The Missing Piece

Much like last week, my office hours today were attended by lonely sixth graders looking for a little conversation. That's fine by me, though; it's hard to replace the social piece of school, and if being present for an hour is helpful, then I'm in.

This time I split my required hour into two half hour sessions, one in the morning and one in the early afternoon. One of the students who stayed on for the whole hour last week, attended both of the conferences today. He didn't have any questions about the material, and once my 2 minute presentation was over, neither did his classmates, so we just chatted about what their days are like. They gave each other video game, TV, and movie recommendations; a few mentioned books and new hobbies; everyone said they missed school.

At the end of the last session, it was just me and a couple of boys, one of them the frequent flyer. The three of us had just wrapped up a conversation about whether or not we like scary movies in a scary time (nope!) and who's allowed to watch R-rated movies (just me!), and I was getting ready to end the conference. "Ms. S?" my regular attendee interrupted. "Do you have an x-box?"

I had to confess I didn't. "Maybe that should be my pandemic purchase," I laughed.

Watch and Learn

Heidi and I have had our Apple watches for about 5 years now; so long that, not only have they become one of the devices we rely on daily, but we take for granted their ability to track our activity, alert us immediately to the news and weather, answer calls and texts, and oh yes, tell the time. Apple is always pushing down new tweaks and features, many of the look-what-our-watches-can-do-now novelty version, and to be honest, we rarely even notice them.

Recently, more time and fewer choices about spending it, have made our activity and workouts kind of a bigger focus in our daily lives. I always checked my rings, but now I'm looking at my trends, too. I want those arrows by exercise, distance, cardio fitness, walking pace, running pace, and stand minutes per hour to be pointing up, even though part of me knows quite well that no arrow left behind is just a statistical impossibility.

Another feature our watches have offered is the ability to share exercise activity with a friend. The idea seems mostly to encourage friendly competition, but Heidi and I know better than that. We started sharing activity a couple weeks ago with a promise to never compete. So now, any time either of us finishes a workout or completes an achievement, the other gets a notification, even if we're standing right next to each other. But, what could be very annoying, also comes with the perk of being able to shoot off a little prewritten message of encouragement.

And, those writers at Apple are pretty clever: it's rare that we don't get a giggle out of our options, whether we want salty or sweet. For example, after a long walk, we can send Did you miss the bus? or You're wearing out those shoes! 

Some of the other gems:

Oof! Can't match that!
#gifted
Pop and fizz!
Don't hurt yourself.
Numbers don't lie.
Now that's some walking
#micdrop
Feeling more flexible?
You're my favorite runner.

Not only that, but the algorithm is smart enough to give us new choices every time.

Oh, it's a small pleasure, but aren't those the ones that count most right now?

Apples to Apples

One of my go-to dessert recipes is a sour cherry cake published in the Washington Post for Thanksgiving in 2002. I have a well worn photocopy of the original article that I keep on a magnet on the side of the fridge.

Over the years, I have riffed several variations on that cake, including a peach version with chili and lime, which is a delicious finale to grilled fajitas in the summer. One thing I have never done, however, as much as I love that recipe, is bake the second cake from the same piece. But all that changed yesterday when a neighbor put out an SOS because she had five pounds of apples she couldn't use.

We immediately came to the rescue. My first thought was apple sauce, but I decided that I wanted to make something a little more satisfying, since we are, y'know, stuck at home indefinitely. I considered apple pie or galette, and then briefly considered an apple version of the cherry cake, until it occurred to me that there was actually an apple cake on the same page, just waiting for a try. And when I read the recipe? I was sold!

A "cake" in name only, it has a pastry bottom, enriched with egg yolks and a crumbly streusel topping. In between, you boil the apples with vinegar and sugar that bakes into a sweet and sour filling. It's delicious! And, it was fun to make and more than big enough to share with the neighbors.

Satisfying, indeed.

Grab a Bucket and Mop

Another thing that's great about our place, is that the two of us can clean it thoroughly in a couple hours. Six weeks ago, cleaning anything definitely would not have been our preferred way to spend a Sunday morning, but I have to admit, it's up there now. There is just something very gratifying about such a concrete accomplishment.

The Ladies Upstairs

We have lived in our townhouse-style condo since early 1999. Over the years we have considered buying a bigger place, mostly to accommodate more guests, but with 2 ensuite bedrooms and a half bath downstairs, the place, although compact, has more than enough space for the two of us, a dog and two cats. There are a few inconveniences to be sure; probably our biggest beef has been the lack of storage for our bikes, and not having a good place to grill outside is also a headache, but in general, we have been very happy here.

Our unit has two floors, and there is another condo below us. When we first moved in our neighbor downstairs was a quiet architect named Joe who kept the landscaping around our building immaculate. When Joe took advantage of low interest rates in the mid-2000s to buy a house, he sold his place to Steve, another quiet guy who traveled a lot and rode his bike for fun. Steve moved out a couple of years ago, and our new neighbor was Trevor, a young man starting his career as a government employee.

There was something about Trevor's enthusiasm and earnestness that reminded me of some of my former students grown up, and he and I bonded the first morning he lived here when his car was towed and I helped him get it back and get to work on time. After that we would trade text messages almost daily. But Trevor must have been good at what he did, because only a couple of months later he was offered a promotion which entailed a move to New Jersey.

The condo stood empty for a while; the market was soft and it must not have made sense to sell it right away. A few people did move in and out of the place, but they kept such a low profile and stayed such a short time that we only jokingly began to refer to the place as a witness protection safe house. All that changed earlier this week when a guy named Clayton, his partner and their three-legged dog moved in.

It's only been a few days, but I can hear their music clearly enough to tell that they like Paul Simon and several other rocking singer-songwriters from the late 20th century. Their music has been my music all day today, and I can only hope the intermittent banging is just temporary picture hanging and furniture placing racket.

