We're Going to Need a Bigger Toothbrush

I went to the dentist today for the first time since October 2019. My regular appointment was scheduled for just a few weeks after everything shut down last spring for the pandemic, and well, time slips, even more so these days. But having had my first dose of the vaccine, I called to schedule an appointment last week, expecting it to take some time for them to fit me in. But as luck would have it, there was a cancellation and so my teeth are sparkling and clean.

"Have there been any changes?" the hygienist asked.

"I think I might have a little more sensitivity to hot and cold," I told her.

"That is a classic symptom of clenching," she shook her head. "Have you been doing that?"

"Well, yeah," I answered. "These are kind of stressful times!" 

She laughed in agreement and continued her examination. "Go ahead and bite down for me," she directed, moving her fingers to my jawline. Her eyes widened. "Wow!" she said. "Those muscles are like little rocks. You really have been clenching!"

Oh Ho the Radio

Often when we're traveling by car I like to scan through the radio stations as we go, hoping to hear something new or something I haven't heard in a while, or even better, discover a station with a format and playlist that is surprising and satisfying and so pleasurably passes the time. As music, like so much other media, becomes more and more solipsistic, such stations are more and more rare. Sometimes, I worry about the future of radio. 

But today, as we were whizzing around the Richmond Bypass on our way home from the beach our scanning landed loud and clear on Bing Crosby singing White Christmas. "What the heck!" I said to Heidi, and peered at the display screen: Radio SNTA.  The next cut was a hilarious mash-up version of The Twelve Days of Christmas by Straight No Chaser, and then the DJ, Santa himself, broke in to explain that he wasn't ready to head back to the North Pole quite yet, and so Richmond got to enjoy some holiday spirit a bit longer than usual. 

Truth be told, I was hooked (and Heidi is very tolerant), so we sang along with an interesting and charming assortment of holiday songs until we were halfway to Fredericksburg, where the station faded into static and Christmas was past once more.

Family Ties

Not long ago a guy we have known all his life posted a birthday message. Happy 50th to my big sister! it read. The joke was that she is his little sister and she is still several years away from the half century mark. 

Even so, many people echoed his regards, prompting his sister to finally reply in exasperation, I am the little sister! 

We laughed about that today when we visited with those two and their mom. We were there to offer our sympathy and pay our respects to their dad who passed away a few days ago. "What gets me," the sister said, "is that some of the people who replied went to high school with me! Did they think I flunked five grades?"

Later on in the conversation we spoke warmly of the closeness our families have enjoyed for so long;  their parents and ours were dear friends since we were children. "We've known you guys for over 50 years," I said to their mom.

"I. am. not. 50!" her daughter answered.

"True," I agreed, "but we've kind of known the idea of you for 50 years." I shrugged.

Because that's how family works.

Tumble Dry

We always say, "A rainy day at the beach is still a day a the beach," but that attitude was definitely put the to the test today. 37 degrees, with driving rain and wind speed of up to 20 mph made even a short little walk on the beach a stinging trial of fortitude. Amid the blowing foam and flotsam were four sets of wings on the sand literally torn from the backs of the birds they once thrust into flight.

Back at our little bayside cottage we tossed our sopping clothes and even our coats in the dryer before heading out on our next adventure. When the timer buzzed and I opened the metal latch to fetch Heidi's jacket, the metallic smell of static and hot nylon nudged my nose with nostalgia. The heft and warmth of the freshly tumbled coat transported me back fifty years to the snow days of my childhood.  

When the cold and wet got the best of us and pink-cheeked we returned to the house, my mom gathered our stripped snow clothes and popped them in the dryer while we sipped steaming mugs of spiced tea and orange juice served with buttered slices of freshly baked Sally Lunn. And when we were ready to bundle up and go back out to play, Mom held our jackets right from the dryer and we slid our arms into them like receiving a warm hug, and then, so fortified, we readily faced the elements without hesitation.

So Long, Gar

hamburger, hamburger

all red hot

with an onion in the middle

and a pickle on top

 

Zhāo Cái Jìn Bǎo

Just a little while ago, our 8-year-old neighbor Sofia rang the door bell. Resplendent in red, she wished us a Happy Lunar New Year and offered us some homemade dumplings, which we were thrilled to accept.

"How many would you like?" she asked. "They are very lucky."

"Would 2 each be too many?" we asked.

She paused and gulped. "How about three each?" she offered. "Four is a bad luck number! It's like death!"

We were all too happy to adjust our order, plus? What a great reason to eat even more dumplings!

Expecting

I was just reading the meeting minutes, a friend and colleague texted this afternoon, I see you took your new line about expectations out for a walk.

I couldn't resist! I texted back.

And I couldn't, because sometimes those moments of clarity just have to be shared. As I was explaining the new camera-on policy to my class this morning, one of the students unmuted and asked (off camera), "Are you going to enforce that?"

It was his use of the word "enforce" that made me pause and consider the situation. 

"Well," I answered slowly, "if it was a requirement? I would enforce it. But this is an expectation-- it's your job to live up to it; as a member of our community, you have to enforce it for yourself."

