Measuring Up

This is what bureaucracy looks like:

Every year we plan a sixth grade picnic for the first Friday we are back in school. In the interest of building a sense of community and engagement, it's a chance for the new kids in the school to celebrate making it through their first week of middle school and to connect and reconnect with their peers.

This year we have been asked to phrase all of our team business in the form of objectives and measurable outcomes... so what about the picnic? How does one compute the value of such an event? Do we administer a survey? Collect exit cards at the end? Have the students complete a reflection?

Would any of those make the picnic better, or would they simply justify it to any who cared?

Pulling the Old Tom Sawyer

For the past few years, Heidi's dad, Gary, has expressed an interest in learning how to can tomatoes. As a retiree, he was thinking he had the time and resources, not to mention the love of tomatoes, to adopt such a hobby.

Yesterday he got the chance to see how he likes it. The four of us went to the farmers market and bought a thirty pound box of tomatoes. Then, in as efficient an assembly line as we could organize in our little kitchen, we peeled, chopped, and canned twelve quarts of tomatoes. It took no longer than an hour and a half, including the time we sat around watching TV while the full jars were boiling away in the processing pots.

When it was all cleaned up, I turned to Gary. "Are you going to go home and do some more?" I asked him.

"What for? I got six quarts right here!"

New Kids

We went out for pizza tonight at a restaurant near us that only opened on Wednesday. It was a larger, fancier branch of a place that we like, and we were excited to try it. Our meal was fine, but it was amazing how easy it was to tell that this was only the fifth night of service. Our waiter was earnest and willing, but also unsure about some of the details, like the difference between Pinot noir and "that other thing" we ordered. My pizza came to the table uncut, and then was returned to the table without a serving utensil.

Even so, there was something about the concentration and engagement in the staff that I really liked-- they were young and enthusiastic and most importantly, they wanted to learn. As we left our rather generous tip, ("Are you sure you don't want change?" the waiter asked), I knew that if my students this year have half of that attitude, we are going to have a great time.

Another Misstep

It's been a summer of accidents and mishaps.

In addition to burning dinner last night, and in keeping with skinning my knee a couple of weeks ago, yesterday I stepped on a bee in my bare feet and was stung. That has not happened to me in over 40 years, and to be honest, it was much more painful than I ever remember it. For a moment I couldn't bear weight on my foot.

But the worst part was seeing the bee also in agony, writhing in the clover, and knowing that she would die because of my carelessness.

Kitchen Confidential

Long ago when I was a professional cook, I was present at a few food mishaps. The worst was the wedding for 300 when we ran out of stuffed chicken breasts. Fortunately, by the time we discovered the shortage, they were already clearing the first tables served. Let's just say that the last several guests enjoyed chicken medallions. A little extra sauce on top and no one knew any difference.

Then there was the family reunion for 40 who wanted whole lobsters cooked on their ocean front deck. We learned the hard way that those propane- fired pots you can rent do not get hot enough to boil much of anything, and certainly not a dozen two-pound hard shells. We provided a lot of butter lemon and beer and hoped it wouldn't be too bad. It was.

Twenty-five years and fifteen trips to Maine later, I could have solved that one pretty easily. Cooking the lobsters in advance would not be wrong, but a big drift wood fire and pots filled with ocean water and seaweed would have been ideal. Too bad, I can't have a do-over.

Since I left the profession, I've had my share of stressful preps and slightly delayed dinners, but I have to say I feel pretty confident in the kitchen; often it's the place I unwind after a long day. Grill, fry, chop, rinse, sauté? Not usually a problem for me. That must be why I was at somewhat of a loss this evening when dinner was 10 minutes from the table and I discovered that I had charred the ribeyes beyond edibility. Seriously-- they were ruined. It wouldn't have been a big deal except Heidi's parents were here. I considered just fessing up, but without the meat, there wasn't enough to eat.

I whipped a frozen piece of skirt steak and a dozen shrimp from the freezer, thawed them and tossed them on the grill. Everything else was on hold-- the corn in the pot, the potatoes in the oven, the mushrooms on the stove, the sliced tomatoes in the fridge-- as I quickly, but carefully, cooked the main.

It was not my finest result, but it was the best I could do, and everyone seemed to like it just fine.

What Do You Call a Teacher Without a Class?

Tonight was that night when all the new sixth graders are invited to visit our middle school to check the place out and meet their teachers before they start on Tuesday. The event is a good way to address any anxiety kids or their parents might have about transitioning to a new school.

As inconvenient as it seems for teachers to come back at night right in the middle of our planning and preparation week, every year I enjoy the evening. Seeing the kids and meeting their families is always really fun.  I guess it helps me work out my anxiety about starting a new school year, too.

All Meetinged Out

This is the beginning of my twentieth year of teaching, and I can say with certainty that I have never had quite so many meetings. The pre-service week is set aside as a time for teachers to plan and prepare, but I have quite a bit of both yet to do in order to be ready for the opening of school next Tuesday.

In fact, it was only today around 3 PM that I finally took the paper off the front of my bookcases. As I tore through the pristine white butcher paper, corners still sharp and edges still neat, I thought back to the last day of the school year when I wrapped the shelves up for summer, and it hardly seemed like nine and half weeks had passed.

Maybe tomorrow I'll re-alphabetize my classroom library and perhaps even put up a few posters, but that would be in between leading a team meeting, touching base with new staff, planning the Tolerance Club activities for September, coordinating with the other sixth grade team leaders, and stategizing with the counselor about yet another several schedule changes. In any event, I will definitely call my homeroom students to welcome them to our school and be present at an open house from 7-8 tomorrow night.

I'd like to think I'll get a little class preparation done, but that may have to wait until after the staff meeting on Friday Morning.