I know that everyone is staying home and we are all in closer quarters than usual, but for goodness sakes! For the first time in 21 years, we might have to go knock on the door and ask them to keep it down, all ready!

Office Hour

I had ten students "stop by" for my first virtual office hours today. Some of them had a simple question or two, but most of them simply wanted to hang out on the video chat, see the other kids, type jokes in the comments, and show us their pets.

An assistant that I work with was there, too, and so we just kind of visited with the kids as they came in and out, asking for TV and movie recommendations, how they are staying in touch with their friends, what they do to keep from total boredom. It was nice to connect, and one of the toughest kids I have in class stayed on the whole time, which was gratifying.

And although I enjoyed the session, at the end of the hour, I was certain of one thing:

An hour?

Is too long!

Next week I'll do 2 thirty-minute sessions.

No Comment

I had a little bit of a shock today when I checked my personal e-mail only to find a comment had been left on yesterday's post on this blog by "Mom".

Regular readers know that my mother passed away last October, but until then? She was my most loyal reader. My mother never was much of a commenter, though. No, she preferred to talk about my writing in our regular phone conversations, where she knew she could get the unedited version of any story, full of juicy details.

And today, I knew, of course I knew, that it wasn't really a comment from my mom, but I lingered over the link for a little, imagining what such a comment might say.

Sharing the Road

I read a report today of a Florida man (yes, really) who threatened a mass shooting in a grocery store because many of the people in there were not wearing masks. I can believe it. Negotiating social distance in public spaces can be harrowing.

Last week, when Heidi made a wide arc around three young men walking toward her as she ran with Lucy, one of the guys yelled, "What would you do if I touched you?

To which my wife replied, "I'd let my dog bite you!"

Well, he did ask.

The next day, we were hiking in a regional park with my sister-in-law and nephews. A fellow hiker was very upset that the guys were standing too close to each other and their mom. He stood by the side of the trail and bellowed at us that we were peeing in the pool. "It's all ruined now," he moaned, as if in physical pain. When another family walked past us in the opposite direction, he shouted that the distance they chose was not six feet. Obviously disturbed, he huffed and groaned and sighed along behind us for some way, until at last he shouted, "Passing! Passing! Clear the trail!" Which we happily did.

And then just tonight our neighbor was out running when she stopped at a traffic light alongside a family of three on their bikes. "That is not 6 feet," the mom scolded her.

"That is not the bike lane," our friend snapped back. "You're on the sidewalk."

It's hard to cut each other slack when we are all wound so tightly. Normally one might recommend taking a deep breath in any of these situations, but these days?

Even that seems dangerous.

Mic Drop

A lot has been written lately about the etiquette of online meetings, but I don't think everybody has gotten the message. The basics are to mute your microphone unless you are speaking, especially in a large group. It is probably also wise to the same with the camera, or at least I intend to do so after sitting through an hour and a half meeting of 35 people watching folks scratch their heads, walk in and out of the frame, and drink coffee. Then the conversation came to an awkward halt when the unmistakable sound of farting blasted through the speakers. Props to the person facilitating, though, for her poised response. "We need to take a moment to remember our norms of muting the microphone unless we are speaking. I think we are getting some, uh, feedback, on the line."

I'll Try Not to Sing Out of Key

Just like after any break, I wasn't excited about getting back to work today. Perhaps there is some cold comfort in that, and to tell the truth? Yesterday, I couldn't have said if online teaching made it harder or not. But knowing today was a work day did cushion the landing a little.

And as it played out, having time to reestablish connections and collaborate with my colleagues before getting back to this tele-teaching thing we are inventing together day by day was immensely energizing and comforting, too. With texting, e-mail, GoogleDocs, MSTeams, and (shhhhhh) face to face communication, they pulled me out of the self-involved funk that has been so easy to fall into, isolated as we all are.

At the end of day, we have some fun and engaging activities all set for the kids tomorrow; in fact, I can't wait to see what they do!

Easter, Again

Usually Easter Sunday comes at the end of spring break, and sometimes knowing that we have to go back to work the next day drains more than a little of the joy from the holiday. In fact, over the years we've definitely minimized our celebrations, especially with no young kids nearby. And I thought that this year would be the same, except? Nothing is the same right now.

So, Heidi spent the week baking cookies to make little Easter bags for the local family and dog pack buddies, and at the grocery this morning I added white eggs and a dye kit to my cart. And then there were the plastic eggs we bought, long before the stay at home order, for Heidi to use with Lucy on nose work training.

And this morning? We rose in a golden dawn to deliver Easter treats, dye eggs, and have a couple of doggy egg hunts. This afternoon we visited with family, outside and ever mindful of distance, and tonight, there is lamb for dinner. 

A Different View

In an increasingly challenging attempt to kill two birds with one stone by getting in some steps while actually going somewhere, I walked the three miles up to my brother's house this afternoon. There, he and my sister-in-law and I spent a pleasant hour sitting six feet apart outside in the warm afternoon sun.

When it was time for me to come home, I ducked around the corner to a bike share station to take advantage of the downhill route. Perhaps it was the wind in my hair, but as I was pedaling, it seemed like a fine idea to pursue a more meandering path, and so I cut through the neighborhoods and past our school.

Once there, I could not simply ride by the deserted brown brick building that has been my work place for so many years. No, I steered the bike past the garden and around to the front and paused on the walkway in front of my classroom. The window faces west, and the golden April afternoon sun shone on it like a mirror. I squinted to see the bookshelves, the chalkboard, or something else inside, but all I saw was me on a borrowed bike remembering how the light used to fall across my desk at just this time of the day.

Stuck in the Middle

After several days of mild weather and many spectacular hours spent outside, the sunshine and blue skies today are such a tease when north winds gusting up to 30 mph bluster out there as well. Oh, we took our daily walks, but each time, streets transformed into howling wind tunnels turned us back in disappointment.