There was silence, and I congratulated myself for finally finding a way to explain what "expectations" mean.

My proud moment was quickly cut short. "What if we don't?" he asked.

"Then your community will be verrrrry disappointed," I answered, leaning into the camera and wiping an imaginary tear.

All of the People None of the Time

"The superintendent is going to announce the return-to-school dates today," I told my students this morning, "so I'll finally get to meet some of you guys in person." 

Our system is opting for a hybrid model with concurrent instruction, so at any given time, 2/3 - 3/4 of the students will still be learning from home while their classmates attend school for 2 days a week. It's going to be a lot to juggle, and there will quite likely be something for everybody to dislike. 

"What about our break?" asked one student today. "How will that work when we're in school? Will we just be allowed to walk around the halls?"

"Your break?" I asked in return.

"Yeah, when we work asynchronously," she clarified.

"Um," I shook my head. "We're not going have those."

"I'm glad I'm staying home!" one of her classmates chimed in.

Shutter Lag

After months of not requiring students to turn their cameras on, last week we received guidance on the latest policy, which is that students are expected and encouraged to turn their cameras on, but not required. Such a shift, midyear, promises to be a hard transition to manage. Even in the early days of distance learning only a small number of middle schoolers chose to turn their cameras on, and that number has definitely dwindled as the days have passed. 

To be honest, as much as I want to see some faces, my some of the sights I've already seen have been far from camera ready. This new policy will require some direct instruction and reminders about expected on screen etiquette, which may be a bit of a hard sell to those students who never wanted their cameras on to begin with. 

Will being onscreen increase engagement? From a certain segment of our learners, probably. I know myself some of the shenanigans and distractions I engage in during this meeting or that, but when my camera's on, I am the very model of attentiveness (if you call staring at my own thumbnail image attentive). Still, a solid majority of my students answer me when I call on them, and I know they are paying attention, even if they are hunkered down on the bottom bunk with hanging sheets and blankets creating a little learning cocoon which may not transfer to the image they want to project to their peers.

Practically speaking, it takes a lot of bandwidth to have your camera on and access the learning management system and whatever other apps might be required, especially if you are using your phone as a hot spot. And for those with whom I would like to check in with more directly, there are always breakout rooms; I can pop a kid in there, have a heart to heart, all the while monitoring the main class on my iPad. In that one-on-one space I often ask for the camera to be turned on, so that our connection is more than just vocal.

For my convenience and ease as a teacher, it would be great to see that expanded Brady Bunch view of every child smiling and looking right at me as I impart all my wisdom, but there is no studio audience and we only have one take to get it right. And so I guess what I'm saying is that I have changed my mind about the kids and the camera-- 

just in time to be on the wrong side of the policy.

Guru

Every weekday morning for the past five weeks I have risen in the dark and crept silently downstairs to join a live stream Kundalini Yoga class. I always make sure to pull the door behind me so that my chanting will not disturb Heidi. The cats are curious about the computer and cushion and candle; they often prowl around as I mindfully breathe and twist, but Lucy is always still upstairs snoozing with Heidi.

But this afternoon when I joined a different live session online, Lucy was awake and ready to join my practice. My prana was her panting; we executed cat-cow shoulder to shoulder, and savasana with dog resting on leg was even more relaxing than usual. 

Oh we didn't actually get to downward dog, but no worries: Lucy is always in the present moment, and it didn't bother her at all.

Sat nam.

The Now

This moment I am in my chair looking at the fire, dinner in the oven, a glass of beer on the table beside me. Today I practiced yoga, baked bread, read a book, coached Annabelle on ratios, and sketched Bulbasaur for a rock I've been requested to paint. All good.

These days at home have been comfortable and restorative in so many ways, but they sure make it hard to find anything new to write about. 

Royal Pain

Does the queen like The Crown? I googled last evening. Admittedly late to the tea party, we have been watching the popular Netflix series about the English royals for a couple of weeks now, and the first season Queen Elizabeth is so smart and likable and sympathetic that I couldn't imagine the real queen could object. I also wondered what it might be like for a person in their 90s to see the life they led when 20-something recreated in such detail.

My research indicated that the queen did indeed like season one quite a bit, although Prince Phillip would have none of it. Later episodes were not quite so appealing to Elizabeth, and word has it that this past season, the one about Charles and Diana is scorned by the whole family, except, of course, Camilla.

Gentle Reminders

Seasoned teachers know that it frequently happens that a new student will come mid-year and disrupt the whole class dynamic you've been patiently nurturing since September. It makes sense when you think about it-- that kid doesn't have any allegiance to you, and they really want to connect with their peers. Taking on the teacher in even the smallest way is an effective technique to make an impression on everyone. 

So I shouldn't have been surprised at all when, even though we are still virtual, both of the girls who recently joined one of my classes gave me a little bit of a challenge yesterday. 

As I've mentioned before, every class starts with a question of the day, and students are expected to post their answer in the chat. I read their replies out loud and usually engage each student in a very brief conversation which is meant to be a way to build our personal connection before we dive into the lesson. 

