Pick and Choose

We paid a visit to Mt. Vernon today-- I do love the place. This trip, we toured the mansion, which I don't often do; the lines to get in the house are usually really long, and the grounds are beautiful enough on their own, but as luck would have it, there was a hardly a wait at all this afternoon.

As we filed through George Washington's home, it was the paint that struck me. It was hard to believe that I could have forgotten that garish green in the family dining room. I asked one of the docents about it, and she assured me that some microscopic paint analysis was used to find the exact formula and recreate it. She also said that Washington himself had chosen the color. Yikes! What was the father of country thinking?!? (Evidently Martha's room design was restricted to their bedroom, which was very tasteful, by the way.)

Many of our fellow visitors to the plantation sported bright new Restore Honor t-shirts, presumably purchased at Glenn Beck's Lincoln Memorial Rally which was also held today, the 47th anniversary of Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech delivered at the same location. Given the time of day, they must have left the rally and headed directly for Mount Vernon. Making my way through the education center, I could understand the appeal that this place might have for Beck's supporters: the original tea party was featured prominently. Continuing through the exhibits, I wondered what the rallyers thought when they read the letter that Washington wrote to his fellow citizens upon leaving office. In it he strongly urged us to find our common ground and to maintain our "unity at home".

Maybe they just considered that particular idea a lapse in judgment... kind of like the paint in the dining room?

The Blahs

Today was the last official day of my summer break, and I wish I could say I took full advantage of it, but sadly, it was a day without much focus. In fact, I think I had at least four versions of the following conversation:

What do you want to do?
I don't know. What do you want to do?
I don't know either. Whatever you want to do is fine.
But what about you?
I'm fine with whatever.
Whatever what?
I don't know.

So... we didn't go out to breakfast. We didn't go to the garden. Some went shopping; some went home; some went to the library and read. We didn't go to the baseball game. We didn't go to the movies.

We did have an ugly little conversation about institutional racism over a nice dinner of corn chowder with lobster, though, and in retrospect, I wish we had avoided that, too.

Gary's last words before bed were these: "If anyone asks, tell 'em we had a wonderful time."

Maybe it's a good thing that school is starting.

Coffee Break

This morning I had coffee with a couple of colleagues. We sat at an outdoor table and chatted about teaching sixth grade English. It seemed so civilized and productive that I wondered why I don't do that more often. Oh yeah, now I remember. Once school starts, who has time for that?

Question Authority

When I was in college, I had a button tacked to the driver side sun visor of my yellow Volkswagen Rabbit that read Question Authority. Looking back on it now, I see it as almost an ironic statement-- I was a very good girl-- but I think the election of Ronald Reagan in 1980 must have inspired me to buy it, if not act upon it.

My relationship with authority has evolved quite a bit in the last thirty years.  For example, when I first started teaching I was very secure in the power structure. The superintendent was like your grandfather, the principal was like your dad, and you, the teacher were the benevolent dictator in your classroom. I ruled confidently, just as my teachers had when I was in school, and a lot like the way that I had overseen my younger brother and sister, the children I babysat, my nephews. My show could have been called Tracey Knows Best.

It's not quite that way anymore. Over the years, I've tried to restructure my class to be as student-centered as possible. One of my primary objectives is for the kids to feel like they're in charge of themselves. I've learned that Because I said so isn't a very convincing argument to an oppositional student.

And as for myself? When I look around at the president, the secretary of education, the superintendent of our schools, I see the guys I went to college with: smart, but not necessarily the people I want in charge of me. Yeah... you could say that I have some questions.

The Assignment

We had our end of summer leadership meeting for school today. Administration, team leaders, and instructional lead teachers all gathered to come up to speed on what's been happening over the summer and to formulate a plan for the coming year.

I attended my first leadership "retreat" twelve years ago. Back then it involved an overnight stay at a motel in Leesburg, a community just far enough outside the city limits to justify calling it a retreat, well, that and the two day schedule. The next year we got a new principal and she put her own personal stamp on the event by reorganizing it into a 9-3 meeting, with lunch, held in our library. (I approved of the change, mostly because I didn't have to share a room with anybody, although I did kind of miss drinking beer on the porch until midnight with Larry and Mark.)

This year we went to someone's house because our building renovation won't be complete until next Monday. We met in the family room, and I got the leather easy chair, so I can't really complain, especially when the principal perched on the stone ledge of the fireplace all day. The meeting had a different kind of feeling than those in the past, and in odd moments, I found myself trying to figure out why. Was it the setting? The ever changing cast of attendees? Or could it have been me? After 17 years, I'm on the downswing of my tenure.

At the end of the session, which ran long as usual because of so many non-agenda issues that seemed worth spending time on, our attention was directed to a single sheet in our folders. Its title was Focusing Work to Improve Instruction and it consisted of six questions:

What does success look like?
How do I impact instruction?
What is my role in our success?
How do I help all kids excel?
How do I monitor progress on a regular basis?
What do I need to do differently?

I folded the paper in half and tucked it into my writing notebook. As the new school year begins, I couldn't ask for better prompts.

Cool It

Last week at the beach we found a chart that reported the monthly average temperatures for that location. As I've mentioned, we didn't really need to look at August, but it was surprising to note that September was usually some 10-15 degrees cooler than the weather we were sweltering in. How can that be? we wondered. September was only two weeks away, and it would take a major change in the weather to meet that published statistic. It seemed preposterous.

Back at home, though, there are subtle signs that suggest summer is flagging, ever-so-slightly: The heat is less intense; the days are noticeably shorter; the humidity slumps; Orion's shoulders, Bellatrix and then Betelgeuse rise in the southeast just ahead of the sun. The psychological effect of getting ready to go back to school may contribute a little bit to the tiny chill (the first big meeting of the year is tomorrow), but I don't think so.

Fall is coming.

The Splitties

Some of the tomatoes in our garden split on the vine before we can pick them. I did a little research and discovered that a lot of water at a time (say, for example, the torrential downpours we've been having this summer) can cause the fruit to swell quickly and crack. The skin around the fissure toughens a bit, but otherwise, these tomatoes are as tasty as any.

One of our roadtrip audiobooks this summer has been The Uglies by Scott Westerfeld. For those who are unfamiliar, this is the first in a four part series (followed by The Pretties, The Specials, and The Extras) that takes place a couple of hundred years in the future. Some sort of bacteria that feeds on oil, both raw and refined, and then causes it to explode has brought about the demise of our civilization. We have been replaced by a group who is, on the surface, much more eco-friendly and politically correct then we ever were. One way that they ensure equality is by conducting extensive plastic surgery on every citizen once they reach the age of sixteen so that they will become one of the "Pretties." Before then people are known as "Littlies" until the age of twelve and then "Uglies" until their operations.

Obviously, two of Westerfeld's major considerations are nature and perfection. My mind wandered to the book this evening as I visited my garden after a week away. So often, we have an image of visual perfection in our mind that has nothing to do with what's best. Homegrown produce can be beautiful, but a lot of it is not quite fit for the grocery store. Despite its superior flavor, it doesn't always look flawless. No matter-- I took my splitties and went home to prepare a very pretty salad, and better still? It was delicious.