At home, I pulled out a the turtlenecks, fleece, and flannel for what could be their last turn of the season, put on a big pot of soup, and there will be a fire crackling on the hearth before dark. Such are the comforts of a cold day!

Just as the season can't make its mind between winter and spring, I guess I can't either.

Socially Distant Urban Adventures

Over the last several weeks I have expanded my knowledge of the immediate neighborhood, discovering places and paths I like to call "super secret" between and behind the historic garden condos right up the hill. I've found meandering 3-5 miles routes through the adjoining neighborhoods as well, up steep hills and past all manner of tear-downs and renovations.

On some days, we pile the dog into the car and take off for nearby places, too, as long as we're confident they won't be as crowded as the bike trails and running paths that everyone is desperate to use. An early hour is always helpful, as is a cloudy day, and this morning we made our way to the Washington Harbour at the foot of Georgetown.

At 8:45 AM traffic was light and we were there in 10 minutes, an amazement of its own. From there we walked the boardwalk south toward the boat house, crossed a bridge over Rock Creek and entered the C&O canal at its origin and followed it a couple of miles north counting the turtles basking in the sun, where we turned down some stone steps to pick up the Capital Crescent Trail.

By then the bike traffic was a bit heavier, and it was time to turn back toward the city, so we followed the river on a paved path lined with vetch, wisteria, dewberries, honeysuckle and purple dead nettle, past a sycamore tree garlanded with a dozen crested cormorants perched high above their usual watery domaine, under the old stone aqueduct, and through a landscaped park to our starting point.

Pandemic Productivity

The other morning I was lying on the floor trying to find the energy to put my sneakers on when my gaze landed on the top of the closet door. I'm not exaggerating when I say that we have been muscling one of the two doors open and closed for ten years, because its track is bent. It's just one of those things that never quite rises to the level of "need to repair immediately!", and there you have it.

But on this particular day, I saw how simple it would be to remove the faulty track and replace it with a functioning version. It literally looked like a six-screws-out, six-new-screws-in job. Still on the floor, I searched for the part at a nearby big box home improvement store, and saw that it cost about 18 dollars. And so, a project was hatched.

The new parts sat in the corner for a few days, but yesterday I was determined to get that repair done, but I found that the battery on my cordless driver was dead. This afternoon, battery charged, I headed upstairs to conquer that closet door.

Despite my awareness of how heavy they were, getting the doors off was harder than I thought. Once they were propped against the foot of the bed, I climbed the step ladder to remove the bracket. Unfortunately, those screws had been in there for thirty-five years and a couple of paint jobs, and they did not yield to me like the hot knife through butter I imagined. Thank goodness I have been doing some arm exercises, because it took some over the head muscle to get those suckers moving.

Once the old track was out, I eagerly unwrapped the new one and read the directions. It was a straight-forward installation, and I lifted the new piece to the top of the closet frame. Except... it didn't fit. I angled and re-angled and pushed and tapped with a hammer, but despite being standard-sized, the dang thing was literally a quarter inch off.

Sighing, I looked at the toolkit and my eye fell on the hacksaw.

Could I?
I could.

Thirty minutes of brute finesse later, I had SAWED THROUGH METAL and was ready to continue the project. And this time, everything went according to plan. The track went up; I replaced the hardware on the doors, I swung them into place, and installed the bottom track. For the first time in a decade, our closet doors open as they should.

Perhaps there is a better way to fill my pandemic isolation time than with long put off do-it-yourself home projects, but what would that be?

Another Silver Lining

We met a couple of friends for a walk this morning. Ever mindful of social distance, we planned to meet early at a place we hoped would offer more than enough space for the four of us (and 2 dogs) to walk and chat. That's how we found ourselves in front of a deserted Natural History Museum right around 9 AM.

"It only took me 10 minutes to get here!" Mary reported gleefully.

"And parking was a breeze!" I replied, just as enthusiastically.

It may have been the overcast weather, but the wide gravel paths were practically ours alone as we strolled first up to the Capitol and around the grounds, but the sun was shining and the skies were blue by the time we turned toward the Botanical Gardens. It was hard not to feel anything but lucky to be able to enjoy one of most beautiful cities in the world on a day like this.

After that, it seemed impossible to do anything else except walk the full loop down past the Washington Monument, to the Lincoln Memorial and back. By then? There were a few more people and a little less parking, but we were ready to head home.

Age before...

I got up early, drove to the grocery store, and put on my mask, but when the first set of glass doors whooshed open, I was stopped by a burly young man, also in a mask, his arms crossed.

"Are you open?" I asked.

"We are," he nodded, "but only to shoppers 60 and over."

"Dang!" I said. "I'm 58." (Or... I will be in June.)

"Really?" he replied.

"Yep," I answered, pulling down my mask.

"You can go in, then," he told me.

Inside there were several shoppers all politely keeping social distance. Some wore masks, some did not; most were loading up on produce and lean proteins. I think I fit right in.

Rejoice and Be Glad

The sun was shining in a brilliant blue sky streaked with just a few high clouds this morning when I took the dog out. Cherry blossoms have subsided to pink crab apple and red bud, and the tulips are in full bloom. I even saw azaleas and lilacs that were close to flowering. The air was cool, but the sun was warm, and the birds were going nuts. It was impossible not to feel happy and even a bit hopeful.

Just then we ran into a neighbor and her dog. "This is the day!" she hailed me.

"What day?" I asked. "The day the Lord made?"

We laughed, because it was true, but we both knew it wasn't what she meant.

"This is the day that turns the corner from winter to spring," she told me. "I don't know... I just feel it in the air."

I had to agree.