The question yesterday, What is an important lesson you have learned in your life? was crafted to serve the dual purpose of conversation and springboard into writing a fiction piece where the main character learns something important. As I read through the replies, I praised the ideas and encouraged the students who hadn't answered yet to do so. 

idk wrote one of the new kids. 

I reminded the class that there were no wrong answers, that everyone has learned lots of lessons, that no example was too small. 

i can't think of anything she posted. 

"No problem," I said. "You can stay on the call once everybody gets started and I'll help you." 

The chat dinged immediately. i thought of something, she wrote. 

"Great!" I replied. "Go ahead and put it in the chat."

its okay not to know something, she typed.

Ouch!

Later as I was giving directions, the other new student was busy in the chat posting greetings to her classmates. I was still explaining when she started writing questions. What do we do? Where do we go? and when I didn't answer immediately, she followed up with a hellooooo?????

I let it slide and explained what she needed to know. Later on, she ran into another problem and again began peppering the chat with questions, finally ending in HELLOOOOZZ???!!!

I replied to her in the chat. The helloooo thing is a bit disrespectful.

Sorry she responded. I needed to know if my messages were getting through!

You can always unmute and say "Excuse me" I reminded her.

Watchful

The sun was an orange smudge blazed low in the eastern sky this morning when I took Lucy for her first out. The air itself seemed to chirrup and trill, and swags of robins festooned the bare branches of every tree, while hundreds more hopped about on the candied snow. 

So many birds! 

They seemed to know they outnumbered us: they barely made way as we walked into the round of them, and all the while they piped a tiny tune. And then in a whoosh and a sharp-winged cloud of rust and gray, they disappeared. 

So strange!

Continuing on I spotted a hawk hunched on the lowest limbs of a locust, its gaze turned intently eastward, where late the robins had been, and I understood.

Our Appointed Rounds

"Well, there goes snow days," we all joked back in August and September when distance teaching was new. And today, as we entered the third semester of doing our jobs remotely, that vaticination came to pass. Fat flakes drifted lazily through the gray day and all along, teachers taught, and students presumably learned. 

It helped that this was actually the 3rd day of winter weather in a row; many of us had already had plenty of time to play outside. To be honest, I didn't mind getting to work this morning: not having to dress for the cold or drive on icy roads made sitting down in my comfortable chair in the warm dining almost appealing. 

But it turns out you really can't please everyone-- a few parents in our district were soon voicing their regret that the kids were missing out on that time-honored tradition of the snow day. 

No Tomorrow

"Can you believe that Tuesday is Groundhog Day?" I asked my sister last night on Zoom.

"Every day is Groundhog Day, man!" she scoffed, and we both sighed because we knew how right she was.

Lately, the weekends have been tougher than the work week for me: more often than not I find myself sitting in my chair trying to think of something fun and engaging to do that I haven't already done 25 times since we've been staying at home. 

This evening I heard a piece on the radio about what we lose when we lose acquaintances, people who aren't close enough to for us to seek out, yet whose company we enjoyed all the same. The loss of those chance encounters with a colleague in another department at a meeting, or someone at the gym, or a favorite waiter or bartender, or another fan in the bleachers at a school sporting event is also a lost opportunity for serendipity and the joy it brings. 

Yesterday a couple of our neighbors texted to see if we had any interest in coming out to play in the snow. As it happened? We had about 25 minutes before we were scheduled for that Zoom call. So we pulled on some layers, leashed up Lucy and headed out to the big hill in our complex. There 8-year-old Elijah and I climbed to the top and slid down on our bottoms at least 10 times; no sled needed to enjoy the snow slide created by the icy conditions.

It was completely unplanned and by far the most fun I have had in weeks, if not months.

There's a Mouse in the House (Finis)

 So the cats remained non-committal about the whole mouse-removal part of their job description and meanwhile I kept seeing the little critter scurry over and behind the TV. "What are we going to do?" demanded Heidi, and in response I shook my head.

"It'll come to me," I said.

Heidi knelt on the floor with a flashlight. "I see it!" she reported. It was sitting on the cables and wires in the 2 inch hole in the back of the TV stand. "Oop! There it goes!" 

The mouse had retreated through another cable pass-through into one side of the stand with a closed cabinet. I grabbed some packing tape and sealed the hole, trapping it behind the door. As the mouse explored its new situation, its increasingly panicky jumps and scampers finally attracted the attention of the cats, who were riveted to the TV stand for the rest of the night.

"At least we know where it is," I said, "and it can't get out of there. We have some time to figure it out."

An hour or so later, the solution finally came to me. "I know what to do!" I told Heidi. "We can take all the stuff off and out of the cabinet, drag it outside, and open the door. Then it's up the mouse,"

Satisfied that we had a plan, I slept soundly last night and woke this morning with determination. It would be good to organize all the devices and wires and what-not, and it would be great to be rid of the mouse. I set to work unplugging cables and dusting shelves and moving the turntable, the DVD/VHS player, the DVR, the game system, and the pair of streaming cubes. At last the cabinet was empty except for the side that held the mouse. 

