Don't Forget to Write

I've been checking in with the summer blog I set up for any students who were interested in continuing to write once school was out. Participation has definitely dwindled, but I'm not disappointed; there is still a handful of kids who blog regularly-- in fact just a few minutes ago I was commenting back and forth with a kid in Okinawa, where they are eating breakfast and weathering a major typhoon, and another kid in Bolivia, where they are enjoying a mild winter day in the tropics. I also wrote to another kid who is lucky enough to be on vacation in Paris.

It's easy to take technology for granted, but that's pretty cool, right? To me, it's nearly miraculous, especially considering that when I was in middle school, my family moved to Saudi Arabia, and staying in touch with my friends meant mailing a letter, knowing it would take at least 10 days to get there and then waiting another couple of weeks for a reply.

Screen Time

There's a restaurant near my home that is, shall we say, a little leftist in its leanings. They have a very progressive bookstore on the premises and they sponsor quite liberal lectures, readings, etc. Not surprisingly, the decor is pretty hip, and in one section, they run a continuous slide show with interesting illustrations that sport provocative captions.

If you're me, eating there and facing the screen, the slides, although undeniably cool at first, can become a borderline detraction from your dining experience-- especially the ones that are a little disturbing or have too much text to read before they switch. It's probably because I am obsessively drawn to the screen; I can't ignore it, and so I read the messages over and over.

I've recognized that screen time has become a bit of an issue with me lately, so much so, that I have begun deliberately limiting my exposure to the computer, iPad, and iPhone. Just today, I realized that movies have to be included, too.

TV is not as big a problem for me-- I must have overdosed long ago, and like a drinker who stays away from gin, I know my limits for television. There is family legend about me craning over the railing of my crib toward the TV, and as soon as I could read, I memorized the weekly TV Guide. (Of course, back then, it was just three networks and UHF.)

But all of that aside, there is much of value to be gleaned from the constant bombardment of images and text that we both choose and are subjected to. In the slideshow, for example there was one caption I found compelling every time: I just want to hear one person say that it wouldn't be the same without me.

It's not what you might think... I don't need to hear those words; I think I need to learn to say them.

The 5 Rs

Today I spent a few hours with a friend who teaches the same thing I do, sixth grade English, but at another school in our county. Brains buzzing, we whiled away the time plotting out and planning for the next school year. Our conversation reminded me that the first part of summer vacation is for relaxing and recovering, and the second half is for recharging, regrouping, and reorganizing.

Just Dreamy

I dreamed about school last night. It was one of those weird anxiety dreams and so I wasn't prepared for the lesson (as if that would ever stop me!), and the students were not cooperating. To further complicate matters, I was in a completely unfamiliar classroom, standing on top of a cabinet and trying to write on a whiteboard that was placed all the way up by the ceiling. But the cabinet was too high and a little too far to the left, so I had to squat and reach way over to write. Well, I would have had to, except my lesson never started. I was planning to have the students and visitors, did I mention there were visitors, too? Parents were there also, for some reason. Anyway, I was going to do a group brainstorm about why reading is important and what kinds of things the group had recently read, but the dry erase marker wouldn't write, and then the students wandered off, although their parents stayed, waiting expectantly for the activity to begin, until at last the bell rang.

It wasn't a very restful night.

On This Date...

JK Rowling turns 46
Harry Potter turns 31
and Bingo the cat?
18 baby!
Now that's old!
Happy Birthday Bing!

For the Birds

The dry summer we are having has made the ripening tomatoes in the garden verrry appealing to the birds. They just peck through the wall of the not-quite-ready tomatoes and sip out the juice. Isn't that clever? How refreshing it must be for them. Last year, they didn't go near them, but now they don't even hesitate when I am standing right there.

I'd like to peacefully co-exist with the other creatures in the neighborhood, and I can share, even, but I threw out at least a dozen disintegrating tomatoes this afternoon. This is war, birds.

We Open Late

You can imagine how it is when some people, newly-met, learn that one is an English teacher-- I'll have to be careful of what I say, they might remark, although that response was much more common when I started teaching. I did have a friend once tell me that he would never write to me again if I ever corrected his grammar, and of course I agreed. (To be honest, it was worse when I was a cook and people would never invite me over for dinner.)

In fact, people who know me know that I'm not a language nit-picker. Particularly as a teacher, I err on the side of meaningful communication every time, because you can always fix your grammar mistakes. For my birthday, my mom gave me a copy of Grammar Rants by Patricia A. Dunn and Ken Lindblom, the premise of which is that by analyzing the denunciations of language critics we can educate students (and ourselves) about language and correctness and how they impact good writing.

Still, I giggled a little today when I read the marquis at a fast food restaurant. For want of a verb, the message was lost.