Banditos' Masquerade

How strange it was to go into the grocery store just a few days ago and see all the folks wearing masks and scarves and what not over their mouths and noses. These were the early adopters of what the CDC is now recommending for us all when we venture out in to public places. Already the price of bandanas has tripled on Amazon, if you can find them in stock at all. Here at home we have a couple of buffs, courtesy of Camp Jefferson, our end of the year activity for the sixth graders (and another casualty of the pandemic). We also have a few bandanas, lots of cloth napkins, and the hair ties to transform those into masks for when we go... not outside (yet), but indoors to public places, when we must.

Could this situation get any more surreal?

Wise Beyond Their Years

Since today was the last day of *school* before *spring break* rather than give my students a quote of the day to respond to I asked them to post their own. In many ways, their replies to that task reveal more about how they are than anything else they've written in the weeks since our world turned upside down.

"You will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory" ~Dr. Seuss 

What lies behind us and what lies before us are but tiny matters compared to what lies within us." -Henry Stanley Haskins 

“The way I see it if you want the rainbow you have to put up with the rain” -Dolly Parton 

"The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." ~Nelson Mandela 

"Do or do not, there is no try." ~ Master Yoda 

“Fortune favors the bold.” ~Virgil 

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” ~Confucius 

"You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have." ~Cayla Mills 

“For a valiant heart nothing is impossible.” ~Jacques Coeur 

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.”~Mahatma Gandhi 

“A diamond is just a chunk of coal that did well under pressure.” ~Henry Kissinger.

I think they've got this.

Language Please

Admittedly late to the party, we have started pandemic-watching The Mandalorian, and yes, I totally see what all the baby Yoda fuss is about. There was an even more memorable moment in the first episode for me, though.

In our school district we have a lot of students who are English Language Learners. These kids have the formidable task of learning both a second language and the curriculum content at the same time. As their teacher, I have been to lots of training sessions that provide strategies to help me help those learners.

When it comes to training, teachers can be a pretty tough audience. We expect you to engage us, but please! No cutesy icebreakers or trite introductions. We do appreciate a good empathy activity, though. If you can give us just a sliver of what our kids might be struggling with, you have a captive audience.

And that's where The Mandalorian comes in. (Did you think I'd forgotten?) The show takes place in the Star Wars universe, a place I'm somewhat familiar with, but not a native by any means. Since it was a first episode, I expected to have to pay attention and learn my way; I know how important exposition is, and I was following right along until this bit of dialogue:

"A pauldron would be in order. Is your signet revealed? This is extremely generous. It will spawn many foundlings."

Uhhh

I know 18 out of 19 of the words in those sentences, but I'm not sure if 3 of them (signet, spawn, and foundlings) are being used with a meaning that I am familiar with. As for pauldron? No idea. And I couldn't figure it out from either the language context or the action context.

In short? I was lost.

But I did what most kids do in the same situation. I decided it wasn't that important right then and kept watching.

I just hope it's not on the test!

I Know it Well

On April 1, I'm the loneliest blogger around. All my other slice of lifers have packed up their  white hot keyboards and amazing writing for the year. Sure, there might be a new post here and there, but that month of connection is gone.

Of course, so is the pressure to write something better than just okay. Even so, I'll tough it out for now and continue with my daily writing, because like I told my students (remotely, of course) as they embarked on Day 32 of their 100 Day Writing Challenge: A bad day of writing is better than a day of no writing at all. 

Just Like Us

I like all these videos on social media lately of celebrities singing, reading poetry, and just talking from their homes. The content is... okay. I have definitely come to realize just how important editors and scripts really are, though. (And I won't even address the no makeup thing. Just. Wow.)

What I like best about these recordings is the inside of the houses. It's fascinating to see the paint, the furniture, the floors, the cabinets in the kitchen, the art on the walls, the knick knacks on the shelves. Kind of like walking in the evening and catching a glimpse of your neighbors through the light in their windows, it reminds you that everyone has a whole life as real to them as yours is to you.

Like one of Heidi's students said at the beginning of their first teleclass, his mind completely boggled, as images of his classmates and teachers tiled the screen. "Hey! Everyone is in a house!"

Space and Time

The facilities director met us at the front door of school this morning in disposable gloves and a mask. He apologized for having us sign in and politely requested that we limit our time in the building to no more than 15 minutes.

Heidi needed some materials from her own classroom further down the hall, and so we agreed to meet in mine when she was done.

I was only there to pick up my plants; they could have survived the 4 weeks away that had been announced when we left on March 13, but now that school was canceled for the rest of the year? Well.

When I opened the door to my classroom the sun was shining brightly enough that I didn't bother with the lights. It smelled like a school in there, a mixture of books and chalk and pencil shavings and crayons, maybe. It was a smell I recognized, but not one I expected. My room used to be odorless to me, like the water to a fish.

It didn't take long to pack up the assortment of succulents, cacti, philodendron, orchids, [un]lucky bamboo, and my Douglas Fir and Joshua Tree that I had grown from seed, and so I stood in the unlit room and looked around at the unfamiliar familiar. I have been teaching in that very classroom since 1994, longer than I've lived anywhere in my life, but today I felt my connection to that space fray just a bit.

And then Heidi was at my door, and we headed out into the deserted, but brilliant, spring day beyond.

Same Boat, Different Deck

When asked about her low during their virtual social skills class last week, one of Heidi's students answered, "Being nice."

"Being nice to who?" Heidi questioned. "Your family?"

"Yeah," the little girl sighed.

Her mom, who was sitting at her side, laughed ruefully. "It's been a bit of a challenge," she confirmed.

And of course, they aren't alone. Everywhere you look there are tales and tips of how to survive quarantine with your nearest and dearest without going crazy.

Here at our home, the situation has been quite pleasant, although our cats and dog may disagree. Heidi and are getting along just fine, but after 2 weeks of our undivided attention, our pets may be ready for a break, Lucy especially. That dog must be walking at least 10 miles a day when you add up the morning walk I take her on, the midday walk we all go on, and the early evening walk Heidi takes with a few neighbors and their dogs.

