The Inner Groundhog

Since tomorrow is Groundhog Day,  I decided to ask the sixth graders to make a prediction. Most were willing, if not eager, to play along, but not all were. "Oh, I can't," said one this afternoon. "I don't celebrate that holiday."

Fortunately, I anticipated gaps in the students' knowledge and understanding of the day, and so I had a short video that detailed its history and traditions. One of the many interesting facts that we discovered was that statistically? The groundhog is only right anywhere from 30-40 percent of the time. A coin toss is more accurate.

Asking a group of sixth graders what they predict has proven to be more accurate as well. By the end of the day, they were evenly split on whether the weather would bring us six more weeks of winter or if, maybe, spring was right around the corner.

Time will tell which half was right, but at least half of them will be right. Take that, Punxsutawney Phil!

A Tiger in Your Tank

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the Lunar New Year starts today. But what I didn't say was that this year? Is my year! 

Not only is the Year of the Tiger for me and everyone born in 1928, 1940, 1962, 1974, 1986, 1998, and 2010, but it is also the year of the Water Tiger, which only comes every 60 years. 

According to Feng Shui Web, we water tigers like to take part in a wide range of activities and are always willing to experiment with new ideas or satisfy our adventurous personalities by traveling around the world to distant lands. We are adaptable, perceptive and have a humble nature about us. 

We will remain calm in a calamity but can sometimes be very indecisive. We communicate very well with others and through our vast range of capabilities and convincing nature will usually achieve what we want in life. We are highly inventive and are often extraordinary writers. 

And while your own year may be unlucky in Chinese tradition, a tiger year generally favors the bold. Any who are ready and willing to move forward with passion could be well rewarded this year. Go big or go home, Tiger.

You Must Remember This

When the scholars in my class need help remembering things I often advise them to set a reminder on their iPads. It's a strategy that I use myself, admittedly with varying degrees of success. Most recently, I set an hourly reminder when my homeroom and I were trying to learn the Pledge of Allegiance in ASL. Whenever my watch chimed, I paused to practice the signs. Well, most of the time, and definitely enough to become pretty familiar with the gestures.

A few days later, I reset the app to remind me to practice daily, but I must have tapped something wrong, because I started getting 2 reminders every hour. Even so, it's easy enough to ignore them, although that does defeat the purpose. 

A few months ago, I set a daily reminder to "Plan the big 6-0" so that I would stop procrastinating on finding and finalizing a place for our family to gather at the end of June this year. It gave me a bit of pause, though, when Siri read the reminder out loud. Plan the big six-nil, she intoned, reading my coming age as the score of a soccer match or something. What does that even mean?

Probably the oldest, continuous reminder I have on my phone is from the summer of 2018. Then, my mom gave my a gift certificate to a restaurant downtown. Reservations were notoriously elusive, opening at midnight on the first for the month to come, and I set a daily reminder to try to book it. "Did you get one?" Mom would ask when we talked, but I never did. Six months later, my mom got sick and our time and attention were otherwise occupied. And then she died, the pandemic came, and, well. 

I don't even have the gift certificate anymore; I have no idea where it went. But every now and then? I still get a reminder to make that reservation. 

Year of the Which?

This Monday is the start of the Lunar New Year celebration for 2022. As kids we were fascinated by the "Chinese Zodiac" printed on so many placemats in so many Chinese restaurants. In between nibbles of fried noodles we would lift our little cups of tea and read the tiny descriptions for each of the 12 animals that represented the cycle. 

I was a tiger, "aggressive, courageous, candid and sensitive. Look to the Horse and Dog for happiness. Beware of the Monkey." 

My brother was a dragon, "eccentric and your life complex. You have a very passionate nature and abundant health. Marry a Monkey or Rat late in life. Avoid the Dog."

My sister was a horse, "Popular and attractive to the opposite sex. You are often ostentatious and impatient. You need people. Marry a Tiger or a Dog early, but never a Rat."

My mom was a rabbit, "Luckiest of all signs, you are also talented and articulate. Affectionate, but shy, you seek peace throughout your life. Marry a Sheep or Boar. Your opposite is the Cock."

And my dad was a boar, "Noble and chivalrous. Your friends will be lifelong, yet you are prone to marital strife. Avoid other Boars. Marry a Rabbit or a Sheep." 

Even though we grew bored of reading the same information over and over, we liked it that the placemats confirmed our parents' compatibility; it seemed to verify their accuracy. 

Years later, after my parents split up, my brother and sister and I were on a road trip with my dad from Virginia Beach to Raleigh, NC. We had gotten an early start, and stopped for breakfast in a tiny diner somewhere on Rte 58. It was January of 1987, and my dad's birthday had recently passed. We got to talking about the next year being a leap year and how all of our birthdays would be 2 days later in the week instead of just one. 

"Not mine," my dad said with  his trademark, know-it-all, smirk.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and then I gasped, because I got it. His birthday was before February 28, and so it wouldn't skip a day until the year after leap year. My mind? Blown.

We started to tease my dad about it. "That's got to be unlucky!" one of us said, and the silly mantra "Unlucky, born before leap day," intoned like a mock chant, entered into our idiosyncratic family lore. 

My dad didn't live to see another birthday; he died that March. And it was many years after that, when I was considering the Chinese Zodiac, probably staring at a red, white, and black placemat waiting for my meal, that I realized that he wasn't a boar at all. My dad was born before leap day and the Lunar New Year. He was actually a dog, "Loyal and honest you work well with others. Generous yet stubborn and often selfish. Look to the Horse or Tiger. Watch out for Dragons."

Maybe.

