Bring It

Today I had the opening session of the latest section of the online early adolescent development course I coordinate, and once again it was very interesting how different this group was from the other two. I guess I understand this concept when it comes to kids, but for some reason it still surprises me when it's an adult class. This group was much less freaked out by the technology details but way more concerned with the minimum amount of work that might be considered "acceptable." I gave my now standard speech about the design of the course and its reliance on participants applying the information provided to their teaching practices. I made the point that each would really get out of the course about as much as he or she put into it. Still there was a question at the end about a particular component. "What if I'm on line, but I don't post very much?"

I shrugged. "Look," I said, "it's like a pot luck. You can bring the paper napkins or you can bake a pie. You still get to eat. You decide what's best for you."

Mixed Blessing

I went to bed last night with a fever of 101 and a sinus headache that felt like I'd been hit in the face with a cast iron skillet. I didn't feel any better when I woke up this morning, and nothing I took or did seemed to help. I stayed in bed until 2:30 this afternoon, and only stumbled down to the kitchen because I was craving grapefruit and a cup of tea. The steaming water in the kettle gave me another idea, and acting on that whim, I made a hot compress and placed it over the bridge of my nose, cheeks, and eyes. It was really hot, and it totally worked-- my headache went away almost immediately. I think I'm even going to be able to go to school tomorrow.

Clowning Around

So the joke box in my room is overflowing, which is an excellent reminder that kids know what kids like and we should listen to them as often as we can. The student who initiated the joke contest came up to talk to me about it the other day. "So what are we going to give as a prize? Don't say a lollipop."

I laughed and shrugged. "This is your thing. What do you think the prize should be?"

Yesterday, all on her own, she brought a little back-flipping gorilla and a better lollipop than the ones I have. "Time to judge the contest," she said and ceremoniously dumped all the jokes onto my desk. Friday is game day in homeroom and several kids set aside their connect four and checkers and came over to lend a hand. After we went through them, it was a tie. "What are we going to do now?" the jokemaster wondered, and I looked around my room. After 18 years, I have quite a whimsical collection of odds and ends. I pulled a clown's nose from a decorated tin can on the shelf behind me.

"How about this?" I asked, donning the schnoz for effect. It was perfect, so perfect in fact that we jumped on the computer and ordered a dozen more to last us the rest of the year. The whole set was four bucks and they'll be delivered on Monday. "Don't worry, I got this," I assured the assembled students.

"See? This is why I love this homeroom!" said one, and I had to agree.

Word Study

I always like it when my students are smarter than I am. Let me give you an example from today: My classes are revising their drafts of memoirs, and one of the kids came up to ask my opinion about a sentence in her first paragraph. I was clinging to the red balance bar oblivious to the fact that soon I would be seeing another shade of red-- blood red.

"That's great!" I told her.

"But does oblivious sound right, there?" she asked me.

"Sure," I answered. "You don't know you're going to fall soon. You're definitely oblivious."

"But doesn't oblivious mean I should know I'm going to fall, like I'm supposed to be aware of it, but I'm not?"

She had a point about the implications of the word. Her usage seemed right to me, but I had to stop and think about the nuances of oblivion. I questioned her about the bars-- how high they were and how she got up there and whether they were meant to be climbed on as she was doing. She and two other students gave me a lively discourse on the playground design at their elementary school, even drawing a diagram of the equipment. I listened carefully.

"Well," I said when they had finished, "I think you were oblivious to the danger. You should have known you might fall."

"But I climbed them every day," she said. "Everybody did. I never thought they were... ooooohhhh! I was oblivious! Thanks!" and off she went to finish her draft.

Vitamin G

I don't like taking medicine. Headache, stomach ache, cramps, aches and pains, whatever, I usually just go with it. Occasionally, an aspirin to take the edge off, but I don't even like to take vitamins-- I try to get my nutrients from my diet. My doctor and I don't always agree about this practice, but so far my blood panels have been fine.

Even so, the last time I saw her, she pushed the multi-vitamin again. "But it upsets my stomach," I grumbled.

She recommended gummy vitamins. "They're not just for kids, you know."

Reluctantly, I made the purchase and threw the bottle in my lunch bag. The next day after I finished my delicious homemade vegetable soup, all full of vitamins, and before I ate my clementine, also chocked with nutrients, I sighed and picked out two soft little orange drops.

And here I must confess that my doctor was right-- they were really good! I don't think I've eaten gummy anything since high school, but I always liked the bears back then, and suddenly I understood why my niece and nephew beg to take their vitamins each day. Yummy! I am a convert.

Salut!

A Fair Day

On this most unscientific of days, when traditionally we interpret the actions of a large rodent as signifying whether the weather will be wintery for another six weeks or if perchance spring is right around the corner, we finally held our school science fair.

Oh the fun I had as a wandering judge questioning random students about their experiments. They gave us a rubric and a standard set of questions that every student was supposed to be able to answer. First and foremost, they were expected to state the hypothesis and ideally cite some research to support it. Most of the kids I talked to, though, based their theory on personal experience-- they believed the battery, fire log, and detergent they used at home would perform the best. No wonder companies spend so much money marketing to kids.

Another of the stock questions was, How could you improve your experiment? My favorite answer came from a cute little sixth grader wiggling around with a skate board in hand. His display board was very stark-- all black and white with minimal text and missing the required graph. In front of it, though, were four little finger skateboards of the type that are confiscated by teachers any time they make an appearance in the classroom. The student himself wore long shorts, a t-shirt, vans and a cap turned backward on his head. His hypothesis? Skateboarding relieves stress.

"Why do you think so?" I asked.

"Because, I'm a skater and I never feel stress," he told me.

I couldn't argue with that, but his scientific method was a little iffy. He'd gone to the skate park and asked people how they felt as they entered and then again as they left. He also asked a few other random people how they felt. I began to understand why there was no graph.

"So... what would you do differently if you did this experiment again?" I asked him. "How do you think you could improve it?"

"I wouldn't change anything," he told me. "Other people might have a problem with this experiment, but personally, I like how it is. I'm satisfied."

It must have been the skateboard.

Emeritus

This year I gave up my position as co-coach of the girls basketball team at our school. There was no animosity involved; it was really just my realization that 15 years was enough and the fact that I wanted to do other things with that time, like the Tolerance Club and the Literary Magazine.

Still, it's an odd sensation to watch the games from the other side of the court. I know all the players, not to mention the plays. I like to imagine that I am helpful in some way, calling out encouragement and guidance in a familiar voice from a place where perhaps the coach's voice is too faint for the girls to hear. And I am still very disappointed when they lose, because I know they are so much better than that.