Heidi and I lifted and dragged the awkward triangular-shaped piece of furniture up over the step to the dining room and then through the entryway to the front door. Snow was falling and a frigid wind blew. I convinced myself that instinct would lead the mouse to find shelter far away from this house where it was threatened and trapped.

At last we were on the front stoop and Heidi untaped the door and opened it. Her eyes widened. "It's right there!" she said and started banging on the cabinet to get it to leave. Something small and gray landed at my feet. It was a dead mouse.

"Seriously? After all that?" Heidi said. "I guess we must have scared it to death.

There's a Mouse in the House (Part 1)

 Our cat, Tibby, leapt to the top of the TV stand and pounced over to the mantle. "Don't you do it!" I warned her, for she has a history of jumping to places she shouldn't be and knocking stuff around. But there was something in her alert posture and intent gaze that suggested she had more in her sights than mayhem. Did I bring a bug in with the firewood? I guessed, and leaned over to peer at the underside of the mantle. Seeing nothing at first, my attention was drawn to a flick of a movement to my right. Something long and thin hung from the wrought iron bracket supporting the mantle. Is it a lizard? I thought, but then I saw the creature clearly-- it was a fat little field mouse! When it was clear that I saw it, the mouse dove back behind the TV, and that is where it still is. We have been telling both Tibby and Milo that this is the moment they were born for! But so far? They seem unconvinced.

Somewhere Out There

It was my friend Mary's idea to have our students create micro video presentations to celebrate the end of the essay unit. Using a popular education platform, the kids were tasked with making videos between 60 and 90 seconds showcasing their writing and ideas. Sharing their video with the group was optional, but showing their faces on it was not.

Until I hit play on the first video, I don't think I realized how much I longed to see these kids with whom I have worked so closely and yet never met in person. But after five months of faceless interaction, watching their recordings and hearing those familiar voices come from real people in real places? 

Well, it kind of choked me up a bit. 

Not Quite Camera Ready

When I checked my camera image this morning before my first class of the day, I thought I looked a bit rough. My a.m. routine has been rearranged to make time for a live yoga and meditation class, and so I have been showering at night. All well and good, but sometimes? Well, let's just say my hair doesn't always look as peaceful as I may feel after chanting. 

The kids won't care, I shrugged as I brushed my bangs back and hit admit all on the call. Imagine my surprise when the assistant principal appeared on the screen. As my evaluator, she was there to observe the class. 

Fortunately? Her focus was on my teaching and not my hair, and we spent an enjoyable 10 minutes going through the chat snap together with the kids.

Comment Cards

As part of the second quarter reflection I asked the kids in my English class the following: Tell me something about your learning style. How does our class fit you? How could our class be better for you?

As always, the insights of the students are telling. Notably, they seem generally satisfied, despite the challenges of distance learning. My colleagues and I are working hard to provide a productive learning environment, and for the most part, it seems to be working for most of the kids. 

Here's what they have to say so far:

I honestly love this class. It has a supportive writing community. I love how we get to know each other. I feel like I fit in here and nothing could make the class better.

This class fits well. The chat snaps are my favorite. But it would be better if we learned to write stories.

I learn by listening. This class fits me.

Well, I am an in person learner. I lose focus sometimes in my home because my environment distracts me.

One thing that helps me learn is music, and I work efficiently by myself. Our class fits me perfectly, I feel comfortable and happy.

My learning style is just adapting to how the teacher teaches me. I think this class fits me because I love writing.

My learning style is visual. Class would be better for me if there were more visuals, like videos.

I like this class, because my teacher gives me a lot of time and we get to pick what we want to write.

This class kind of fits my learning style, although I would like to not use breakout rooms.

Give us more time to work.

Our class is good for me because we go at the right class. It would be better if it were not virtual.

My learning style is kind of weird. I lose focus easily, but this class fits me well. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I like to work in different ways. Sometimes I like groups and sometimes not. In this class I feel like I can work alone, because I can ask a lot of questions when I need to.

I learn better when there is an example. It helps me a lot. This class would be better if we had a fun activity at the end.

I'm a good listener. This class is good.

I like our class. It's calm and fun to work in.

This class is very fun and easy, considering how much I like to write.

My learning style is to just look and listen and write stuff down. This class fits me because I'm having fun learning. The people here are nice, and there's a good balance between fun and learning.

My learning style is I just listen and if I have a question I ask it. I think how you're teaching the class is fine.

This class is calm, but at the same time noisy. I love the chat snap, it gets us to communicate together, and reply at times.

I like talking a lot. Maybe we could have more group activities.

This class stresses me out.

I think our class is fun to come to because I like writing.

I like to work on paper, and this class fits me well like that. We also practice certain stuff I need to learn.

I'm more of a visual learner. I sometimes can't understand things if I don't see an example.

I usually like to do stuff on my own. I don't like to be slowed down. This class works like that.

I am a visual learner and you provide a lot of images to help with work.

First of all I would like this class to be a little easier, please!

I work best alone.

This class helps me by giving me things to look at instead of just instructions, since it makes it a bit easier to come up with ideas.

My learning style is solo. I like working alone or 1:1 with a teacher. This class fits me because I always have that option.