The Crooked Eye of the Beholder

One of the ads that came up a few times over the last couple days of class discussion on memorable commercials was this one:

Most students remembered it because it is so bizarre, featuring peculiar chinchilla-like rodents superimposed with seriously amblyopic human eyes and toothy human mouths screeching an offbeat jingle about $2.99 toasted subs. First appearing in 2004, they have become something of meme, and so they are popular with kids who were not even born then.

So when another student mentioned it today, I asked if he considered it memorable because it was so weird.

"Weird?" he responded. "I don't think they're weird. I find them rather stately."

"Stately?" I said. "Really?"

"Yes," he assured me. "Look-- one is wearing a bowler, and the other is obviously an admiral. And--" he paused for dramatic effect, "he is playing a guitar!"

"You make a good point," I agreed, "and they are definitely memorable."

On the Upswing

After months of argument, our English classes have finally reached persuasion. 

The Media Literacy unit we do is always a big hit. Students work in teams of 4 to write and produce a 30-60 second commercial for an imaginary product. It draws on communication skills that have been mostly untapped so far this year and is a welcome pivot. 

We begin by building background knowledge of persuasive techniques, and even though today was mostly note-taking, there was an opening discussion of memorable ads, a fun online quiz game pre-assessment, and of course, lots of commercials to see how the pros use the techniques to sell their products and services. 

"Wow!" I overheard a student say this morning. "English is really improving!"

I'm glad he thinks so.

I've Been Trying to Tell You

The last of those dang essays are still trickling in, a week and a half late. Today I spent the beginning of lunch working with a couple of recalcitrant writers. Our task was to compose a single body paragraph for their arguments, one that they could then use as a model for the rest of their essay. I dictated a topic sentence and suggested some transition phrases to help them organize the evidence and reasoning they already had. Within 10 minutes both students were on their way to a passable draft. 

"I just had no idea essay writing was so easy!" one of them exclaimed as he headed to lunch. 

Off the Junk Heap

I asked my students to compare their writing from the beginning of the unit to the end and then to explain whether they felt their argument skills had improved or not. Most writers felt that they had learned a bit about claims, evidence, and reasoning, and were happy to document their improvement. A few kids did not see any growth, though. One of them volunteered, "My essay at the beginning was trash, and this one is too!"

"I'm sorry to hear that you are unhappy with your writing," I said, "but I don't agree that it's garbage."

"I said 'trash'," she corrected me.

"What's the difference in your mind between trash and garbage?" I asked.

"Trash is trash and garbage is garbage," she replied dismissively.

"Wow! You really are bad at arguing," I teased her.

That got a little smile. 

"Now let's work on that writing!"

Clarity

The building that I teach in is 50 years old. Of that time, it has been my work place for 29 years, and despite its many flaws (very few windows, hulking architecture, early 70s style brown brick, looks like a prison, interior microclimates, leaky roof, cinderblock bathrooms, and more!) I have the warmest of places in my heart for that big, dark, drafty old building. 

But when there were nascent plans to remodel and displace me to move the front office to the where I've been comfortably ensconced for the last three decades, I wondered if it was time to say good-bye. Oh, I got on the committee, and I did some community networking, and I told my tale to anyone who would listen, but in the end, I knew it was out of my hands, and I had to let go, so I did. 

And every day since then has been almost like a gift. There have been countless times when I've paused to consciously appreciate the way the light falls in the late afternoon when I am planning or the quiet of the space as I ready for the day or the joyful energy of a room full of sixth graders. Realizing how fleeting it all is has reminded me of how wonderful it all has been. Today I received word that the renovation is indefinitely on hold; it seems that I may keep this space a little longer, if I will.

I think I may do just that.

One Star Review

For the second weekend in a row, despite high hopes, we watched an unsatisfying movie on Saturday night. Last week it was the new Marvel flick, The Eternals, and last night it was Ridley Scott's medieval drama, The Last Duel. Although very different films, in my opinion both suffered from the same problem: too much information. With running times of over two and a half hours, the movies were too ambitious for their own good. 

In The Eternals, we must meet and learn the stories of the ten (ten!) title characters. There's over an hour and a half of exposition before the true conflict is revealed, and then another hour to resolve it. Marvel is setting up a new franchise here, possibly to replace the Avengers, but even in the Academy Award winning hands of Chloe Zhao, the movie lags. 

Oscars are in no short supply for the cast and crew of The Last Duel, either. Ridley Scott and Ben Affleck both have directing nods, and Affleck and Matt Damon won for their screenplay of Good Will Hunting. None of that talent could salvage Duel for me. Based on the true story of Marguerite Carrouges, who accused Jacques Le Gris, a squire of Normandy, of rape, triggering her husband's duel to the death with him, The Last Duel is a compelling story, told once, maybe even twice, but in this film we see the same events from the perspectives of all three main characters. As each re-telling adds very little to the narrative, the technique is overkill, ultimately unpleasant and worse, boring.

Fingers crossed we'll have better luck next Saturday Night.

One Satisfied Customer

 At the end of the essay unit yesterday, I was helping a student finish his writing. "What's your claim?" I asked him.

"That you are a terrible babysitter," he told me, "because you are bossy, evil, and manipulative."

I nodded, unfazed. I knew he was writing his essay about the story I had written about a bad babysitting job. "What's your evidence?" I asked him.

We spent the next few minutes going over the story and polishing his argument. "Thanks!" he said when we were through. "That's a lot better."

"I guess I'm a better teacher than babysitter," I laughed.

"You really are!" he agreed.

Brain Freeze

The question today was, What one super power would you choose if you could? I was not prepared for the lively discussions that ensued; it seems like everyone has some serious thoughts on this issue. 