Some of our neighbors seem a little lax on the social distancing. Nobody wants to get sick or infect others, but everyone is creating their own playbook based on personal ideas of acceptable risk.

For example, yesterday afternoon we were returning from a 5 mile stroll through the neighborhood when we crossed paths with 3 women piling out of a car loaded with plants. Together, they had been to a local garden shop-- no social distancing possible on that ride. But we knew that the three of them each live alone, and such a break from complete isolation must seem more than acceptable.

I guess in a time when everyone is struggling, but not with exactly the same issues, the only remedy is empathy.

On the Case

I like puzzles and mysteries, and escape rooms? Are my jam. So I have been curious to check out some of the companies who send you episodic mystery boxes that you and your crew can work together to solve. But, their expense has always seemed a bit prohibitive, and it's been easy to shrug them off as too time consuming to fit my schedule.

Until last week, when I found myself with quite a bit a spare time on my hands and a little too much time to think about things I couldn't solve. That's when I finally placed my order for a murder mystery in six "episodes".

The box arrived earlier this week, but it wasn't until this morning that Heidi and I dug in (mostly because Heidi was holding out for an official "murder board" that we could use to track the suspects and clues. I finally convinced her to just take a look through the evidence, compromising with a stack of index cards, a legal pad, and a small 12x12 bulletin board with some push pins.

Our first job was to identify the murder weapon, using the documents and the link to the online dossier that were in the box. I'm sorry to report that it was a little too easy, although there were several clues and facts and a couple of codes we had to break that will probably come in handy later. At any rate, we emailed our solution and the next box is on the way.

It was enough fun that I looked into another company just to get an idea of their games, and I found that they have a 2 week backlog of orders. I guess great minds think alike.

Round the Clock

There is a pattern to my days. I wake feeling excited and optimistic for all that I will accomplish. I enjoy my coffee, walk the dog, and settle down to connect remotely with my students and then the world. A couple hours later, I'm all caught up-- emails answered, assignments commented on, crossword done, words with friends played, devastating news reports read and digested. And then I feel at loose ends. Some exercise, inside or out, helps a bit, and so does the ukulele, the meditation, the sit ups, and the writing. But I am restless, and all the uncertainties and fears of these difficult times begin to creep in. And it's not until the sun sets, and I am cooking dinner, and looking forward to watching something on TV (just like we did before) that I feel regular again. And a little while later? It's time to get some sleep, so that I'm ready for another day.

Undefined

Heidi was nervous about her first video conference with her social skills students, so I postponed my morning walk with the dog to offer technical support should she need it. My plan was to head out as soon as she was successfully online, but it didn't turn out that way. I was riveted by the joy and excitement in the kids' voices as they connected on the call, and I stood in the kitchen with tears in my eyes listening as they went through their daily routine of highs and lows, sharing their personal trials and triumphs of these last two weeks.

As happy as I was to hear their voices, for the first time since this crisis began I felt a little unmoored.

What is a teacher without a class? 

And They Knew that It Was Much More than a Hunch

I had a virtual meeting with my sixth grade interdisciplinary team today. Nobody told us we should; it just seemed like a good idea. So at 11 AM, I used a free online conferencing service and invited the rest of the team to join my meeting. Once everyone was on, I set my screen to tile view, and nine smiling faces formed a little tic tac toe board. It was for all the world like our own little version of the Brady Bunch opening.

We shared tele-teaching successes and challenges, and started a spreadsheet to keep track of kids who were not doing everything as expected and documenting any outreach to students and families. The Slice of Life writing my students are doing has allowed us to stay connected and it has also given me a window into their daily lives, so I added my colleagues to my learning management course, in case they wanted to check in with the kids, too.

It felt really great to be collaborating again in real time to support our students, and we all agreed to meet again next Wednesday, if not before. We've always been a good, well-functioning team, but these times are bringing us even closer.

There's Good in Every Day

One of my co-teachers video-called me this afternoon with a question about the ukulele. "How do you pick the strum pattern?" he wanted to know.

We chatted a little bit about online resources and tutorials, but I had to confess that my strumming skills were a bit rusty.

"But you know what?" I said. "It's so funny you called. I was just thinking this weekend that I was going to dig out my daily ukulele book and practice for 10 minutes a day while we're out of school."

"You and your 10 minutes!" he laughed, for he was privy to my 100 day self-challenge to meditate for 10 minutes a day (after my 100 sit ups, selfie, and blog post, of course).

"That's right," I told him. "In fact? If I ever write a book? That will be it: How to Do Anything in 10 Minutes a Day!"

The Fuzzy Head Prevails

I must have heard the patter of rain in my sleep last night, because I woke up thinking about foul weather gear. My rain coat, some tights under a pair of old nylon track pants, and my Bean boots were part of the plan as I jumped out of bed determined to carry on my new routine of longer dog walks in the morning. A cup of coffee, and I was good to go.

As I pulled my hood up, I noticed that my dog, Lucy, had other ideas. Rather than meeting me at the door, she was back in bed. Nature and her curiosity won her over, though, and I leashed her up and stepped out into a cold and pelting rain, ready to show what hearty stock I am, seize the day, and walk several miles through the elements.

But once she had taken care of her business, my dog balked at going any farther, literally giving me the side eye to show what she thought of my plan. When I insisted, tugging the leash, she lowered her head, willing the collar to slip loose. And so we stood in a cold, wet stand off, until I gave in and we returned to the warmth of our house.

Animal instinct has to count for something.

Trail Report

Another day, another ramble in the park. This morning we headed out pretty early to a relatively remote regional park, and although we had the trail mostly to ourselves, there were still several occasions when we politely stepped six feet over and allowed other walkers to pass. 

It may have been the socially distant thing to do, but it sure gave us an earful as groups approached and passed. For example, there was the lady hiking with about 8 other seniors and wailing "America" at the top of her lungs. God shed his grace on theeeeeeeeee! she sang off key.