I enjoy working alone, but I don't mind groups. Screenshots help me take notes.

I learn with pictures. This class fits me good.

I prefer talking to writing.

I usually record the lesson so I can take good notes later.

This is my favorite class because I love writing and I want to become an author someday. 

Would Eat Again

You gotta cook what you have, so on the menu this evening?

Bratwurst, sauerkraut, cabbage, onions, and cheese on sourdough pastry.

It was a little iffy, but the fresh oregano really pulled it all together.

And the beer didn't hurt either!

Not Optional

"May I have your ID?" the masked young woman at the health department asked. I was at one of the many many checkpoints on my way to receiving a COVID vaccine, and I was prepared, I handed her my drivers license without hesitation. "Oh!" she said. "Hello!"

I cocked my head. She looked familiar, but the mask--

"I'm Molly," she told me. "I took your class a long time ago."

I knew who she was then, and I giggled at her choice of verbs. "Sixth graders don't usually "take" English, though, do they?" I teased her. "It's more like they're forced!"

"Right," she shrugged, "but I liked it!"

Germination

At this time of year our mailbox fills up with seed catalogs and visions of warmer weather and garden bounty float through our fireside dreams. I spent some time yesterday afternoon circling seed descriptions and dog-earring their pages to organize my orders, but when I went online, company after company had a disclaimer about how delayed shipping would be on account of how high the demand for their products are this year. It seems that early seed starting is yet another pandemic-driven craze. I can hardly get upset about the appreciation our culture is recently showing for slowing down and doing things the old-fashioned way; I just hope my seeds get here in time!

Winter Weekends

The sun was shining but the day was frigid, and so I built a fire a little past noon and it's been crackling cheerfully ever since. I couldn't allow myself to sit around all day, though, and so a little yoga here, a little dance workout there, some fireplace popcorn, and even a toasted marshmallow on chocolate drizzled pretzel thins punctuated those stretches of lounging by the fire. And now that darkness has fallen and Saturday is well on its way to Sunday, I'm feeling pretty content about the way I spent my day.

Dr. B.

I received an email invitation to join Jill Biden in a virtual celebration of teachers yesterday. Curiosity and residual Inauguration warm fuzziness spurred me to join, and so at 6PM I followed the link, prepared to hear our newly minted first lady and the presidents of the NEA and AFT deliver some rah rah remarks. But my cynicism, forged through years of listening to non-educators in such positions of influence and authority oscillate between patronizing and dismissive and hostile, faded slightly with the strong and authentic voices of these three women. And when Jill Biden issued her closing call to arms declaring, "Educators this is our moment! Because we know how to turn chaos into something beautiful. We do it every day in our classrooms." I knew I was listening to a real teacher.

Boom Boom Boom

As the Inauguration celebration on TV was nearing its end, I went upstairs to see if I could make out the two columns of light being projected from the National Mall. 

When I stepped out onto my balcony, what I saw instead was a blaze of sparks and the vibrant glare of rockets and bright streamers bursting in the sky! The broadcast must have been a few minutes delayed, because there were no such pyrotechnics behind Katy Perry when I left the couch. 

I opened the door to call down to Heidi just as she shouted up to me: "They have fireworks!" And so enthralled we watched them together as they lit up the sky, even brighter than the moon, moon, moon.

Buh Bye

I confess that I stepped out on my balcony, stood on tiptoe, and craned to catch a glimpse of Marine One as it departed the White House this morning around 8:20. It would not have been impossible-- the tip of the Washington Monument is sometimes just within sight to the northeast, through the tall Virginia Pines and over the ridge-- but today as I stood under a pale blue sky in the thin January sunshine, I saw nothing but a few puffy clouds. 

He was gone, and I could barely contain my glee.

HOPE

Call me a wimp, but I have found the coarse and confrontational tone of our national politics unpleasant for the last, oh, four years or so. Think less of me if you must, but I much prefer dignity and inclusive rhetoric and symbolism to crass displays and hateful words. Perhaps I am naive to believe that such things matter, much less signal substance and change, but please! 

Let me enjoy it for a day.

Smaklig Måltid!

In an expansion of my sourdough repertoire, yesterday I baked a dense rye bread, similar to the Scandinavian staple that is often the base of those open-faced sandwiches so common to that region. It was a heavy dough, fortified with stout and laced with almonds, pumpkin seeds, and flax meal, that I turned into my pullman pan to rise. The recipe called for baking it for over 2 hours, but the direction that the internal temperature should reach 208 was helpful guidance. Once out of the pan, the block of bread was to be wrapped in a clean towel for at least 24 hours. This morning, it was at last ready to slice, and I was ready to top it. We've had butter, avocado, and smoked salmon, tuna and egg, poached shrimp with lobster mayo and dill-- all hearty and filling in an unmistakably Nordic way.

Not for Granted

This is the time of year when we are usually in our Oscar mode. With the holidays behind us and a long dreary winter ahead we turn our attention to the movies and eating out. We are typically joined in this diversion by my brother and sister-in-law and my two nephews, now adults in the mid 20s. We try to see as many of the movies that may nominated until the nominations, and then we double down to see all of the nominees. While we're at it, we plan meals for after the show at restaurants we've been wanting to try. It all crescendos with a weekend at the beach spent together to watch the Academy Award Ceremony.