"I would control time!" declared one student. "That way I would never be late."

His classmates laughed.

"That's right," he continued, "everyone would be frozen, and I would be taking my time, stopping at 7-11 for breakfast."

"How would you pay?" someone asked. "The people would be frozen."

"That's right!" he said. "Even better! Think about everything I could take while everyone was frozen! And not just at 7-11."

"So you would be a super villain, then?" asked another student.

"Uhhhhhhh," he hesitated, "not exactly."

"Really?" she pressed. "Because it sounds like it to me."

"Okay," he conceded, "maybe I would unfreeze time to pay for my breakfast."

Age Appropriate

After doing a couple of jigsaw puzzles over the snow days, we decided to go all in and so we ordered a couple of new table lamps and fancy puzzle board with drawers and a cover. This way, we can do puzzles AND put them away should the need arise. I set it up right away when it came, and I have to admit, it's pretty cool.

Back at school, I was telling my friend Mary all about our nifty new set-up and all the puzzles we were planning to do.

"Wow!" she replied. "You really are turning sixty this year."

And Fun for All

"You know what I want to know?" I asked my homeroom the other day. We were watching the morning announcements, or "my favorite show" as I like to call it, and one of our ASL interpreters was standing behind the student announcements as usual. "I want to know how to do the Pledge of Allegiance in sign language!" 

They looked at me with a mix of amusement, interest, and skepticism. 

"We can do it!" I said. "I'll find a video!" And I did.

Over the years, I've mastered all sorts of random things that were of interest to my students. For example I learned the names of the Spice Girls, all the members of the Back Street Boys, and the words to Eminem's "Lose Yourself". One year, I bought juggling balls and we all tried to learn to juggle, and another year we sang "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" accompanied by a student on the violin and me on the ukulele. 

The pledge is a little complicated for this old brain of mine, but that's okay. We are going phrase by phrase, and so far we've reached ...to the United States of America." It's slow-going, but we've got time, and learning together is really fun.

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah

I'm always saying things to my homeroom like, "You know what I want to know?" and then I tell them. I think it's a good idea to model curiosity and to show them that everyone has things they can learn. 

Like just the other day, we were watching an update on the Webb telescope and another video about the new NASA program to send people back to the moon and beyond. "You know what I want to know?" I said when the video ended. "Well, I actually have a list including space junk and mission time lines, but let's start with this: why is it called the Artemis program?"

"That's Apollo's twin sister," one of the students informed me. "Like the first manned moon program? And she's the goddess of the moon."

"That makes sense!" I agreed, "So why didn't they just name the first one after her?"

Due Time

The world is a little darker this evening. I mean that literally: I spent some of my holiday Monday taking down our lights from the last holidays, packing them neatly in bins, and stowing them in the attic until December. I really liked our lights this year; after the amazing displays of 2020, I decided to up my game a bit in 2021. I did some research on small home lighting arrangements, looked at pictures, and scoped out the neighborhood, and shopped online to create some new light arrangements. Shimmering stars, classic multicolor C9s, rainfall lights, and 50-bulb twinkling globes merrily festooned our tiny decks and front porch.

"Is there a rule about how long you should leave your Christmas decorations up?" Heidi asked me the other night as we were walking over to pick up Lucy. Lots of lights were still cheerfully glittering in the twilight. 

"You mean like no white after Labor Day?" I asked in return. "Maybe everything should be put away by MLK Day?"

We laughed. "That seems like a good rule," Heidi said.

"But I like our lights," I reminded her. "I don't want to put them away."

"I know," she agreed, "but if you leave them up all year, they won't be special."

She was right of course, but I'm still kind of sad tonight.

Granddaddy of a Tale

Doing a little family tree research this afternoon I stumbled on a couple of mentions of my grandfather in old newspapers. In the first, he made national coverage when he testified before the House Select Committee on Small Business on August 23, 1947. As a resident of Greenbelt, one of the federal government's planned, low-income housing communities, he was called to offer his opinion on whether the government should allow competition to the community owned co-op which ran the grocery, gas station, theater, and drug store. 

According to the AP my grandfather got a big laugh when he quipped, "There are three sides to the question, Ploeser's, Patman's, and the truth." Ploeser and Patman were the ranking Republican and Democrat on the committee. 

In response to his remark, Chairman Ploeser reportedly declared, "Sir, if I could, I would give you a congressional medal of honor for that remark."

(The entire transcript of the hearing can be found on pp 257-260 of this book.)

The second mention came eight years later, almost to the day, when on August 27, 1955, a couple of Vermont newspapers reported that my grandfather was suing David Locke, of St. Johnsbury for 15,000 dollars (which would be the equivalent of ten times that much today). According to the suit, Granddaddy was driving on Rte 2 just west of the town, and when he swung out to pass from behind, Locke veered to the left and ran him off the road and into a tree, totaling his car. 

I don't know how the suit was settled, but I do know that 66 years later, we drove that very stretch of Rte 2 this summer on our way to St. Johnsbury, home of Dog Mountain, a remarkable coincidence, indeed.

Poor Lucy

As I write, Lucy is pestering me. We are siting on the floor by the fire, but every time I place more than one hand on the keyboard, she swats at it, telling me to keep petting her. That behavior usually maddens me-- I can't spend all my time at the beck and call of anyone, least of all my dog, but today I'm giving her a pass, because she's had a tough one. 

Starting with a grooming appointment at nine, temps in the 20s that did not go with her new do, and another puzzle on the table, which took a lot of our attention. All first world problems. Oh, there is no doubt she's spoiled, but if there was?