Next, a man, perhaps in his sixties, passed us walking alone, but having a rather heated conversation on his phone. "Nobody gives a damn about the retirement savings of an 84 year old man! They have other things on their minds!" he scoffed as he marched away.

And then there was the little boy and his mom who we passed. The kid was up in the woods getting ready to climb on a rock. 

"Come back here!" his mom demanded.

"I can't," he insisted. "Social distance," he explained over his shoulder and kept on climbing.

"He can't stay distant forever," we laughed as we passed his scowling mom.

What We Can Do

We were doing a deep scrub of the kitchen and dining room when I took a soapy cloth to a couple of candle sticks that had been sitting on our sideboard for literally years. The silver plate polished nicely, yielding to my elbow grease. We should use these more, I thought as I replaced them, thinking then of Eleanor Roosevelt's words, It's better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

And isn't that what many of us have been doing? Long walks, a sparkling clean house, and apple pie-- that's what the eighth day of this crisis brought us. And who knows what tomorrow will be like, but tonight? There will be candlelight.

Earning their Kibble

I was giggling at my cat Tibby swatting and chasing her catnip mouse this morning when I logged in to check on my students' writing. I had asked them to share something that made them laugh this week, and I was eager to see what they posting. The mouse skidded over my socks with the cat in pursuit, but the hardwood floor was too slippery and Tibby overshot her quarry. She recovered with a nimble somersault and slapped the mouse into the living room where the chase continued.

I was still chuckling as I began to scroll through the moments of joy the kids had found in a week of uncertainty.

What do you know? Most of them? Were laughing at their crazy pets, too.

Quote of the Day

My approach to distance learning has been to maintain the daily announcement that I provide through our learning management system, and so students have worked through the agenda as usual, just at home and with no direct instruction. As part of the announcement, we always have a quote of the day, and this week has been no different in that respect either, except that I have asked the kids to respond to the QotD in writing and to post their thoughts on the class discussion board.

Here's what we've written about this week:

Monday: “She refused to be bored, chiefly because she wasn't boring.”~Zelda Fitzgerald 

Tuesday: “I find the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have." ~Thomas Jefferson 

Wednesday: “Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out." ~John Wooden 

Thursday: "A pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees opportunity in every difficulty." ~Winston Churchill

I've tried to choose aphorisms that give them the opportunity to process what's going on through a lens of optimism, but today, when I asked which one they were in response to Churchill's words, most identified as pessimists.

I was thinking about their responses as I took a walk this afternoon, and I wondered how I could lighten the mood a bit for tomorrow. I decided to use a quotation from Ben Franklin: "Trouble knocked at the door, but, hearing laughter, hurried away." and ask the students to share something that made them laugh this week.

I'm looking forward to reading what they write.

Just Doing Their Jobs

There was shouting outside our front door this morning and a heavy odor of mulch choked the air in our complex all day today. The ringing throb of a jackhammer on concrete pounded outside our windows all morning, too. I guess I'm spoiled-- usually I go to work and when I get home, all the maintenance and repair has magically been done. I never thought about the noise and disruption that accompanies such jobs.

Fortunately, the cement mixer idling and coughing in the parking lot at lunch time was a bit quieter, and the sidewalk replacement was all done by the time I got back from a short run.

I can't complain about any of it. It's good to know that some commerce goes on uninterrupted by closures, quarantines, and social distancing.

With My Own Eyes

It seemed like such a good idea. I read a piece in the NYTimes by a doctor who practiced 18 months of social distance back in 2003 in order to keep her premature babies as healthy as possible. She made it all seem so doable, especially the grocery shopping. She went late at night when the stores were nearly empty.

I knew yesterday would be a madhouse anywhere, but I thought that by early this morning some stores would be less crowded and restocked after a crazy weekend and the first Monday of widespread social distance. And so we set the alarm and armed with disinfectant wet wipes and hand sanitizer headed off optimistically at 6:30 AM for the nearest Wegmans. It almost seemed fun, like a silly lark.

Arriving 25 minutes later, we were heartened to see customers pushing carts with toilet paper to the cars. "It kind of makes me want to run," Heidi said, and we laughed as we wiped down our grocery cart and swept through the automatic doors. Our smiles turned to gasps when we turned the corner into the produce department. The giant wooden display bins were bare of nearly all the fresh fruit and vegetables.

Heidi headed to household while I turned to the bakery. A few loaves of warm bread were on a metal rack, along with some soda bread and Irish butter. The meat cases were practically empty, there was very little milk and no eggs, and the toilet paper was gone. Meanwhile the line to checkout stretched to the back of the store. Over the store's audio system Crowded House sang Hey la, hey la, don't dream it's over as we pushed our cart down aisle after empty aisle.

So this is what dystopia is like.

Dispatches from Home

Day 1 of distance learning for our students is, pardon the pun, in the books. Before school was canceled, my students were participating in a month long Slice of Life challenge which requires them to post a daily anecdote or other reflection on a personal experience, and so my plan was for them to continue that while we are away. I thought it would be a good way for us to stay connected as a learning community, as well as a chance for kids to put their thoughts and feelings into writing during this unprecedented time. And they sure have taken advantage of that opportunity!

On Saturday and Sunday, some of those who wrote complained of how bored they already were and wondered how they would possibly make it through a "30 day weekend," while others expressed annoyance that they would have to do school work over their "break". Today, though, the first week away from school commenced with several students reporting on the routines that their parents were establishing for them at home:

So my mom has made this kind of school with this whole schedule including 2 PE periods, a total of three hours of class work, half an hour of chores, and an hour of family time. So basically I was woken up at 7:30, I took a shower, got dressed and had breakfast, and then from 8:00 to 9:30 is class work time. After this I have an hour of first PE and then a snack break. So this is going to be an exhausting couple of days until I get used to this. And also I have to write a five page essay for my dad. 

