We took two field trips this week, and despite the fact that I planned the excursions and had taken the same trips n years past, I still came away with a lot of new knowledge and understanding. For example, just today I learned why some trees keep their dead leaves through the winter, that the box elder's branches can perform photosynthesis, how snakes poop, why the black marbled salamander breeds in early winter instead of spring, and that most birds dump a load before flight (they must feel much lighter!).
What a shame that field trips are so often the first casualties of the push for increased student achievement as measured by standardized tests.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
The Classics
In writing club today a student asked me to read the first couple of paragraphs of the story he is writing. He has an inviting writing voice, and whatever he starts, I usually want to read more. The problem is, he never finishes anything.
To be honest? I can totally relate; I'm not a big finisher either. And today, I made it even harder for him to continue. His character was in the car being driven away from his old home to his new with the radio playing. The three songs our young author mentioned in the segment were Losing my Religion, Midnight Train to Georgia, and Angie Baby.
"Interesting choice of music," I noted.
"I was listening to the oldies as I wrote," he said. My raised eyebrows encouraged him to edit. "I mean, the classics," he continued.
"Do you even know these songs?" I asked. "Angie Baby? Helen Reddy?"
"A-an-gie baby, you're a spe-eh-cial lady," he sang.
"Midnight Train?" I said.
"I love that one," he told me.
"Can you sing it with only the Pips' parts?" I asked him. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Try it! It's really hard," I said. "You think you know the song until you sing it like that." Fortunately, Mary had it on her phone, and I was able to demonstrate the challenge.
On the other hand, he wrote not another word before the bell.
To be honest? I can totally relate; I'm not a big finisher either. And today, I made it even harder for him to continue. His character was in the car being driven away from his old home to his new with the radio playing. The three songs our young author mentioned in the segment were Losing my Religion, Midnight Train to Georgia, and Angie Baby.
"Interesting choice of music," I noted.
"I was listening to the oldies as I wrote," he said. My raised eyebrows encouraged him to edit. "I mean, the classics," he continued.
"Do you even know these songs?" I asked. "Angie Baby? Helen Reddy?"
"A-an-gie baby, you're a spe-eh-cial lady," he sang.
"Midnight Train?" I said.
"I love that one," he told me.
"Can you sing it with only the Pips' parts?" I asked him. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Try it! It's really hard," I said. "You think you know the song until you sing it like that." Fortunately, Mary had it on her phone, and I was able to demonstrate the challenge.
On the other hand, he wrote not another word before the bell.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Winter Count
Living so close to our nation's capital provides many opportunities for great field trips, and so we took our students to the National Museum of the American Indian today. Part of the program included a docent-led tour, and our guide pulled out a touch-cart of buffalo artifacts. It was an interesting experience-- she passed around jerky, a horn bowl, a piece of shearling, a bone tool, a bladder water bottle, and a rawhide string bag.
But, the coolest artifact was at the end. It was an authentic 200-year winter calendar (or "winter count") drawn in a spiral on the leather side of a young buffalo hide. Her explanation as to what it was began with a question. "So, how do you learn history at your school?"
I can only imagine what she was hoping to hear, given the beautiful record before us.
"Worksheets," one student answered, and there were nods of agreement all around.
But, the coolest artifact was at the end. It was an authentic 200-year winter calendar (or "winter count") drawn in a spiral on the leather side of a young buffalo hide. Her explanation as to what it was began with a question. "So, how do you learn history at your school?"
I can only imagine what she was hoping to hear, given the beautiful record before us.
"Worksheets," one student answered, and there were nods of agreement all around.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Night Watch
I was awakened around 2 AM last night by an eerie whistling coming from outside. At first it was a confusing part of my dream, some Pi-like tiger training maybe, but it went on too long and soon I was aware of the shadow of the window frame that the streetlight casts on the ceiling of the bedroom.
Isabel heard it too. She sat on the landing with her nose poked through the curtains burfing at the night. I got up and went to see if there was anything visible out the window. Kneeling down, I put my arm around my dog. "I hear it, too," I whispered and peered out into the darkness.
If she could have, she would have said, "You got this? Oh, good." As it was, she relaxed, slipped from my side and back into the bedroom, lay down on the floor, and was immediately snoring.
There was nothing to be seen and the noise stopped soon after, so I too returned to bed, but I lay awake for some time.
Isabel heard it too. She sat on the landing with her nose poked through the curtains burfing at the night. I got up and went to see if there was anything visible out the window. Kneeling down, I put my arm around my dog. "I hear it, too," I whispered and peered out into the darkness.
If she could have, she would have said, "You got this? Oh, good." As it was, she relaxed, slipped from my side and back into the bedroom, lay down on the floor, and was immediately snoring.
