Please, Sir, I Want Some More

There's something about food that brings out a bit of the writer in everyone. As an example, I offer a few observations from the current sixth graders:

If you don't like pizza, you don't have a soul!

My Favorite food is is deep south out of the pot homemade lick the spoon chili.

I like to go to MCdonalds on Sundays with my cousin and play outside with my friends and I ask a lot of questions about things just to make sure.

I love any food, as long as its not veggies or some sticky gooey thing.

I love dogs, if I get a Mexican dog I will name it Taco, because I love tacos too.

And finally...

Have you ever been to the krispy kreme factory-store? It is really awesome- you can see the donuts going through the glazing fountain and stuff like that. I'll post something in creative writing about the factory....

The Trials of Donut-dom

I wiggled. I tried to get myself out of this uncomfortable rounded shape. I felt as if I had a hole in me, but, looking back, I realized I actually did. Me and the other lumps of dough rode on a black Ferris-Wheel-like thing, all the time coming closer and closer to a hole. If this wasn't enough embarrassment, humans stared at us as were exposed as pieces of dough.

The Boss of Me

I ran into a neighbor of mine this morning while I was walking the dog. She had her dog, too, and so we continued on home together, making small talk as neighbors do. When she asked about school, I gave her a brief report on some of the frustrations of the first three weeks of the year, and then I returned the question.

This particular neighbor works at the capital, so I ended my inquiry with, "Things must be kind of hopping up there, eh?"

"It sucks," she answered bluntly. "I honestly do not know how so many idiots were ever elected to office." She paused and shrugged. "Maybe they were just trying to get them out of the neighborhood."

Okra Dokey

Today my students and I read the poem Knoxville, Tennessee by Nikki Giovanni. It's a good beginning of the year common text because it has so much sensory detail in it. It is also written in a child's voice, and the entire poem is a single sentence. I always like to challenge any student who is willing to try to read it all in one breath. Sixth graders love that kind of thing. They also enjoy talking about the images that resonate with them, and so today we talked a lot about barbecue, homemade ice cream, and okra, which I've discovered is a bit of a litmus vegetable. Kids from all over the world are familiar with it, but many of their peers, also from all over the world, are not.

Here's the poem:

Knoxville, Tennessee

I always like summer
best
you can eat fresh corn
from daddy's garden
and okra
and greens
and cabbage
and lots of
barbecue
and buttermilk and homemade ice-cream
at the church picnic
and listen to
gospel music
outside
at the church
homecoming
and go to the mountains with
your grandmother
and go barefooted
and be warm
all the time
not only when you go to bed
and sleep.

Superstition

This morning, a black and white cat crossed my path. It flashed across four lanes of traffic barely avoiding my front tires and then disappeared into somebody's backyard. It was close enough that I was trembling a little at the next light so relieved not to have witnessed its injury, let alone caused it myself.

I thought of the time I once saw a friend take a rock and crush the skull of a mortally-injured mouse that her cat had grown bored of and abandoned in the driveway. Certainly, I had seen death with my own eyes, and many have died on my behalf and even at my demand, but I questioned then whether I personally could commit such a violent act of mercy, and I wondered the same thing today.

Next Time, Just Ask

So much has been written about changing the basic parameters of education without consulting teachers and I have neither the time nor the desire to address that issue here and now, but indulge me by considering the following.

Our school system has been undergoing a huge technology upgrade the likes of which I have not seen in the 19 years I've been teaching here. Such an improvement could be so exciting-- personally, I love technology, and who doesn't appreciate making things easier? Since we came back to work at the end of August, though, the promised enhancements have been overshadowed by delays and problems, and most of what I've heard from my colleagues is a variation on the question of Where are the benefits in these changes, again?

Part of the plan is to give every teacher a lap top, configured for school use with limited capabilities outside of our network. They were shooting for convenience, I'm guessing, but think about entering hundreds of grades without a number pad.

See what I mean?

And Just What Was it that Made all the Difference?

As we ran some errands today, the Sunday drivers and general weekend road congestion began to grind on my nerves. Stopped at a light I considered our usual route, and since the thought of the stop and go traffic at a certain point was almost too much to bear, I decided to take another, hopefully less traveled, way. Not so far from home, we remembered another stop we had to make, and my mental GPS was recalculating when Heidi said, "That was a stop sign back there."

"Not for me," I laughed just before the whoop whoop and flashing blue and red pulled behind me.

"I'm sorry I missed that Stop sign back there," I told the cop when he walked up.

"How did that happen?" he asked. I don't think either of us was prepared for the long rambling explanation I provided about the confusing placement of the sign as well as what I was thinking at the time of the infraction, but hey, he asked. He shook his head and took my license and registration back to his cruiser. In a little while he returned with the dreaded clipboard. "I ran your information," he said, "You have five points on your record."

"How did I get those?" I asked. "What did I do?"

"It's five positive points," he told me with raised eyebrows. "That's good. Are you sure you're all right to drive?"

Clearly I am with all those points, I thought, but I actually said, "Yes. I promise I'll be more attentive."

"Then get out of here," he waved his hand, "No ticket today."

Always Leave Them Wanting More

Last week, one of my students posted about the weekly web show he does with his buddy and sister. We broadcast live every Friday night at 8! he wrote and gave the web address. As it happened, I was sitting in front of my computer a little before 8 last night, and so I navigated over to the site. Even before its official start time, the webcam streamed a lot of activity as the three of them prepared for the show, moving bicycles and other stuff out of the way of their set in the garage. As they worked, they chatted and spat at each other, as kids do; this time it was mostly about why someone was so mean, nuclear bombs, and what Mom said they had to do. All of a sudden a huge blurry face appeared in the screen and then disappeared. "Oh my gosh we have two live viewers!" an excited voice announced. "Somebody else is watching!" he said, and then the feed went dead, replaced by a test pattern.

Oh, how we crave that audience, and still we panic when we see them.