Pack Animals

Back when our dog was just a puppy, we took her to the dog park almost every single day because we wanted to make sure she was getting enough exercise, especially considering the fact that she stayed home alone most days in our modestly-sized condo. At any rate, the dog park had a social structure of its own. Not only were the dogs trying to decide who was alpha, some of the people seemed engaged in the same kind of contest. After a while though, we were accepted as regular members of the pack. It was rare that we went and didn't know several people, and in a true sign of belonging, almost everyone called our dog by name.

As she grew older, we opted for different forms of exercise, mostly walking, running, or hiking, as well as swimming in the summer, and visiting the dog park became a rare occasion. A few years later, we happened to stop in one evening, maybe because we were in the area, maybe for old time's sake. I guess the relatively short lifespan of dogs accelerates social turnover, because although the place and the culture had not changed, the pack members were all different.

How odd it was to be in such a familiar location and yet treated as a total newcomer. The clear feeling that we would have to find our place in the community all over again was irritating. Frankly, we had other butts to sniff, and as we pushed our way out into the real world, the double gate clanged with finality behind us.

Wrestling

Today was student-led conference day for us. We have a student on the team who has stopped doing most of his work. He seems apathetic, and his effort has declined to nearly nothing. In the conference, the father explained that it was because his son is convinced that the world will end on December 21 of this year. This boy has seen several television documentaries about the Mayan calendar and he is convinced that there is no point in doing anything.

I was not in that particular conference, but I laughed when my colleague shared the story: it seemed so absurd and so easy to dismiss as a rational adult. It wasn't too long though before I remembered how crushing it can be to carry such a burden of fear and hopelessness.

One night, when I was 9 or 10 years old, I overheard the adults talking. Our neighbor, Vlad, was telling a story about a time he wrestled the devil in his motel room.

A man in a business suit knocked on the door and asked to come in. Vlad gestured to the two chairs by the window and offered the man a drink. Over the course of the conversation, it became clear to Vlad who he was speaking to."Go away," he told the man. "I'm stronger than you." That's when the devil laughed and challenged him to a wrestling match. They struggled there in the middle of the room, arms locked, each one's fingers digging into the other's shoulders. It was a draw until the devil pushed him away and disappeared.

The next thing Vlad remembered was waking up in the morning."But I knew it wasn't a dream," he said, "because there were two vodka glasses on the nightstand."

"Time for bed," my mother declared when she saw my wide-eyed stare. She hadn't known I was listening, but who could have failed to be riveted by the image of our burly neighbor physically grappling with the prince of darkness?

That night, I couldn't sleep. I was sure that the devil was going to come visit me, too. The next day, my mother did all she could to reassure me that no matter what he said, Vlad had been dreaming, and I was safe. I tried to believe her, but I felt that fear wrapped around me for weeks, and it seemed like a long time before the persistent love and happiness of my family and friends helped me get out of its hold.

As for our student, we referred him to the counselor, and now that we know what's bothering him, we'll do our best to convince him to at least have a contingency plan, just in case 12/22/12 dawns with all the promise it should for a twelve-year-old boy.

We all wrestle, but fortunately wrestling is a team sport.

Psst... Hey Coach

This morning I heard a piece on the radio about how Virgin Atlantic has hired a "whispering coach" to teach their staff in the "Upper Class" how to speak at between 20 and 30 decibels, a level chosen for both its calming effect and its unlikeliness to disturb other passengers.

I think there might be a place in middle school for such a professional.

Milestones

This blog came about in response to a writing challenge I accepted on a whim. It was March 1, 2009, and The Two Writing Teachers website was hosting their second annual Slice-of-Life Story Challenge. The idea was essentially to write  "a small sliver of your ordinary life. It’s not the whole, but a slice. The only point to it is sharing a piece of your writing every day." That seemed do-able to me, and here's what I wrote:

We're preparing for a big snow storm here. The timing and conditions seem perfect for a day or two off from school-- the snow is supposed to start this afternoon and accumulate 4-8 inches (or more!) throughout the night, the temperature is predicted to stay below freezing all day tomorrow-- not all that common in Virginia. The other teachers I've talked to today are making a point of not getting their hopes up, for fear of not only having to rise before dawn tomorrow, but of doing so with the extra burden of disappointment.

I won't mind going to school tomorrow, but I wouldn't mind an extra day off, either. When I was a little girl, my mother made sally lunn and spiced tea for us when it snowed. Sally lunn is a yeast bread, enriched with eggs and butter, and the tea was mixed with orange juice, sugar, and cinnamon. I have my sally lunn rising in the kitchen right now.

A few things have changed over the last three years. Heidi's vegan, so sally lunn is rarely on the menu. That's kind of a non-issue though, because the forecast for tomorrow is a sunny 70 degrees.

Today I introduced my students to our own second annual Slice-of-Life Story Challenge. Last year I adapted the premise from TWT, and it turned out to be a hit with the kids. My fingers are crossed for another successful season of slicing.

Headin' South

What a day, what a day! Taking a day off is always a treat, but a teacher pays for it on both ends, first by investing the time to make explicit sub plans so that someone else can guide your charges through their educational day, and then by picking up the pieces when you get back: someone's always in trouble; someone's always mad; someone didn't "get" the assignment (be it literally or figuratively), and no one understands why anyone's upset.

As if that wasn't enough, beyond the door of my classroom there are big changes afoot: a new principal for our school, a very large increase in enrollment for the sixth grade, and a new state-mandated teacher evaluation system. To be honest, my school year began with an earthquake, and it's like the ground is still moving.

Still, you have to find fun where you can. An hour after the last bell had rung, a couple of colleagues and I were griping and grappling with the future. We bantered about what opportunity might be found in all of this upheaval, and the best we could come up with was a change in name for the sixth grade teams. "Bluebirds and Canaries?" I suggested. "It would be cool to have one team for each of the school colors."

And then the conversation quickly flew south (as such conversations held at the end of a long day in the middle of a long year have the tendency to do) to that tropical place where sixth grade teams bask in the glory of their mascots the Blue Peeps and the Twinkie d'Oros.

Winter Break

A happy confluence of events today: our annual post-Oscar night holiday and 66 degrees in February made the beach an irresistible destination. Sometimes it's easy to forget how close we live to the Chesapeake Bay and its fascinating, fossil-filled western shore, but at 10:30 on a regular Monday morning, believe me, you can get there in waaaay under an hour.

We started our day at Brownie's Beach, a little public park that at this time of the year has free parking. We had the place all to ourselves as we beachcombed and boardwalked our way up and back to the town of Chesapeake Beach, with a wet and happy dog and a couple of pieces of sea glass to show for it. Next it was on to North Beach, a classic shore town that, although most places were shuttered for the season, had quite a few happy people playing by the water and strolling on the boardwalk.

It was one of those days I know I'll look back on for the rest of my life and remember the literally golden glow of the winter sun as it warmed the sand and the water.

Integrity

Here it is, our annual Oscar bash and time to make my picks for the pool. Along with the fun comes a yearly dilemma-- do you choose the ones you like or choose the ones you think will win?