This might be definitive proof otherwise:

Just as I Hoped

I'm kind of strict when it comes to electronics in my homeroom. When the bell rings, the expectation is to power down all devices and, if the announcements aren't on yet, talk to the people at your table. Reading is okay, too, but I take seriously the idea of using homeroom in middle school as a way to build relationships that will help students feel connected to their school, and in-person interactions are needed even more than ever after the disruptions of the pandemic.

Personal devices and, to a lesser extent, independent reading are counter to the notion of community, and that's why I discourage them, even on Fridays, which are designated as "reading" days in homeroom. Luckily, we have staff and students who do recorded book talks every week, and those offer a communal experience around reading, but the challenge of how to cooperatively use the other 30 minutes of the period remains.

In the past, I've had students choose a book that we read aloud together, and that's pretty good, although once a week is not quite enough to solidly hook the group. I also have a few games that we can play around the books they are reading to make our time more social and interactive. And this year, a couple weeks before winter break I was poking through the game cupboard in my room when  I found my mother's set of Bananagrams. My mom loved all word games, and our family has spent countless fun hours pushing tiles around to make winning words, so I set the bright yellow canvas banana bag on my desk, thinking it might be a good way to spend a Friday morning.

The game was a hit! The sixth graders play in teams of two, working together to arrange and rearrange their tiles into little crosswords. I team up with the girl in my class who has speaks limited English, and it's kind of spontaneous little vocabulary lesson for us. "Do you know the word 'poke'?" I might say, and then give her a little one in the arm if she says no. From time to time, I glance up from our game to give hints and advice to the other teams, and after a few weeks of playing, I see improvement in their strategies. Best of all, we are all sitting together around one of the tables in my room, talking and laughing and thinking about words. 

It's awesome!

Spirit of the Challenge

Our brain break today was to draw "a ghost with a pretzel and a strawberry milkshake." We had three minutes to do our best and then post the picture so everyone could appreciate if not our talent, then certainly our effort and creativity. One student finished way ahead of everyone else. "It was really easy!" she said. "You guys are over-thinking it."

When we revealed the drawings we found that she was right, in the middle of all manor of ghosts with their snacks was one elegant drawing of a pretzel and a milkshake floating in the middle of the otherwise blank page.

"See what I did there?" she laughed, and the rest of us could only congratulate her on her quick wit (and pencil)!

Planning Way Ahead

Yesterday, while we were discussing their One Little Words, I mentioned to one of my classes that I had done another new year exercise called 22 for 2022. "The idea was to make a list of 22 specific things you want to do in 2022," I explained. "it was kind of fun."

"What did they do in the year 2000 for that?" one student wanted to know. "Zero things?"

"I don't know!" I laughed. "That's a good question!"

"And what are you going to do in the year 2077?" asked another student. "Make a list of 77 things?"

"Well," I replied without thinking too hard, "I'll be dead by then, so I don't have to worry about that!"

The poor kid looked a little shocked.

"But you should make that list," I encouraged her. 

She looked unsure.

"At least you have a lot of time to think about it!" I said.

OLW 2022

Another year, another One Little Word assignment-- regular readers might remember my new year tradition of asking my students to share one word that represents something they want more of in their lives in the coming year. This time, instead of asking the young writers to compose a paragraph about their choice, they simply posted the single word, and then each read it to the class and explained why they had chosen it. Seeing the words stand alone was powerful, but hearing the student's voices as they elucidated their ideas was quite poignant. I think I'll do it again this way next year.

Here are the words they chose:

Learn
Productive
Relationships
Success
Sleep
Kindness
Read
Happiness
Me
Science
School
Joy
Chocolate
Light
Doors
Focus
Hope
Remember
Balance
Responsibility
Cats
Acceptance
Therapy
Candy
Intelligence
Love
Screentime
Games
Laughter
Helpful
Comedy
Active
Smart
Intelligence
Taste
Responsibility
Food
Cash
A's
Adventure
Lively
Friendship
Achievement
Change
IQ
Trust
Ambition
Accomplishment
Math
Lacrosse
Competition
Control
Work
Apple cider
Soccer
Luck

So Old It's New

After a few weeks away from school, a couple of the students' iPads were a little glitchy this morning. "Not to worry," I told them, (the students, not the iPads) "I can print out a copy of the assignment, and you can just do it by hand."

They are so used to completing assignments electronically that such an offer seemed very novel to them. "You mean you just push a button on your computer and the paper will come out there," one kid pointed to the printer.

"Yeah," I shrugged, "that's how it works."

"Wow!" she replied without a trace of irony. "That's amazing! Technology today!"

Lazy Sunday

The rain started at around 10:30 this morning, and true to prediction has continued steadily all day giving us a gray and slushy Sunday. "I have three options," I told Heidi around 11:30, after a nice little brunch. "I could do the NYTimes Sunday puzzle, watch some episodes of Evil, or get out the jigsaw puzzle that Richard and Annabelle gave me for Christmas."

"Choose less screen time," she suggested, and so we cleared off the dining room table, brought over an extra lamp, and dumped out the puzzle. It's been years since we've taken the time to do a puzzle at home, so many that we wondered how our nearly 5-year-old cats would take it. But we needn't have worried, both of them and the dog curled up in their beds and slept away the rainy afternoon, while we made excellent progress.

Around 5, I stretched, put on my new winter raincoat, and took the dog for a quick, 2 mile walk, and then it was back to the puzzle, knowing that winter vacation ends for real when the alarm goes off tomorrow morning at 5.

Going Strong

Today would have been Elvis's 87th birthday, had he lived. I know that because a couple of days ago would have been my dad's 87th birthday, too. It's funny to think that those guys were born just 2 days apart-- my dad didn't have a lot of Elvis-like qualities. 

