Too Much of a Good Thing

Hard to believe that there is only one more day of summer vacation left. It's tempting to look at all the things I have not accomplished and to wish for more wide-open days of sleeping in, movies, and food trucks. In fact, today at the pool I let my reluctance slip a bit when I was talking to six-year-old Savannah.

"Are you excited about school starting? Is first grade going to be great?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Oh yes!" she said.

"I'm not that excited," I told her.

She was confused. "Why?"

"Because school is a lot of work," I replied. "I might just like to sleep late and go to the pool every day instead. How about you?"

If I was looking for an ally, I was in the wrong place. "School's not hard!" she scoffed. "It's really fun... maybe even more fun than the pool."

I sighed and nodded because I knew she was right.

A Room of One's Own

The past six years have seen a swelling enrollment in our school system. Even though it wasn't really that long ago that it seemed as if they might close our middle school, now the opposite is true: we are running out of space. As our school becomes more and more crowded, a solution is for teachers to share classrooms. We teach 5 out of 7 periods of the day, but the rooms are in demand even when we are not teaching.

I understand the problem, but what that approach does not take into account is that we have other duties to perform during the non-teaching time, and our classrooms also double as our offices. It is unreasonable to think that we can get as much work done when we are forced to be away from our desks, our phones, and our materials.

Before this, our rooms have been commandeered for use after school and on the weekends by various organizations for classes, meetings, and youth groups. Besides having to pack up and leave whether I am through for the day or not, over the years I have had things damaged and lost by the people who use my room after hours.

To be required to share our professional space is at best an inconvenience and at worst a lack of regard for teachers and their time. With growing enrollments, added accountability measures, and shrinking funds, each year we are expected to do more with less, and now there will be times when we won't even have a place to do that.

Best Practices

One of my pet peeves about educators is that we rarely apply our knowledge of human nature and learning to adult audiences. So many of our presentations for "grown ups" are auditory, made to a sedentary audience. If we want to add pizzazz, we do an ice breaker and a power point.

Seriously?

That's why today, at the midpoint of an all-day meeting, I jumped at the chance to try an activity that one of our PTA members brought back from Alice Water's Edible School Yard Academy in Berkley. At the lunch break, I had seen the gorgeous weather-- all sunny, breezy, and blue skies-- through a window, but when it came time to go outside, our agenda still had several items left, and our principal kindly opened the activity to a vote: Do we have time for this? she asked us.

I knew that for me, time outside would clear my head and probably make the remaining work we had to do easier, so I raised my hand as a yes, and gleefully headed out when the votes were counted. I recognized that some of my colleagues wished we would just get on with it, so that maybe we could leave a few minutes earlier, but they were good sports once we got out there.

The activity was simple, a gentler, more reflective version of musical chairs that I could easily imagine using with students. We sat in a circle next to the garden and under the shade of a couple Magnolias, and everyone laughed and joked and switched seats whenever the wind blew for us.

And perhaps it's just my opinion, but the rest of our meeting was very productive, and we even got out early.

Making Good Time

We pulled out of my sister's driveway in Atlanta at 9:30 this morning. The day was clear and traffic was light from the start, and we made our way 500 miles up I-85 to Petersburg, VA in about seven and a half hours. From there it was just a couple more hours to home. Our luck held, although the weather did not, and despite torrential rain, we were back in town by 7 PM. A long day, yes, but good conditions, good company, good snacks, and good radio made it a practically pleasant day.

Editorial Integrity

We got an email the other day that a colleague of ours, another teacher at our school, is to be featured in a local magazine. The article is called Lessons Learned: Advice from Veteran Teachers, and it profiles seven educators from our area with some bulleted gems of wisdom from each.

Without exception, every  co-worker I have discussed it with has made a gagging gesture. Let's just say that we know the guy, and we're not convinced that he is necessarily the best representative of our profession. He takes a pretty picture, though.

I think that Alfie Kohn might say that this is what kids feel like when we give awards recognizing a few among many. They are often baffled that anyone might make such a decision and resentful of what they consider to be the undeserved recognition of a peer. Such feelings render the entire exercise meaningless. Rather than motivating everyone to strive for the ideal, we are often undercutting the effort instead. We are also establishing ourselves as arbitrary authority figures who are not to be trusted.

What is the fall out of such a dynamic? Well, I'm canceling my charter subscription to that magazine. Clearly they don't know what they're talking about.

Arnold Palmer

When we were kids, one of our favorite summer time quenchers was the mix of Tetley tea and lemonade concentrate that our mom would stir up in half gallon batches. It must have been thirty years later that I learned the concoction had a real name. Now I often order a half-tea half-lemonade when I am out for a lunch, and when the waitress nods and says, "Arnold Palmer?"  I smile and nod in return. Nothing is quite so refreshing.

Today we were on our way home from the pool when we passed a specialty popsicle cart. The kids, Richard and Annabelle, ordered right up, but I wasn't so sure I wanted anything so sweet. "They have an Arnold Palmer," my sister pointed out, and right then? My resolve started melting.

In the end, I carried away the first Popsicle I have eaten in over 20 years, and let me tell you, friends, the frozen tart lemonade tempered by the icy brisk black tea was absolutely delicious.

Injured Pride

We were on our way home from the High Museum of Art yesterday when I took a little tumble.  There was a curb, an uneven sidewalk, a dog, the sun in my eyes,-- all of it came together to literally trip me up. I was on the sidewalk before I knew it.

Unfortunately, there were several witnesses. In addition to Heidi and Annabelle, at least four other people asked me if I was okay. I brushed off their concern as I dusted myself off. "I'm fine, really," I said. "More embarrassed than anything."

"No worries" the doorman in front of the building said. "We've all been there."

His kind words did not take the sting away, and my skinned knee hurt almost as much as my pride. "I will get you a band aid when we get home," four-year-old Annabelle promised. "It might be cool," she added to comfort me.

I was all patched up a little while later as we waited for Richard's school bus. The minute it pulled up to the stop, he and his friend Jake bounded off. "Hey guys!" we greeted them. "How was school?"

"Good," Richard said.

"Cool band aid!" Jake said.

I felt better already.