Window Seat

I practically grew up on a plane-- my dad worked for TWA and my parents took full advantage of the travel benefits. When we were kids, my brother, sister, and I used to fight for the window seat, but now I'm lucky that Heidi just lets me have it, partially because she likes me, and partially because she hates to fly, and the window freaks her out a little. On the rare occasions that I travel alone, I always select the window seat, too; I don't care about the delay in disembarking; I'm all about the view.

My favorite part of the flight is the takeoff-- I love how it feels as the plane gathers speed down the runway, the g-force pushing you back in your seat, then that gentle tip and a little rocking and all of a sudden you're airborne. After that, my nose is pretty much pressed against the window, as long as there's something to see. My brother and I recently had a disagreement about how easy it is or isn't to tell where you are on a cross-country flight. He flies a lot more than I do, but it's hard for me to let go of the illusion that I am a human atlas.

Today I flew home from Minnesota, where my mom lives. There were two legs to my journey; I changed planes in Chicago. From the air, the city of Chicago reminds me of the Emerald City: so often it rises majestically from the prairie mist with the sunlight gleaming off of Lake Michigan behind it. Then, as our plane climbed to its cruising altitude, I happened to be listening to a song with some orchestral arrangement and the strings swelled at the very same moment we broke through the clouds and into the clear blue sky. I gasped at the dizzying grandeur of the moment and wondered why on earth anyone would ever choose an aisle seat.

Hopeless

A couple of summers ago we came out here to Minnesota to visit my mom and to take a trip "up north" to the source of the Mississippi River and the Boundary Waters. While we there, we visited a bear preserve in Ely, and I was captivated by the story of Lily, the wild bear that the center's researchers were tracking by radio collar. They had been able to place video cameras in her den, as well, and so they had a pretty thorough biography of this young black bear. They even had footage of her giving birth to two cubs, the subsequent death of one a couple of months later from illness, and the growth of her remaining cub, which they named Hope.

They actually have a fan page on Facebook, which I joined, but the supporters of Lily and Hope are so enthusiastic that I eventually turned notifications off for the group. Even so, I would check in every few months, and so I knew that the two had become separated when Hope was barely one, that they were reunited a while later, that in the spring Lily bore another cub, named Faith by researchers, and that the three were living together as a not uncommon bear family unit.

On the radio this morning I heard a piece about bear hunting. Today is the last day of the season up here and bear-bagging is down this year about 25% to 2,000. Hunters only killed one radio-collared bear, too, compared to eight last year. (It is not illegal, but highly discouraged to shoot collared bears in Minnesota.) But there was another research bear casualty. The yearling, Hope, slipped her radio collar and was killed by a hunter about a month ago.

Consider the Audience

I have been away from school this week, but technology has allowed me to be connected and even functional in my absence. In addition to being up-to-date on school correspondence, I have answered logistical questions from team mates, given my input on student concerns, and exchanged emails with a parent.

Something I could not do remotely was to help score the student writing samples. Today was the time we set aside for the whole staff to do that. Because my team was down a few members, I really felt supported when I read the email this morning saying that both the principal and the director of guidance were filling in to get the job done in my absence.

Later on, I thought about all the writing pieces the group was reading. In sixth grade the prompt for this assignment is Your principal wants to invite a celebrity speaker to your school. Think about the celebrity you would choose to speak; then write a letter to persuade your principal to invite this person. Be sure to include convincing reasons and details to support your choice.

Lots of kids always ask me when they see the assignment if the principal is really going to see their letters, and I always tell them that they are welcome to send them to her if they'd like. I giggled a little when I thought of her reading letter after letter addressed to her today, and I wondered if any of them had hit their mark.

Process Versus Product

Despite my indictment of daytime TV yesterday,(I'm sorry TV!) this morning I did see something that I had to try right away. A lovely young Asian woman with a charming British accent was demonstrating a couple of her dim sum recipes. It was not so much the ingredients as the technique that captured my attention-- she showed how to push the center of a won ton wrapper down into the circle you can make with your thumb and index finger to form a little well for the filling. Next you just gather the corners and press them together at the neck for a perfect little dumpling purse. 8-10 minutes in the steamer, and you will be dining on dim sum as good as any restaurant might serve.

There is something so exquisite about knowing the best way to do a job, that although my dumplings were delicious (if I do say so myself), and my mom really liked them, too, making them just might have been the most satisfying part.

Slick Packaging

I do not often have the occasion to watch daytime TV, but today was an exception. Wow! There is a lot of advice out there. Everybody wants to give you information on what is best for you, and it is all presented in very bright, attractive packages, so stimulating that the time just flies from segment to segment, commercial to commercial.

But look-- I don't have anything else to say about it.

Not So Fast

I'm out visiting my mom, and a couple of her friends, whom I've never met, offered to pick me up from the airport. "They'll have a sign with your name on it," my mother told me, and I pictured any number of arrivals that I have witnessed over the years, both in person and in movies and on TV.

Modern convenience and technology foiled our plan, though; it turned out that they would be waiting for me in the mobile phone lot, and so all I needed to do was give them a call once I'd collected my bag. As I left the secured passenger area and followed the signs toward the baggage claim, I was actually thinking nostalgically about how the pragmatic tradition of greeting an unknown passenger with a sign would soon become anachronism. Just then, I spotted one lone gentleman scanning the crowd as we spilled off the escalator. He was holding something in his hands and as I drew nearer I could see what it was: an iPad with a name and itinerary displayed.

Outside on the curb, I waited for my own ride, and it wasn't long before my mom's friends pulled up, cardboard sign and all.

Challenged and Engaged

One of the strategic goals of our school system is ensuring that all students are challenged and engaged. I like it. I believe that all humans deserve such conditions in whatever work they choose; nothing is drudgery when we value the task.