That is so not happening this year. The six of us lamented the situation as we sat outside visiting around the fire pit this afternoon. "Maybe we could have raclette and do an outdoor show?" I suggested.

"I don't even know what's in contention," my brother said.

"Me neither!" I answered, "When do the nominations even come out?"

It turns out that the actual ceremony has been pushed all the way to late April, so the nominations aren't until March 15.

"By that time," I said, "maybe we can actually see some of the films at the movies! And possibly go out to eat."

"It might be too soon," my brother said, "but I hope not. You should have seen the rapture on your face when you were imagining it."

Grumpy Cat

Lucy hasn't been entirely herself lately, and we haven't been able to figure out why. 

Closer observation has revealed that our cat, Milo, formerly of placid and somewhat slow disposition, has come into his own as the only male and the house. Now, when he is displeased not only does he swat and charge our other cat, Tibby, but he also blocks Lucy from stairwells and doorways, swatting and charging at her as well. Although he is only a quarter of her weight, he does have claws, and Lucy seems to be taking his aggression pretty seriously. In fact, he recently growled at me because I was cleaning something from Tibby's fur and she was fussing. So, maybe I should start again...

Milo hasn't been entirely himself lately, and we haven't been able to figure out why. 

Holding Out for What?

"I want to believe," said the woman down the way from me in the hair salon, "that their hearts are in the right place, but..." She sighed and shook her tinfoil covered head.

She was talking about teachers. 

She was talking about me. 

In her estimation, "a few vocal ones are holding out." That was a problem because her house was too small. Even though she was a stay at home mom, she and her husband and child "were on top of each other all the time." And that was uncomfortable.

The stylist nodded, sympathetically and noted that she had been working in person for months.

"Right!" her client agreed. "It's their job!"

Balancing Act

There's not a lot about virtual teaching that beats in-person, but there are a few things. Today, as we near the end of our unit, students are predictably in one of three places on their summative assignment: behind, slightly behind or on track, and ahead. That hasn't changed at all.

In the classroom, I might group students according to their progress and move from table to table to assist and keep them on track. Any help or intervention I would be able to provide would be interspersed with classroom management, making sure that kids were doing as they should and neither distracting themselves nor the other students near them. 

Today? I popped the kids who were behind and ahead into breakout rooms, and kept the other students on the main call, which I monitored from my iPad. With the students who had a finished draft, I shared my screen and went through a slide show on revision that matched up with the checklist they would use independently. Meanwhile, the students who were behind shared their outlines with me, and I was able to interact with them both verbally and on the outline itself, making corrections or suggestions as they worked. In between, I checked in with the kids in the middle, answering questions and encouraging progress. 

Was every student focused and on task every minute? No. But their inattention didn't negatively impact the group dynamic, and by checking in with them frequently, I was able to help with their focus. At the end of the day, I felt like my three ring circus was ready for the road.

Just Ask

We recently updated our FireTV to a newer model with a few more features. Despite being aware of the privacy issues, I have found it fun and entertaining to command the device to turn on, turn off, turn up, and turn down the TV as well as to request specific programs.

This morning I was working with my students as they make the final push toward writing and revising their argument essays. "Alexa?" I asked a student in my assertive teacher voice, "Please share your outline with me."

Even as the human Alexa was complying with my request, a voice from the living room replied, "I'm sorry, I don't know how to do that." 

I laughed to myself as I was looking over Alexa's writing.

"Alexa!" I said. "This looks great! Nice work!"

"Thank you," my student and my FireTV replied in unison.

High Hopes

When I asked my students who their favorite super hero is for the chat snap this morning, I may have raised their hopes a little high. "Oh man!" one kid said as we were talking about their answers, "I can't wait to see what the lesson is!"

"Uhhhh," I hesitated, " I think you might be a little disappointed. Let me share my screen." 

The bright blue first slide of a presentation blinked across their iPads. From outline to essay: it read, How to write a flash draft. To my credit, I did use a fun font and add a cool lightning bolt graphic.

"Flash!" I said. "Get it you guys? He's a superhero!"

I'm sure I could hear the groaning even through their muted mics.

As If!

We were leaving the house to take a walk with friends this evening when I grabbed a tube of lip balm from a gift set we had recently received and liberally applied it to protect against the cold, dry air. On the way out of our complex we stopped at the home of some friends who recently got a puppy to drop off a few goodies and toys. 

Hearing the commotion caused by five women, three dogs, and a puppy, eight-year-old Elijah peeked out the door. "Hello!" he greeted us, and then raised his eyebrows at me. "Why are your lips white?"

I frowned and put my hand over my mouth. "I just put on some chapstick," I started. "Wait! Can you see it?"

"Yeah, it has zinc or something in it," Heidi said.

I rubbed my lips to get it off. "Thanks for telling me, Elijah," I huffed. "Since my friends didn't say anything!"

