea, not a day without a line.

It's a bit of a brag, but shared with the intention and hope to inspire my students to give first 10 days, then 20, and then 100 days of writing a crack. I know from personal experience they won't be sorry.

Hippo Birdy to Lucy

All my life people have told me how lucky I am to have a summer birthday. "I guess so," I usually shrug without giving it much thought.

Heidi, born in November usually takes her birthday off; she is serious about celebrating. She even insisted that we always did something fun for our dog, Isabel, on her July 17th birthday, and our cat, Bingo, on his July 31st birthday.

Well, today was Lucy's first birthday, and, like most Mondays, we went to work and came home late. Wow. I guess school-year birthdays do kinda suck. Oh sure, she got the usual love and kindness and a walk to the dog park, but there was nothing special. Rather than feeling guilty, we consoled ourselves today with the promise that Lucy would spend all of next weekend at the beach with her cousin, Rosie.

AND, since she was born on an Oscar weekend, it's almost like having a holiday birthday.

Almost.

Our Canine Village

After being out of the house all day, Heidi and I were running a quick errand before going home to our pets. We had had a fantastic Sunday of brunch and documentary shorts, but Heidi worries about the three of them-- tomorrow Lucy will be a year, but she is the senior member of their group, and believe me? Such a fact is sobering.

"Oh my gosh!" I cried, glancing out the window, "look at that golden doodle! It looks exactly like Lucy!" As we rolled past, I started to laugh. "That was Lucy!" I said.

Our good friend and neighbor Lauren had taken her for a run with her dog, Lady. As it turns out, several of our neighbors had stepped up and entertained little Lu Lu. Her day was just as fun as ours, and Heidi was very relieved.

You Can't Please Everybody

We said goodbye to our old carpet this morning by inviting three neighborhood dogs to come in out of the foggy rain and take advantage of our cleared out living room. For a solid 90 minutes it was practically an indoor dog park with plenty of runnin' and wrasslin'.

Lucy? Loved it! And it made it possible for her to rest (somewhat) easily, closed in the bedroom with both of us and the cats all afternoon.

They are finishing up the trim on our new floor right now, and as nice as it will be, I don't think the dogs will like half as much.

Shoulda Woulda

"February? That would be this weekend!" I said to the floor salesman. "I don't think we can clear out the rooms by then."

"Oh," he assured me calmly, "you don't have to move the furniture, just anything loose or breakable."

I surveyed the living room with its loaded bookshelves and considered the discount. "Deal," I told him.

And now? 20 bankers boxes later? Well, I guess it's too late to reconsider. 

Pleasantly Surprised

"How long has it been since you've had a filling?" the dental assistant asked.

"It's been ages," I told her, "I really can't remember."

I was there not because I had a cavity, but because some of my old metal fillings were ready to be replaced. On the walk from school I had made peace with the unavoidable sharp sting of the novocaine needle, and I was actually very relaxed in my reclining dental chair.

"This tastes terrible," she said, placing a cotton swab against the inside of my cheek, "but it's pretty good numbing. You'll feel pressure but no sharpness."

She was half right. The stuff didn't taste too bad at all, but from that point on, the procedure was painless. Thirty minutes later I was out on the street and headed back to school, two brand new composite fillings in place. The left side of my nose felt a little weird, but, as promised, it wore off within a couple hours.

Civil Disobedience

"Did you hear about the walkout?" one of my students excitedly demanded this morning before homeroom.

I actually had heard some vague rumors about an action today in support of those who had lost friends, family, or their own lives at Douglas High last week.

"Will we get in trouble if we do it?" she asked.

"Why does that matter?" I countered. "If it's a cause you believe in strongly enough to break the rules, then you should also be willing to accept the consequences."

She considered my point briefly. "Are you going to block the door or yell at us?" she continued.

"No," I answered.

"So we won't be in trouble, then?"

"I don't know," I answered, "I haven't heard how the administration will respond."

"So we're allowed to do it?" she asked.

"If you're allowed to do it, it's not exactly a walkout," I told her.

"I don't want to get in trouble," she said.

"I understand," I answered, "but a little trouble might be the price you have to pay for standing up for your beliefs. It's your decision."

I saw her again at 12:20 on her way back to class after the 17 minute protest. "I'm so glad I did that!" she called. "It was amazing! AND I don't even care if I get in trouble. It was the right thing to do!"

"Way to go!" I nodded and gave her two thumbs up.

Together in the Backyard Again

My quarterly reading class is analyzing Billy Collin's poem "On Turning Ten". As part of the activity, I always ask the students to recall one event from each year of their lives, kind of as the speaker does in the poem.

At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

"Try to capture the spirit of who you were at each age," I tell them. "Think of what you loved, what you believed, what was new, what you lost."

Today I looked out at the class, grasping for a timely example to illustrate what I meant. I thought of my nephew, Richard, who is also in sixth grade. "Like, at four, you loved the Backyardigans," I suggested.

"Yes!" many of them agreed, their heads nodding, their eyes misting nostalgically. And before you knew it, through the miracle of personal technology, the theme song from the show drifted dissonantly from table to table, as a roomful of 11 and 12 year olds were temporarily reacquainted with their cute little preschool selves.

Oh Crap!