Today is also Heidi's parents' 56th wedding anniversary, a date easy for me to remember, because, see above. This morning Heidi decided she wanted to do a little more than usual to help her folks celebrate the day, since they aren't really eating out because of COVID. So we had some flowers and prepared food delivered to them from the grocery store near their home. That way, her mom won't have to cook, and they will still have a nice meal. 

It took us less than 10 minutes to get everything picked out and sent on its way with the promise that it would be at their door in less than two hours. "Wow!" Heidi shook her head as I closed the lap top. "That internet! It's still pretty amazing."

Counting the Days

When we heard the news yesterday that school would be closed today also, giving us an entire snow week, one of my colleagues texted: Enjoy the rest of your 7 day weekend or your 3 week winter break, lol!

I'll take it either way!

Longterm Memory

I was waiting to drop a package outside the UPS store when a woman coming out stopped and called me by name. "It's Mallory's mother!" she said.

I remembered her, and we had a nice conversation, but as she walked away I was still a little surprised that she recognized me, because 1) a KN95 mask covered more than half of my face, and 2) it had been 20 years since I taught her daughter.

I must have made a big impression!

Roadblocks

This morning I decided to use my third snow day in a row as one of the required five floating professional development days built into this year's school calendar, and I was feeling pretty productive plowing through items on my recertification list when I hit a bit of a jam. 

It's a state mandate that all teachers certify in first aid, CPR, and AED as part of license renewal process. Our district makes it as convenient as possible, offering an online course for the first part and several in-person options for the hands-on portion, but it was the online course that slowed my roll; I just didn't want to see or hear about graphic injuries, even in the service of helping those who might get them. When I got to Bleeding and Wounds it was time to take a break, and so I went to the grocery store. 

With the exception of random piles of slushy ice here and there, the roads were fine, and it was with a renewed sense of purpose that I entered the store to accomplish the next item on my to-do list. I was reviewing my list as I wheeled my cart into the produce section, when looking up I skidded to a halt and gasped. The shelves were almost empty! At the butcher counter, it was the same situation. Don't get me wrong; although I left the store without several items on my list, we want for nothing. Without oranges and arugula, green beans, squash, and avocados, there is more than enough food on our shelves and in our fridge to last a good, long time. 

The storm-impacted roads, added to the already fragile supply chain, and the binge-shopping people always do when snow is forecast, had left the grocery store more depleted than I have seen since, well, 2020. 

Present Moment

Current situation:

Sitting in front of the fire, turtle neck, flannel, fleece, and fuzzy slippers, a cup of tea, a good book, tired from shoveling, but still exhilarated from a couple of hours in the sun and snow.

And just like that?

School is closed again tomorrow.

Perfect Storm

The storm arrived just as predicted: it began snowing right around 4 this morning and the roads were terrible all day. So confident was the forecast that our school district canceled classes at 5 last night, long before a flake had fallen. And when the skies cleared right around 3 this afternoon, there was more snow than we've had in at least 3 years. 

The roads were still lousy, not a plow had passed our way, and school was canceled again for tomorrow. The snow itself was beautiful; heavy packed powder blanketed the ground and although trees bowed beneath its weighty robe, they did not shrug it off, and the sun set over a laden landscape. 

There will be time enough tomorrow to dig out, but today we simply enjoyed the weather.

All Season Gardening

I finally made it up the hill to clean out my garden for the winter. It was 65 today, and I worked in a t-shirt and jeans to stack the tomato cages and pull up and compost the dried bean stalks, peppers, peonies, and sunflowers. It's been so warm the last month or so, that bright green weeds have already covered a lot of the mulch and soil, and I got a fair amount of dirt under my nails as I pulled those up, too. After a couple of hours, the place was reasonably tidy and all ready for the big snow storm that's predicted for tomorrow.

Great Expectations

It's been gray and rainy here all day, but holiday lights still twinkle and blink as the first day of the new year has subsided to quiet darkness. Our traditional dinner is simmering on the stove-- greens, black-eyed peas, ham, chicken, corn, and rice, and some of the family will join us soon.

So far, so good, 2022.

Unorthodox

We always marvel at how much easier it is to pack to come home than it is to leave. This precept isn't really that surprising: coming home only requires gathering what we have brought and acquired; leaving home often demands careful thought and curation of all the stuff we have to select and bring what we need and what we may want while away.

I found the same to be true for our Christmas Tree, which met an earlier than usual end this year. When we got home from our holiday travels, the branches were too dry and droopy to make it to New Years. And so I spent an hour or so yesterday afternoon carefully lifting the ornaments to minimize needle dropping, appreciating each one before gently replacing it in the bin where it will spend the next 11 and 1/2 months. The job took half as long as it did to put the tree up just a few weeks ago.

The forced cheerfulness of a Hallmark movie was not the right accompaniment for this task. Instead? I chose to watch the first couple episodes of the second season of Evil, the supernatural thriller which Paramount+ describes this way:

Evil is a psychological mystery that examines the origins of evil along the dividing line between science and religion. The series focuses on a skeptical female psychologist who joins a priest-in-training and a contractor as they investigate the Church's backlog of unexplained mysteries, including supposed miracles, demonic possessions, and hauntings. Their job is to assess if there is a logical explanation or if something truly supernatural is at work.

That worked.

Fact Checking

Sometimes when I'm writing for this blog I pause to do a bit of research on my topic. Then, it's a happy convergence of writing to discover what I think, what I know, and what I'd like to know. 