"We thought you knew!" someone said. "It has a cool, summer vibe-- very California!" she laughed.

Gesundheit

"You should put that on the clicker," Heidi said to our friend Sarah when her dog Beckett sneezed.

"I know!" Sarah answered, "It's one of the hardest things to teach a dog to do on command, because you have to catch them sneezing."

Just then Beckett sneezed again. Heidi whipped out her clicker and gave him a treat. When he sneezed the next time, Heidi clicked and treated him. 

"We could never teach Lucy that," I noted. "I've never even heard her sneeze."

Beckett sneezed again. Heidi clicked and treated him. Lucy was watching intently. She looked at him and looked at Heidi and sneezed!

"What?" I laughed.

Heidi clicked and treated her. 

Lucy sneezed again.

"Yay!" I cheered, but I honestly couldn't believe it. 

"She knows what the clicker is," Heidi explained, "and she wants the treats."

Since then? They have been working on the trick, and although it is still inconsistent, Lucy does, occasionally, sneeze on command.

Cottage Industry

"What are you doing?" Heidi asked as she walked into the kitchen this morning. 

I looked up from the crowded counters and stove top and took a breath. "Well, I spiraled the sweet potatoes and roasted them, then blanched the greens and chopped them. I also sliced the extra bread to freeze before it goes stale, but I toasted the heels and other small pieces to grind for breadcrumbs. And I melted some beeswax to season the canele´ molds so I can bake off the leftover batter. I think I'll put away the Christmas decorations next." I paused. "Oh, and here's your coffee and some avocado toast."

"Thanks, Babe," she said. "I'll do the dishes."

Tails or Heads?

I reported yesterday about asking a group sixth graders if they would choose heads or tails in a coin toss. The results from my first set of classes were 55% heads to 45% tails, which I found surprising because I expected closer to a 50-50 break, like the odds of a coin flip. What I also found interesting, if unexplainable, was the break down by gender: 75% of the boys chose heads and 67% of the girls chose tails.

Well, the results are in from my second group of kids. Today 57% of the students chose tails, leaving heads in the dust with just 43%. But the amazing statistic is that when both sets of data were added together? It ended up being the very 50-50 split I predicted! 

Today, only 39% of the boys chose heads, and the girls were split 50-50 heads and tails. BUT... the overall data showed that 61% of the boys chose heads and 61% of the girls chose tails! The symmetry of the numbers is a little astonishing, still mystifying, but also wonderful in its perfect balance.

Heads or Tails?

The chat snap today was In a coin toss, do you usually choose heads or tails? 

I was introducing counterclaims, and my segue way was Just as there are two sides to every coin, there are also two sides to every argument (see what I did there?), but the hook was to record each student's answer and then flip a coin at the end to see who "won". 

An inveterate tails-picker myself, I wondered if I was imagining it, but as I was marking the Hs and Ts next to the names on my roster, I noticed something odd. It seemed like most of the boys were choosing heads and most of the girls were choosing tails. As soon as I was done teaching for the day, I had to crunch some numbers. 

Turns out that 55% of the kids chose heads over tails, which surprised me, because I thought it would be closer to the 50-50 split that occurs when you actually toss a coin. Digging deeper into the data, I found that a full 75% of the boys chose heads, and 67% of the girls chose tails. I have no explanation for these anecdotal results, but I do have a chance to conduct the experiment again tomorrow with my B-day classes. 

Are you on the edge of your seat?

Nowtimes

As I cooked this evening, I listened the latest reports of the demonstration that had devolved into a mob and stormed the Capitol. The measured voices of the reporters and the emotional voices of those they interviewed on the scene were interrupted several times by the shrill alert of the emergency broadcast system. It was not a test; the governor had ordered a curfew for our county beginning at 6 PM. It would be a misdemeanor to leave my house until 6 tomorrow morning. 

Fortunately, I had no plans of doing so. It's my dad's birthday today, and even though he's been gone since 1987, we still honor him each year by preparing his favorite meal of chicken with white gravy and biscuits. This year I threw in an apple crisp galette, too, because I knew he would have liked it. It's a comforting menu, and I have confidence that even on this, his 86th birthday, he would have relished it. 

But what he would have thought of the rest of the world? 

I have no idea.

A Tragic Twelvetide Tale

It's always a little sad this time of year to see holiday trees stripped of their lights and ornaments and tossed out onto the curb. I get it that everyone has their own timeline for winding down the decorations, but even so? 

On this twelfth day of Christmas I do admit I gasped when I saw a lady, walking her schnauzer all decked out in his fancy sweater, let her dog take a leak on one of those discarded, curbside trees. 

Where were those drumming drummers when you need them?

Trim the Sails

Every year for the last 14 One Little Word has been the first assignment of the new year in my sixth grade English class. The premise is deceptively simple: find a single word that means something you want for the year ahead, post it to the discussion along with a brief explanation. 

I love this assignment because it offers a soft reopening to school after the holiday break, it is easy and engaging, and it also often results in some of the wisest and most honest writing my students have done so far in the school year. 