Ugh today my mom is forcing me to make today a normal school day! And I hate the idea but my mom still wants me to do because she’s the boss of me

So I think that my parents are going crazy over this whole not going to school and everything is canceled thing. Especially my mom. Since dance was canceled she is making me do conditioning classes and online dance classes. Also, she is giving me so many chores. I have to fold the laundry and water the grass. She says that watering the grass is good for me to get some time outside, but I can go outside on my own without watering the grass. So, I think she is just using me for manual labor. Plus, I have to lookup and tell her about the census. And not just what it is but how long we have had it, who made it, etc. It’s kind of overwhelming. Now, I have to go to water the grass for my “outside time” and if I don’t I will probably get yelled at so bye! 

So today my dad wants to make today like a school day but i keep telling him that we have things on canvas and we also got packets. But then he said that instead of him being teaching math and stuff like that he’s going to teach PE fun.
So in "PE" today were going to be learning core exercises that going to be interesting. Oh and my mom she is on me like a tick to get my work done. And my brother he is going to get so stressed out i already know. So in conclusion my day and most days for about a month are going to be crazy. 

Hi guys, I’m so exhausted from my workout today. My mom makes me do a 30 minute work out which is super tiring. I had to do 50 push-ups and 50 curl ups. And 10 or something pull-ups. I hate having no school. There’s nothing to do but there’s lots to do. It’s weird. 

Last night my mom went over our schedule for the next day. She said school wouldn’t be any different than home. “Are you sure about that mom?!

Nice work, parents! Looking forward to Day 2!

Looking Backward

I spent a part of my day today working on the family tree my mother started on Ancestry.com. For those of you who are not familiar, the site adds little green leaves next to the name of family members to show that there is a hint, some as yet unlinked source that may provide information about that person. For me, these hints can be rabbit holes leading to facsimiles of hand-written census rolls, marriage or death certificates, or actual photos of gravesites and memorials. (Today I even found yearbook pictures of my sister and sister-in-law!)

I was lost in the past for at least 2 hours, exploring the lives of sailors, shoemakers, and inn keepers I never knew, but the fact that they were people that people I loved loved made everything seem quite relevant. And in these uncertain times, knowing how it all turned out was a comfort in itself.

Seize the Day

As long as you can stay six feet apart, outdoor activities are allowed and even encouraged when you are practicing social distancing. With that in mind, we met several neighbors and their dogs this afternoon to walk the section of the Potomac River Heritage Trail that runs through River Bend Regional Park.

Lots of folks must have had the same idea, because every park on the way up there, Scott's Run, Difficult Run, and Great Falls NP, was packed with lines of cars waiting to get into their parking lots. The wait to get into River Bend was only about 10 minutes, but the place was more crowded than I have ever seen it.

As the six of us and our six dogs hit the trail, the throng thinned out, all of us spreading ourselves over 400 acres and more than 10 miles of trails. What a glorious afternoon! The bluebells were about to burst into bloom, tight blue blossoms topped luminous spring green foliage that practically glowed in the March sunshine. A bald eagle posed on a bare branch beside its nest just on the other side of the river. Spring peepers raised a froggy fracas at the pond, and we even passed two people hiking with their cats. Yep! Their cats.

It was just the kind of day that reminds you to embrace this wild world and hold on for as long as you can.

New Frontiers

What do you say to students and colleagues when you know that none of you will be back at school for at least a month? I heard all sorts of variations this afternoon.

Good bye!
See ya when I see ya.
Have a good one.
Enjoy your time at home.
Do your work.
Get plenty of sleep.
Take care.
Stay healthy!
Ciao!
Read!
Stay in touch.

But the one that seemed the most fitting?

Good luck.

Never Before

Today we told our students what we expected should schools close. We're lucky that they have all been issued personal devices, and we have been given time to plan for tele-learning opportunities.

As for me, my students are deep into the 100 Day writing Challenge, and my main expectation is that they will continue to write and share their work daily on the discussion board of our online learning platform. "It will be nice to hear from you every day!" I said, "and it's kind of lucky we can all stay connected like that."

Kids were generally positive about the plan, but today the mood had shifted a bit. It seemed like the gravity of the whole situation finally hit them. Gone was most of the gleeful excitement that surrounds unexpected school cancellations, replaced by some genuine anxiety and overall uncertainty. Of course they look to us for reassurance. They've only been on the planet for 12 years or so, and everything is still new.

"You've been teaching here a long time, right?" one boy asked me this morning.

"Yep," I nodded, "27 years."

"How many times has school been canceled for a disease?" he asked.

No Looking Back

Like my friend Mary at Scattered Thoughts did yesterday, I stopped by the grocery on my way home today. In general, I feel we are well-provisioned to stay at home for a while if need be, but it never hurts to stock the pantry a little bit more. At 4:30 in the afternoon, it was rather quiet, and aside from the sanitizers, most everything else was on the shelves or being refilled as I shopped.

The big news for us was running into a good friend who is also a teacher, buying lobster dinners and steak, seeing a current student and his mom, shopping for cereal and milk, and then being stopped by a tall young man in his mid-20s.

"TJ?" he asked, using the nickname of our school.

I looked closely at him, and somehow the last 13 years faded from his adult face so that for a minute I could see the boy he was in 2006-7. "Philip?" I said, and he smiled wide.

"I can't believe you remember me!" he said, but then cast his eyes down. "Well, I guess I can," and I knew he was thinking of some of the trouble he had gotten into in middle school.

"What are you doing now?" I asked, changing the subject.

He told me he had been in the army and was now training to be a firefighter. I thanked him for his service, and he filled me in on some of the guys he kept in touch with.

"You should come by school one day to see if it's changed," I invited him.

"No way!" he said.

"You know you're welcome anytime!" I laughed. "If you change your mind... or the place catches on fire."