Take yesterday, for example. I knew quite a bit about Great Falls, but I was also writing to tell about something new I had learned, and as I wrote, I looked up "Matildaville" to add to the knowledge I had about that long-ago town. I found out that it was named by Henry Lee for his wife, Matilda. Lee, who was known during the Revolutionary War as Light Horse Harry, was an early invester in the Patowmack Canal, and owned most of the acreage that makes up Great Falls Park today. 

Matilda died in childbirth in 1790, and Lee married again. Legend has it that a few years later, his second wife, Anne, was pronounced dead after a seizure and entombed in the family vault. A few days later a gardener was terrified to hear noises coming from inside the mausoleum. When the doors were opened, they found Mrs. Lee alive. One year later, her youngest son, Robert Edward was born.

Imagine how differently American history may have unfolded if Anne Lee had not been rescued.

Who knew?

(Not me, but now I do.)

Great Park

This warm afternoon in December provided just the latest in countless hikes I have taken on the trails of Great Falls Park, right up the river from our hometown. For a relatively small park, there is quite a diversity of trails. The most popular is the River Trail which traces the edge of Mather Gorge and has been built to accommodate easy walks with scenic views, but other choices include the old Carriage Road, the Ridge Trail, the Canal Path, and my personal favorite, The Matildaville Trail, which we took today. 

That path winds past the ruins of the town that was built in the late 18th century to support the construction of the Potowmack Canal, George Washington's Virginia competitor for the C&O Canal right across the river in Maryland. The canal and the town ultimately failed, but relics of both exist in the woods around the falls to this day. 

Just south of the ruins the trail leads to a pretty meadow ringed by tall and rocky scarps, and then the way ascends steeply to the ridge line that overlooks the gorge. From the top, a hiker has several options: continue either north or south on the Ridge Trail, take a steep path down to the River Trail, or enjoy a gentle sloping walk along the Carriage Road. 

They all have their pleasures, but today as we stood in the winter wood surrounded by bare trees, I finally saw how close together they all run. Each trail was really no more than 50 feet from the next, running mostly parallel to the river. A separation of dramatic geography and three-seasons of foliage is what allows over 15 miles of beautiful and varied hiking in a park of only 1.25 square miles. We chose the Carriage Road, and I walked on with an even greater appreciation for our local treasure.

Under COVID Operation

 "There are no home tests available anywhere around here," a friend informed us when she heard we were coming home early. "maybe you should stop along the way."

She wasn't wrong. Our route from Buffalo to Arlington takes us through some rural and semi-rural towns, and, let's face it, through areas where many folks don't seem to be taking the pandemic as seriously as we, and the like-minded majority in our urban area, do. For example, there is a long stretch in our drive where, if we stop, very few are masked. 

We were less than an hour south of Buffalo when we made our first unsuccessful stop at a Rite Aid. "There is a Walmart nearby," Heidi noted, checking her phone. "Should we stop on our way out of town?"

"Why don't you call them first to see if they have any tests?" I suggested.

I could hear the conversation from the driver's seat. "Yes, we have some," the voice on the line told her. "Come to the pharmacy and we'll call back for them."

Heidi hung up frustrated and confused. "What does that even mean?" she shook her head.

"I guess we'll see when we get there," I answered.

Ten minutes later we were waiting in the prescription line. When it was our turn, Heidi approached the register and said in a low voice, "I was told you had some COVID tests."

The woman behind the counter nodded furtively. "How many do you want?"

"Two?" Heidi said. 

The woman nodded and went to the back and picked up the phone. In a moment, she returned. "They're bringing them, " she said. "Wait over there."

A little while later, Heidi came to find me in the half-price Christmas section. She had two boxes in a white paper bag. "Should we have asked for more?" she said.

"Maybe," I shrugged.

"Hold these," she told me decisively, and went back to the line. A little while later she returned with 2 more boxes. 

We were feeling pretty lucky when we approached the doors to leave the store. The greeter took a look at us and our bags. "Are those COVID tests?" she asked.

"Um, yes?" I answered.

"They're probably going to set the door alarms off, just so you know," she informed us.

"What should we do?" I asked.

"Just keep walking," she said.

And that is what we did.

The Crows Know

When I woke up in Atlanta this morning, my expectations for the day were nothing like it unfolded to be. After a COVID exposure, we are back in Buffalo, isolated in the basement, and heading home two days earlier than planned. 

So that's what my Upheaval card meant.

What Do You Know?

It may have been half an hour, but it was probably less time that had passed since our group had fractured into one hungry duo and one hungry trio looking for lunch (in two different places), another restless pair not yet content to stop walking and start shopping, and some singletons browsing different stores for post-holiday gifts and other fun stuff. As one of the latter, I carried a bright green bag filled with tiny tins of travel trivia and would you rather questions, along with a real paperback book. I imagined myself relaxing on a bench reading in the unseasonably warm weather, but I ran into Emily, and then Courtney and Treat, and so our group began to reassemble. A few sodas and chicken sandwiches later, we were mostly reunited, and it was time to open those tins. Because? Togetherness and trivia— that's how we roll.

Painting Fences

Good things that happened on Christmas Day: Tracey and Heidi's flight didn't get cancelled; it was sunny and 70 degrees in Atlanta; we were able to walk the dogs for several miles; we mastered several games in the afternoon; the solar gnome glowed in the garden at night. 

"and my hair is still purple," said Emily walking by. "So the point is the monsters are soulless beasts that can't produce their own emotions?" said Victor. "No, I said--" but "he locked me out" said Bill. Then Bill said "it would probably be very mindful for you." "So the ants are also soulless beasts?" Victor asked. "I don't eat leftovers," Annabelle said. Bill and I said "the sweaters in plastic bins" in unison. "I don't want to play yet" said Courtney. "I don't think it's really one universe," I told Victor, "but it would make sense," he said, "anyway they include enough easter eggs to encourage it." 