Kyle and Josh's graduations are the same weekend, 930 miles apart.

Now that's going to take some diplomacy.

Stay tuned.

True Love

Like any married couple, we have our routines. One of them is that Heidi likes to sleep in on weekends, and so as the earlier riser, I take the dog out, make the coffee, and feed the pets. Our last dog, Isabel, was definitely a canine introvert, and since she was 13 when we lost her, I also remember her as especially compliant. Taking her out in the morning was a five minute job.

Lucy? Not so much. First of all, she's a dog's dog-- she knows all the many many dogs in the neighborhood by sight, and she never met a dog she didn't want to pull your arm out of the socket to greet. Peeing and pooping take a back seat to any other distraction, especially dogs, and did I mention we have a lot of dogs around here?

So... not only do I have to interact and be all neighborly with every other dog owner we meet, I also have to wait at least 15-20 minutes before my first cup of coffee.

Awwwww

"Have you seen Milo and Tibby  recently?" Heidi called down the stairs this afternoon.

"Nope," I replied. "Are they in the guest room?"

"No," she reported. "Are they by the sliding glass door?"

"No," I said. "Maybe they're under the bed?" I suggested, shrugging. "I'm sure they'll turn up."

A little while later I went in to the living room for a magazine. "I found the kittens!" I called to Heidi.

What You Can Do

Today was the last day for students to work on their persuasive technique commercials in class, and I spent a lot of it dashing from "set" to "set" to supervise them as the shot their scenes. Maybe it's not surprising considering the amount of commercial media they consume, but I have to say that they are much more creative, ingenious, and funny than I am, and overall the products look pretty good.

"Will you watch our commercial and tell us what we need to fix before we turn it in?" a student asked at one point.

"No," I answered.

"I think it's good," she told me, "but I just want you to check it."

"The idea of the assignment is for you to do your best on your own, so I can see if you understand the concepts of the unit. If I tell you what to fix, it won't be your own independent work," I said. "Use the guidelines and the rubric, and I will be happy to answer questions about them or the persuasive techniques."

"I would learn what I don't know if you told me what I needed to fix," she argued. "I'm a super-fast learner."

"Then I'm sure your commercial is great!" I said.

Open and Closed

My students recently completed their "This I Believe" essays, and I tried to write one along with them, following the prescribed steps, just as I had them do.

Well... it wasn't easy! But here's what I came up with:

I Believe in Doors.

I must have been in my third year of college when it dawned on me: I would never be Miss America. It was the first time I heard the definitive click of a door locking forever in my life. Sure, doctor, lawyer, president were all still possibilities, but, whether I wished for it or not, it was clear to me that I would never walk down that runway in my sash and tiara, tears flowing, clutching my victory bouquet and waving as Burt Parks sang.

Of course, I didn’t wish for it, had never taken a step in my life toward it, but I felt a bit of sting realizing that there was at least one “never” in my life. What other nevers are there? I wondered then, but at 20, the list seemed pretty short. Now, thirty-five years later, I have walked away from many closed doors, some without remorse, some with more than a bit of regret, some I closed myself, some I never tried, and some were locked by the time I got there.

There’s a Chinese proverb that as an educator I find meaningful. It goes something like, Teachers open the door, but you must pass through it on your own. In my career, I’ve had countless conversations with wayward students encouraging them to be more mindful of their choices, if only to keep as many doors as possible open for themselves in the future. I won’t be standing there holding the door forever.

But at their age they still believe that anything can happen, and the connection between their actions and their choices is too abstract to grasp. They haven’t learned what sound a closing door makes, but that doesn’t mean that doors aren’t closing. And not all doors are created equal. The Olympians competing right now have dedicated much if not most of their young lives to achieve the opportunity to compete. That heavy door is open because they have thrown most of their young lives against it.

I once read that it’s a good idea take the opportunity to turn our minds to the present any time we pass through a doorway during the day. Whether we are coming or going or simply changing rooms, we can allow crossing a threshold to be a reminder to focus on the now. I like that advice, because I believe that it is in the present that we find the keys to the metaphorical doors we may encounter in the future.

Counter-Intuituve

Last quarter I had two of my students, whose behavior can be rather challenging, three times a day-- for intervention, reading class, and English class. Instead of wearing my patience ever thinner, I found that the more time I spent with those guys, the better-behaved they were. Go figure.

Now I only see them once a day, during the last class period that I teach, and I find myself  aggravated with them much more frequently. Today I gave one of them a warning look and asked him to step over to my desk.

Before I could say a word, he shook his head and looked at me. "Don't you miss seeing me all the time?" he asked.

"Yes!" I told him, "I really do! Now, about throwing that paper..."

Future Mad Men

My students are working on a popular little mini-unit centered on media literacy and persuasive techniques. As the culminating project, they form teams to plan, write and produce a commercial for an imaginary product (which is in reality either a kitchen gadget or a combination of kitchen gadgets). In general, they love the activity because it lets them collaborate, and be creative and funny.

Before they start shooting, they must first come up with a concept, including catchy name and slogan, and submit it to me for approval. It's rare that I veto any idea, but the group that wanted to use "Grab your balls and start bouncing today!" was an exception. I did let "For 10 bucks and a nickel we'll give you a tickle!" slide, though.