I Didn't Even Know He Was Sick

The whole sixth grade went on a field trip to George Washington's Mount Vernon today. It's an excellent field trip that for us consists mostly of a self-guided tour of the estate. As such, small groups of students tour the mansion and then roam the lawn and ramble the trails down to the wharf, sixteen-sided barn, gardens, and out buildings, ending up in the education center, which has lots of interesting interactive exhibits.

It's only about a half hour from our school, and some kids have been there before, but others haven't. I tell the former group that I have been there at least 25 times, and every time I learn something new and really cool. Today it was the demonstration on colonial cooking. Who knew that wealthy early Americans refused to eat yellow cornmeal? White? Sure, but yellow corn was animal feed to them. Ptooey!

In that way, Mount Vernon is always a fun and novel experience to me, but maybe not quite as new as it is to some of the kids. "I can't believe George Washington died!" one little girl told me today. "It's just so sad."

Maybe Not

Our students are writing children's stories as the summative task for the fiction unit. After giving them the tools and knowledge to analyze plot, setting, and character, we have them create their own character and give him or her a problem to solve. They might also invent an antagonist or a sidekick to hinder or help the hero.

In order to have a solid start, there is a character questionnaire based on one that Nancie Atwell uses in her writers workshop, and today was the day when students started to flesh out their protagonists.

"Can I have my character be on one of the planes from 9/11?" a young writer asked me.

I frowned. "It's supposed to be a children's story," I reminded him.

"It's history," he replied. "Kids need to know history."

I looked at him doubtfully.

"It will definitely be a children's story," he assured me.

I raised my eyebrows quizzically.

"I'm going to make it rhyme!" he promised.

Maintaining the Status Quo

I think DST has finally won. Despite my past annual rants, I don't really miss my hour at all, and I am rather resigned to dragging around for a few days before I get used to the...

Wait a minute!

get used

to the

obnoxious,
ridiculous,
pointless,
no good

time change, which only burdens those of us who are forced to rise early, and only benefits those people who have the luxury of sleeping late by providing extra daylight when their work day is over?

Never!

If they got up with us, they would have plenty of light at the end of the day!

Cures for the Cold

There was a chill in my bones that no number of steaming mugs could banish this morning. At 9 AM I blew into my hands, stamped my slippers, and still shivered in my layers.  I figured I had a choice: I could warm up through activity, or I could build a fire and pull up a fuzzy blanket. Outside my windows the sky was blue and the sun was bright, but the bend of the bare branches told another tale, one of biting breezes from the north.

Once a cheerful little blaze was burning in the fireplace, I stepped out to the wood rack to stock up on firewood before I got under that blanket. We were a bit low on small logs, so I began to split wood. As I swung the sledge, I remembered what my friend Rob used to tell me in college. Some people build small fires to stay warm. Other people build big fires and stay warm by chopping wood. I laughed, because I did feel warmer, especially out in that blue sky and sunshine.

Back inside, the cats and I enjoyed that fire for an hour or so, and then I took the dog and went hiking.

In Formation

I heard the clattering honks before I saw them. It was impossible to ignore the raucous spectacle, and so I stopped to appreciate the ragged vee of fifty or so geese flying over my head this morning. As they flew, three or four of them detached from the rear at the same time the others slowed the pace to first swallow and then follow the new leaders. In the brief time they were in my line of sight this exchange happened twice.

Flying seems like hard work; how could it be otherwise?

I wondered why human beings don't use such a method more often. We are so focused on specialization that leadership has become a thing of its own, rather than a shared responsibility for the good of the group. And instead of being fluid, our hierarchies are often so rigid.

Soon enough, the geese were gone, efficiently winging their way to their common destination, and I returned my attention to earth.

Mirror Mirror

I pulled out one of the workhorses of my kitchen tonight. A high-end, 12-inch stainless steel sautoir pan, I use it for everything from searing to sauteeing to braising. I can even whip up a pretty nice stew for two in there, with a little leftover to pack for lunch. Tonight I was making winter succotash, a ghost of its full-flavored summer self, but with frozen vegetables, still a satisfying side dish at any time of the year.

As I sauteed the onions, I observed a sticky spot, where the onions were browner, near the edge by the handle. It was easy enough to deglaze, but it was a flaw in the pan I'd never noticed before. I might need a new one of these, I thought, and then laughed, because that was silly. I can save myself a couple hundred bucks and scrape that spot whenever I need to.

As it happens, just this weekend my brother and I were watching old videos we had found when we cleaned out my mom's condo. The first was Christmas '96, and although it rightfully focused on my young nephews, the rest of us made cameos. I especially scored screen time because I was holding 18-month-old Treat, and though the actual unwrapping has been lost to posterity, he and I do spend quite a bit of time admiring our reflections in the brand new finish of that very sautoir.

Treat was an adorable child who has grown into a handsome man. The skillet and I? Have seen better days!

Willing Participants

The students in my morning intervention period are there to write: they have 30 minutes to get their daily independent writing done, and that is the clear expectation. It is true that I make it as pleasant as possible for them, creating a little writing cafe atmosphere with music and snacks, but it is also true that they are 12 years old and we start at 8 am. Add to that that they were chosen because of their general reluctance to put words on a page, and there is the occasional clash of wills-- mine and theirs.

At those moments, when a hood goes up or a head droops down or an iPad is clearly tuned to an unauthorized site, I call the unwriter over to my desk.

"We're here to write," I whisper quietly, keeping my voice neutral, waiting for the nod of acknowledgement.

"But..." I shrug, "if you're not interested in that, I can probably find you another intervention class," I add kindly, waiting for the widening of eyes.

"Should I do that?" I finish helpfully, raising my eyebrows in rapt attention.

Bless their hearts! They always say no, and then sit down to write. It helps if they feel they are with me by choice.

Plus, the snacks!