"solar garden gnome stake," said the box.

The new telescope is going to unfold the universe, provided its three hundred single points of failure do not fail. As we spoke it was one hundred thousand miles from Earth preparing for the first of three course-correcting rocket burns. A rocket is a rod-shaped tool associated with fire, the same as a candle or a torch, which may have animated horses and bison at Lascaux seventeen thousand years ago. A monkey is a kind of brown animal with hands which it uses to climb trees. Monkey see, monkey do.

"Hamsters are allergic to guacamole, baby whales also gain 200 pounds a day." said Richard.

I wish I was in Mexico because the water is pretty.

Wearing a borrowed mask, I waited on the cracked sidewalk for my our Christmas dinner. There was no entrance to the restaurant; the front door had been retrofitted with screens, plywood, and plexiglass to create a touchless passthrough. "15 more minutes," the woman said when I gave her my name. Behind me, a cab driver in a knit cap tapped his foot. I sighed, returned to the car.

"It's not ready yet," I groaned.

"Let's ride around and look at Christmas lights," my sister suggested.

And so we did.

(Title credit to Bill)

Reverse Giftology

"How would you like to give me one more Christmas present?" Heidi asked when I answered my phone yesterday afternoon. I was out running errands and she was shopping with her mom.

"I would love to," I replied.

"Thanks, Baby," she said and hung up.

"Do you want to see what you got me, or should I wrap it up for myself, too?" she asked when we met back at the house.

I laughed. "Maybe!" I said. "I guess someone should be surprised when you open it!"

Beware the Cul de Sac

 A tired dog is a good dog! is a precept of my wife, and so, here in Buffalo, where her parents' young dog is energetic, still in tact, and verrrry interested in Lucy, three miles is the daily minimum. The weather has been comparatively mild, 30 degrees or so, but the wind has been the wild card, and gusts have frozen our fingers and noses and ears. The dogs love it though, and I personally enjoy the challenge of finding a three mile circuit through the winding labyrinth of Heidi's parents' subdivision's streets. 

As we walk in the daylight, we examine the holiday light displays in their off-position. Some are promising-- all those lights! Some are intriguing-- how does that pvc arcade over the sidewalk look when fully lit? Some are classic-- those big molded candles, lamp posts, sleighs and reindeer make me want to jump on eBay. And some are simply baffling-- what could they possibly be going for with those unicorns and that inflatable Oogie Boogie?

Oh, we always vow to walk again after dark, but family commitments and fatigue trump those plans almost every time. So this evening, as I drove home alone from the last of my holiday errands in the gathering dusk, I took a quick left instead of my usual right and rolled through the maze of streets to see all the lights. It was well worth the detour, especially when those tiny flakes of snow brushed my windshield. As they danced in the beam of my headlights, I made that last right turn and drove down our street, which, if I may say, was one of the best.

Santa Baby

"What did you get D for Christmas?" I asked Heidi's brother about his longtime partner.

"Nothing yet," he shrugged. "She can't decide what she wants."

"What are the options?" I said.

"Well, I asked her if she wanted me to surprise her, and that was a definite no" he laughed. "We'll probably get something over New Years when I see her."

"What about you?" I asked. "Do you like to be surprised?"

"Absolutely not!" he answered.

"Well, at least you have that common!" I told him.

Bored Games?

A friend gave me an early Christmas present before we left town. She knows how much I love games, and she knows my politics and the game she chose, I Dissent, had a black box emblazoned with a fancy, lace collar, like those that RBG wore during her time on the Supreme Court. I packed the game carefully along with the gifts we were bringing to Buffalo, thinking I might get Heidi's parents and brothers to help us figure out how to play. 

The game itself was a little complicated, involving issue cards, oral arguments, agreeing or disagreeing cards, as well as voting cards numbered 1-3, with inverse points, indicated by gavels along the bottom. 

And although the topics and discussions were interesting, (for example, Is a text as good as a phone call? Are watching movies at home as good as going to the theater?, Is middle school more fun than high school?) we really only got through about 5 rounds before Heidi's dad excused himself, wished us all a goodnight, and went to bed. 

Is this game good enough to play again? I asked. And we all laughed as we put the cards and the timer back in the box.

A-Carolling

A little while after the sunset silhouetted farms and mountains against the blazing western sky, the full moon rose directly ahead of us, like a stunning orange tunnel we would have to drive through. Soon enough, though, it took its place in the sky, brightening to white, and shining on the road as we pulled in for a quick pit stop at the halfway point between home and Buffalo. 

The three of us dispatched our business efficiently: emptying our bladders, filling the tank, refilling our cups with tea and water, and when I hit the ignition button, Christmas music filled the car as the sound system defaulted from podcast to satellite radio. The song, of course, was familiar, but the performance was not. The LED screen displayed the map of our route, and so I turned to Heidi. "Who do you think is singing this?"

She listened intently. 

"Is it Whitney Houston or maybe Mariah Carey?" I guessed.

"I think it's Mariah," she said. 

"It's a little too fussy for Whitney Houston," I agreed, and she hit the radio icon to check our guess. With that? A new game was born! The miles rolled by as we admired all the holiday lights along the way and guessed performer after performer on the songs we knew so well. Of course there were several gimmes, classic versions that we knew within an opening note or two, and there were also some unfamiliar songs by voices we recognized right away. 

"Did he just say 'Ima be under the mistletoe with you shawty'?" I asked Heidi as Justin Bieber sang through the speakers.

