Ahead of Her Time

 This morning as I blended up Heidi's breakfast smoothie, I was momentarily transported forty years back in time to another blender in another kitchen, and it reminded me that my mother was always somewhat of a visionary. Back then, one of our breakfast staples was an invention of hers we called Goody Milk. Decades before the smoothie became the go-to on the run power meal, my mom was blitzing up milk, fruit, ice cubes, and a raw egg to give us a quick and energizing start to our day. She also baked breakfast cookies complete with oatmeal, dried fruit, and bacon.

But that's not all. Before we headed off to school, my mother corralled me and my friends for a ten minute work-out in our living room. Despite our teenaged groaning she led us in stretches, leg lifts, abs, and lunges every morning. Today, at 73, my mother continues to be a model of health and fitness. She exercises regularly and eats a sensible diet.

Imagine a road of wellness that stretches from Jane Fonda to Michelle Obama-- over the years, millions of people have jumped on the fitness bandwagon as it has passed by, modifying their habits and their diets to live a healthier life.

But my mom? She didn't have to jump on; she was already driving it.

Be Careful What You Wish For

I hate to be a knee-jerk complainer, so when I found out there would be an adult education class meeting in my room every day at 4:30, I tried to accept it as the Universe's way of telling me that I spend too much time at school. I'll go to the garden or the gym, I thought. Who knows? This could be life-altering!

It wasn't too many days before I knew it would be almost impossible to get all my work done if I was forced to pack up and leave by that time, and the only alteration it would have on my life was in my job performance. With a sigh, I resolved to contact my administrator.

Fortunately, she couldn't have been more cooperative (thanks Ellen!), and today I had access to my room until 6:45. I gleefully crossed several items off off of my to-do list, and it was quarter to six before I knew it. All of a sudden the prospect of going home to do my evening chores and cook dinner seemed impossibly exhausting. I was out of gas and running on fumes. Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Will you need us to move the later class?" the building attendant politely asked.

"No thank you," I replied, then added, "Please, shoot me if I'm still here by then."

In MY School...

Let this post be the first of a series.

Almost every serious teacher fantasizes about the ideal school-- so much so that we often either end a rant and start a wistful conversation with Well, when I have MY school...

In 19 years I've had my fair share of such conversations, but one constant has always been that anyone who is going to require teachers to do something should themselves be an active teacher. Theory and practice diverge every day in the classroom, and I do not mean that as an excuse. I truly believe that our job is more than just a job and to understand it, you have to do it.

So much of what we have been tasked with lately is hoop-jumping and box-checking in the name of accountability, and while some ineffective teachers may be ferreted out, the rest of our students will be penalized, because the time we spend proving that we are spending our time well is time we are not spending on them.

Eleven Years Later

This morning I thought about how eerie it was that this perfectly clear, cool, and blue-sky Tuesday so resembled the one 11 years ago. I've told my 9-11 story many times-- how our school is just a mile from the Pentagon and colleagues actually saw the plane as it descended, how my classes were in the computer lab and the emergency announcement was made at passing time so that when we returned to our room we were confused to find it locked, how I knocked on a colleague's door and she wouldn't answer at first because we were in lock down, how my students and I sat obediently in the dark without having any idea why, how an explosion shook our building so violently that our principal used the PA system to warn us all to take cover, and how I decided it was better to sit up in a chair and read to my students than to hide under the tables with them-- we were all scared, but I wanted them to know that someone was in charge.

This afternoon I checked my email at school and was delighted to find a message from a former student. Here's what she wrote:

Given where I currently work (right by your school) and what today’s date is, I’m reminded of exactly where I was 11 years ago today. I was in your classroom along with the other students, completely unaware of what was going. I remember all of us were worried because somehow we were hearing rumors ( I say somehow because in '01, none of us had iPhones or Blackberrys), and I also recall the announcements telling us to take cover until we eventually were taken to the gym. But, what I remember most is how you tried to keep us calm by simply reading aloud to us in the darkness of our classroom, sitting under our tables. I remember that and as an adult now I can’t even imagine how stressful a situation that must have been for you, but even so, your priority was to make sure we all stayed calm. I hope the students you’re teaching today realize the significance of what today is, and know that about a decade ago the kids sitting in their seats were having a very different type of school day that would change them forever.

It was an unforgettable day, but even though I am in the same classroom doing the same job, many of the students I teach now were not even born then. They honor this day with us as they have been taught to do, but not from any sense of personal loss.

They remind us all that life goes on, and that is why I teach.

The Rabbit Test

When I was a kid, a popular punch line on some of the silly sitcom re-runs we loved to watch was, "The rabbit died." Upon hearing the sentence, the studio audience would roar with laughter at the recognition that somewhere a pregnancy test was administered, and the resulting death of the lab rabbit meant that the woman was expecting... or not. Rabbits die under other circumstances sometimes, and that was the joke.

Today you can pee on a stick and get the same diagnostic results, and I'm sure rabbits everywhere are super-relieved, but back then I never gave those rabbits who died a second thought-- they may as well have been paper strips thrown in the trash once they had served their purpose.

Over the past week, Heidi has been caring for our neighbor's pet rabbit. A rescue bunny, Oliver had a room of his own, and, despite his understandably ornery disposition, was well-loved. Yesterday when she went to check on him, Heidi found Oliver lying still in his crate, a pet-sitter's nightmare and so not funny.

I guess it's different when you know the rabbit.

Two Day Weekends

Who thought that was a good idea?

Turn, Turn, Turn

Even though it was warm and muggy this morning when I took the dog out, the light breeze must have suggested a change to me. I couldn't feel it, but when we got back the muffins I baked were pumpkin instead of peach, and tonight we have mashed potatoes for dinner where last night there was ratatouille.

Sure enough, there was an hour of severe weather this afternoon, and tomorrow it is predicted to be in the 70s.

Now that is change I can embrace.