This time was no exception; one of the most popular words of the year was friendship along with several poignant explanations about how much the kids miss their friends and classmates. Other popular words were kindness, happiness, and joy. There were also several riffs on success and winning, and a few honest confessions that more responsibility was necessary along with some patience and change. 

In general, though, there was less variety than in past years, and much less creativity, too (although one student did choose creativity as her word.) I was a little disappointed by this latter development, I love it when kids choose crazy words that capture something special about them and what they hope for. 

When I mentioned the assignment to her, my sister shared with me an Instagram site belonging to artist, poet, and podcaster Morgan Harper Nichols with a hundred words on loop. The idea is to take a screenshot as they play, and that will give you a word to contemplate in the year ahead. The graphics and music are wonderful, and the words are inspired, too. 

My word was wind, defined as "the perceptible movement of air, especially in the form of a current of air blowing from a particular direction".

I think I'll keep it.

Meeting Adjourned

Nothing beats a pandemic like an hour and a half on FaceTime with your siblings!

As such, be it so resolved:

• Veterinarians may want to rethink their business model.
• Raccoons and storm drains are definitely a thing. 
• Any words of the year should be illustrated.
• We will find a vacation place for TWO weeks this summer.

A Shot in the Arm

The end of the winter holidays is always a little sad. Anticipation of celebration and time away from work fuels the days from early November until the last of December. And then? And then. 

Even so, we find our way forward: longer days and the promise of a new year glimmer on the path ahead illuminating the way through winter and into spring. At school, our classes become communities, and at home, movies and dinners and trips to the beach offer fun and distraction.

But this year leaving the holidays behind and heading back to the long days of online teaching weighs heavily and just putting one foot in front of the other feels so hard. And what is there to look forward to?  

All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go

The only thing that motivated me to get up and out on this cold, wet day was the promise of trying out the new rain gear I got for Christmas. I figured if I wanted to spend time outside every day, in this neck of the woods I would need to be prepare for rain. So I suited up to take the dog for a walk this evening-- slicker, boots, AND the new pants, all cinched and velcroed for maximum dryness. Heck, I even put a raincoat on Lucy. And when we stepped out into the drenching 38 degree rain, and the wind caught the waterproof nylon of my jacket, I was nothing but comfy cozy and ready to venture forth.

Lucy? Had other ideas. Once she had completed her short to do list, just a number one and a number two, rather than putting her tail up ready to prance through the foul weather, as I was, she strained on her leash and pulled in the direction of home. We didn't get too far before I gave in. Even dressed for the weather as I was, I could see the reason in her request.

The Beholder

Thursday is recycling day in our complex, and today, the first Thursday since Christmas was a big day on the curb. The rule is everything must be out no earlier than 6 and no later than 9 A.M. so when I took Lucy for her first out of the day, we walked by several brown bags filled with cans and bottles and many, many broken-down boxes. The one that caught my eye? Barbie's Dream Camper, tucked between an empty case of wine and a Chewy box. 

Fifty years ago Barbie's Country Camper, orange and yellow with a cool California vibe, was parked under our Christmas tree. In retrospect, I know it was meant to be my wow gift, everything any eight-year-old girl might ever dream of for the holiday, something so amazing I never knew I wanted and so never asked for. But I was not a Barbie kind of a little girl, and so I was a little underwhelmed. My friends thought it was amazing, though, and I understood how lucky I was to have received such a thing, bragged about it a little even. 

By where the box was placed, I knew exactly what little girl in our neighborhood got the camper under her tree this Christmas. She's a pistol of a 6-year-old kid, all go go go in her pink and purple sneakers and tutus. 

I wonder if she liked her camper.

Fulfilling the Promise of the Gifts

I got a few fun things for the holidays-- among them a hand-forged Japanese bread knife and some copper canelé molds. Just preparing to use those beautiful tools as they were meant to be has given shape to the last few days.

First, feeding the sourdough levain for the bread, coaxing it back to life after a week in the refrigerator, then weighing, mixing, turning, resting, raising, forming, fermenting, and baking the loaves with the anticipation of finally using my knife to slice through them without crushing or tearing has been very gratifying.

Likewise, scraping vanilla beans and steeping them in milk, whisking eggs and sugar and butter and flour together, tempering the mixture with the hot vanilla milk and stirring in dark rum all so the batter can sit in the fridge for 48 hours until it will be time to coat my molds with a combination of beeswax and butter before filling them to bake into that classic French confection of crackly caramelized crust and tender custard within has also been a fine way to spend my time.

The Power of Words

 Lucy was not sure at all about the family approaching us on the trail this afternoon. Catching sight of the four of them with their adorable dog, she tensed and let out a low growl. 

"Look!" called one of the little girls. "That dog looks like a big version of Boomer!"

She was right, our dogs did resemble each other.

"Awwwwww," her sister and mom responded. "She's so cute!"

It must have been the tone of voice, or perhaps it was the sheer admiration, that disarmed Lucy, but whatever it was, she relaxed her shoulders, lifted her tail, and pranced happily past.

"Have a great hike!" the dad said us as we passed him on the trail. Boomer just wagged his tail.