"I think he did," she nodded.

And a little while later, right after I correctly guessed that it was Jewel singing Winter Wonderland (even before the yodeling!), I just had to wonder, "How have we never thought of this before?"

The Prettiest Sight You'll See

At last, everything at our house is all ready for Christmas!

Just in time to leave town... wah, wah, wah.

BUT, we get to spend time with beloved family-- and plus? 

It will all be here when we get back.

Pungent

"Did you burp that thing, or what?" Heidi asked when she came down this morning. She was practically holding her nose. "It smells really strong."

She wasn't wrong. My lacto-fermented veggies were somewhere between half-sour and sour, and I was scooping them out of the pickling jar and into smaller containers.

"It is kind of vinegary," I agreed.

"That doesn't bother me," she said, sniffing the air.

"Is it the garlic then?" I asked.

"Maybe" she nodded, "it's still kind of early!"

Old Technology

"What's that thing?" a student pointed at the VCR/TV tuner I use to project our morning announcements on the SMART Board. It sits on top of a bookshelf, and she hadn't noticed it before. "Is it a DVD?"

I realized that most kids today have no idea how to watch any media other than the streaming or broadcast type. "No," I answered, "It plays VHS tapes."

"Are they white?" she asked.

I thought about it. "Not really," I replied, "but I think I have some around here, if you want to see one." I unlocked a filing cabinet in the corner and opened the bottom drawer. Inside were four video cassettes neatly labeled by class period, and dated April '96. "They look like this," I showed her and the other students who were listening to our conversation. "Have you ever seen one before?"

"I think my dad has some of those," another student reported. "Do they have plastic tape you can pull out?"

I nodded, and he laughed. "I pulled a lot out of some when I was little, and he was really mad."

I popped one of the tapes into the VCR and hit play. On the screen a student was presenting a book project about The River by Gary Paulsen. He had created a game based on the story and was explaining the rules and how they related to the plot.

"Where is he?" the kids asked. 

"He's standing right there," I waved to the interior windows. "My room was a little different then, but look, there's the clock across the hall."

I didn't remember the kid in the video at all, which was a little troublesome to me, so I fast-forwarded to see the next student, who I also did not remember. One more fast forward, and I was still lost. For a long time, I could remember every student I ever taught, but now it looks like that memory drive might just be failing. Even so, I set the video on my desk to watch again another day when my brain was a little more focused.

Am I?

Some years? The kids at school don't even know break is coming? They're like, Wait, what? We're off next week? This year is not one of those years. There's a lot of energy in the air and the sixth graders have been nutso all week: more talkative and less productive, and wearing holiday sweaters, socks, pajamas, and hats. But tomorrow will be proof that nothing is permanent; this crazy week will come to an end and we will all go our separate ways to enjoy a couple of weeks away from school. 

Today I asked kids what they were most looking forward to over break. Sleep was a big answer, and games, holiday gifts, family gatherings, and travel were all also well-represented on the list. "What about you?" one student asked. 

"I'm looking forward to all of those things, too," I replied.

"But you're going to miss us, right?" he said, without a trace of irony.

I scanned the room of 11-year-olds hopped up on holiday spirit and raised my eye brows, but when I turned to answer, his attention had already moved on.

Bingo

The folks who planned our staff holiday party this year had a few fun games for us to play in between eating, drinking, and socializing with our friends and colleagues in the outdoor space they booked. Personally, I was engaged in conversation and so missed out on guessing the administrator, but as I moseyed over to Heidi and the teachers she was talking with, someone handed me a Bingo card. "Can you check off any full rows?" she asked.

I scanned the card. "That I have done personally?" I clarified, making sure it wasn't the Bingo where you try to find someone else who fits the square.

"Yes, YOU!" she answered.

Give detention, go to a boy's basketball game, attend a tennis tournament, I read. "Is there a time limit?" I asked. "Like should I have done these things this school year?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I don't think so."

"Well," I said. "If time is no object, I've got most of these. But I can honestly say I will never get this one."

"Is it the Tiktok video?" she guessed.

"Nope," I shook my head. "It's Be mistaken for a student."

"I guess I can see that," she agreed.

"Yeah," I nodded, "but it's really okay."

I Just Work Here

For the past couple of years, planning our homeroom activities has been taken out of our hands. The practice is a mixed blessing, designed to both ensure consistency among teachers and to save us the time it would take to plan a daily 30 minute activity, some of the stuff they give us to do kind of misses the mark. I like to think that I can teach the hell out of almost anything, but when I can't?  I just shrug and remind the students that it's not my activity, I'm just the messenger. It was a little like that this morning.

"You guys have a bazillion surveys to do this morning," I told my homeroom.

"Literally?" one kid asked in alarm.

"Well, no" I laughed, "but there are two."

"Two???" another kid said, "I thought there were going to be at least five when you said a bazillion."

"I guess I was thinking cumulatively," I confessed. "It seems like you have to do a  couple of Google forms every day."

The students compliantly clicked the links I had provided, but they soon had a lot of questions. "What does it mean to give a quote?" someone asked. "Do I have to search a quote?"

"Does the person I vote for ever know if they don't win?"

"What the heck! How did I get a zero on that question? I thought it was asking my opinion! How can it be wrong to say I like my homeroom?"

"What if my favorite teacher isn't on this list?"

I did my best to field their inquiries, but obviously, they had a point. If your target audience doesn't understand what you are asking, you're not going to get the information you want. I wanted to roll my eyes at the ineptitude, but I shrugged my shoulders instead.

"It's not as easy as you might think to design a good question form," I told my class. "Teachers might make it look easy, but we have some skills!"