There was nothing to be seen and the noise stopped soon after, so I too returned to bed, but I lay awake for some time.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Exchange Rate
Sometimes, if I'm tempted by a high-calorie snack or treat, I'll calculate how long on the treadmill it would take to burn it off. With that perspective, it's usually easier to pass up.
Today we saw the Oscar-nominated documentary shorts, and like every year, these five 40-minute films served up a lot of food for thought, as well as close to three sedentary hours on my butt. Still I'm satisfied that they exercised my mind and heart if not my body and heart.
I liked them all, but the one I find my thoughts returning to is Redemption, the story of New York City canners-- a sub-culture of people who comb through trash and recycling to find cans and bottles to redeem. Some simply supplement their income by canning, but most of the people in the movie made their living this way, and hard lives they were.
Early in the film, Walter, a homeless Vietnam vet, drove the enterprise home for me when he started reeling off the cost of things in cans. A Starbucks drip coffee? 50 cans. A box of handmade chocolates? 500 cans.
Such a calibration was momentarily staggering to me, and I could not stop myself from converting my own recent expenditures. The water in the cup holder next to me: 75 cans, downtown parking: 200 cans, that salad at lunch: 160 cans. The sour smell of every redemption center I've ever visited filled my nose, and all of a sudden "just a nickel" seemed like so much more.
Today we saw the Oscar-nominated documentary shorts, and like every year, these five 40-minute films served up a lot of food for thought, as well as close to three sedentary hours on my butt. Still I'm satisfied that they exercised my mind and heart if not my body and heart.
I liked them all, but the one I find my thoughts returning to is Redemption, the story of New York City canners-- a sub-culture of people who comb through trash and recycling to find cans and bottles to redeem. Some simply supplement their income by canning, but most of the people in the movie made their living this way, and hard lives they were.
Early in the film, Walter, a homeless Vietnam vet, drove the enterprise home for me when he started reeling off the cost of things in cans. A Starbucks drip coffee? 50 cans. A box of handmade chocolates? 500 cans.
Such a calibration was momentarily staggering to me, and I could not stop myself from converting my own recent expenditures. The water in the cup holder next to me: 75 cans, downtown parking: 200 cans, that salad at lunch: 160 cans. The sour smell of every redemption center I've ever visited filled my nose, and all of a sudden "just a nickel" seemed like so much more.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Daughter of Adam
Seeing Life of Pi today really rounded out our Oscar quest. After we go to the documentary shorts tomorrow, there will only be a handful of nominees we haven't seen... not that such an accomplish will make any difference in our annual pool.
As beautiful as it was, Ang Lee's film was a bit of a trial, though. We have been putting it off mainly because the animals are in a lot of peril, and so Heidi flat out refused to see it. (She's still a little bit mad that I made us go.)
I suppose you could include the character of Pi in that group of endangered creatures, I certainly did as I wept throughout the movie for his losses. But there is something undeniably different about the evil we inflict on each other and that we direct toward animals, although I don't know why that is. Just the other day, I finished the Newbury book for this year, The One and Only Ivan. I started it last summer, but could not continue-- the tale of the captive gorilla and his friends, two elephants and a stray dog, broke my heart on almost every page.
Why do we tell sad stories, anyway? When I told my students that I had to set aside Ivan because it was way too emotional for me to be reading at school, at least five kids asked to borrow it when I was through.
Their young hearts must be much more elastic than mine.
As beautiful as it was, Ang Lee's film was a bit of a trial, though. We have been putting it off mainly because the animals are in a lot of peril, and so Heidi flat out refused to see it. (She's still a little bit mad that I made us go.)
I suppose you could include the character of Pi in that group of endangered creatures, I certainly did as I wept throughout the movie for his losses. But there is something undeniably different about the evil we inflict on each other and that we direct toward animals, although I don't know why that is. Just the other day, I finished the Newbury book for this year, The One and Only Ivan. I started it last summer, but could not continue-- the tale of the captive gorilla and his friends, two elephants and a stray dog, broke my heart on almost every page.
Why do we tell sad stories, anyway? When I told my students that I had to set aside Ivan because it was way too emotional for me to be reading at school, at least five kids asked to borrow it when I was through.
Their young hearts must be much more elastic than mine.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Unchained
After putting it off for awhile, we finally saw Quentin Tarantino's Oscar-nominated film Django Unchained today, and it was just as expected: violent, gory, loooong, and yet somehow entertaining. As always, Tarantino makes me re-think movie violence... how can I like a film with so much gore?
Well, Christophe Waltz certainly makes it easier. I can't think of an actor who is more able to humanize a killer. In any of the films of his I've seen, despite their egregious actions, his characters are much less despicable and even honorable, because they have a clear ethical code and they work within it.
Something to think about.
Well, Christophe Waltz certainly makes it easier. I can't think of an actor who is more able to humanize a killer. In any of the films of his I've seen, despite their egregious actions, his characters are much less despicable and even honorable, because they have a clear ethical code and they work within it.
Something to think about.
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