Street Talk

I have a boy in my class this year who stands out partially because of his commitment to projecting a tough, street-wise image. He wears flashy clothes and liberally references rappers who are known more for their criminal charges than their music. Oh, he definitely has his sweet side, but I was still a little startled to hear him ask one of his peers for help today in class.

"Will you be a dear and check this for me?"

The other student consented with a nod; he didn't even find the request unusual, so I rolled with it, too.

Hurry in! Limited Time Only

Most people who know me know that I love the movies. Those who know me a bit better, may even know that I have a growing passion for short films. When Oscar time rolls around, I am gleeful because it means that there will be three showcases of the short nominees, an opportunity to see at least 15 movies in the theater that I may not have otherwise.

You can imagine my delight today, then, when a friend on facebook liked the PBS Online Film Festival. As much of a public broadcasting nut as I am, I had totally missed this event. In the words of the sponsors, the Festival, featuring award-winning films with a wide array of styles, perspectives and subject matter, will run from March 4 to March 22 and can be accessed via the PBS website and the PBS YouTube channel. From fact to fiction, the films in PBS Online Film Festival feature surprising stories that only we can tell. 

I watched a couple today (of course I went for the cat-cam first-- that doesn't make me shallow... well, maybe it does), and I was not disappointed. I am, however, a little concerned that there are only five days left!

Brave New World

We've been talking about re-doing the bathroom for sometime, but since it's never at the top of the list, any ideas we might have are very vague. Through a series of events, that project was fast-tracked today, and if all goes as expected, work will begin on Tuesday and be completed on Wednesday.

In the olden days, five or six years ago, when faced with such choices, one might consult magazines or books for inspiration, but this morning, as I began to wrap my head around the decisions I needed to make in the next few days, I turned to... Pinterest. A casual user of the site, what I love most is the pictures, and it was definitely visuals I needed to formulate a vision.

My fellow pinners did not disappoint; I found what I sought: the basis of an idea, cobbled from the many that were posted. And it was then that I more fully understood the value of this site. I considered all the stacks of dog-eared magazines and file folders stuffed with clippings that I have collected over the years and added all the periodicals I've purchased because of a single article; here it could all be stored and accessed at the click of a mouse.

Whoa.

All Poped-out

Even though I was raised Catholic, I confess to being a bit surprised by the intense interest this week in naming a new pope. All the details were widely reported in most media venues, but it was the tone of the coverage that really startled me: even the most veteran journalists seemed star-struck by the medieval pageantry of the event.

I suppose the statistic that there are over a billion Catholics on the planet helps explain this avid interest, but it was actually one of the other 80 percent of our fellow global citizens that really put it in perspective for me. Interviewed in St. Peter's Square, she said, Look... I don't like the English, but I watch all the royal weddings and funerals.

Well, if you put it that way...

Hands Tied

Due to standardized testing, there were no laptops available for our weekly after-school writing club today, but never fear, we equipped each student with a legal pad and a pen or pencil. Both Susan Sontag and Maya Angelou have reported composing works of arguable genius on that humble venue, and so we figured it would do.

There was a bit of sulking: "We have to write the old fashioned way," one student complained to another who was just arriving, "like my parents did-- on paper!"

There was also some of the usual writing avoidance: "Can I use the restroom?" one student wrote in large block letters, holding it up.

Overall, though, it seemed like there were fewer place to hide from a blank page than there are from a blank screen, or perhaps just fewer distractions at hand, and everyone wrote (or drew) something they could share.

I'd call that a success.

Let Me Have a Bite of that Cookie, Marcel

Over the course of a middle school day your average teacher probably has hundreds of interactions with students. Multiply that by weeks and years and it becomes pretty clear that we must forget ten times the events we remember.

The older you get, it seems like the worse it gets. This morning when I walked in the building, the first student I saw asked me if I had seen her alphabiography from the night before. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "I haven't had a chance, yet."

"It's S," she told me, "for you!"

"Oh! I can't wait," I replied, rubbing my hands together.

But of course, I forgot. Right before she was to enter my class, I dashed to the computer and pulled up her writing. The piece was about an incident that happened in class a couple of days ago, which, not surprisingly, I had totally forgotten about.

On that day, this particular student had not followed part of the directions on an assignment. When she brought it to me to ask a question, she prefaced her inquiry with, "Don't scream at me! I know I didn't do this right!"

"Scream at you?" I asked, "When do I ever scream at anyone?"

She shrugged and nodded, conceding my point.

"I! Never! Scream!" I shouted. "Right?"

She jumped and then laughed. The rest of the class looked over and then continued working. It was just another silly day in English.

Here's how she concluded her piece: Good memories that I will never forget :)

I wish I could say the same.

Strings Attached

Amari's going to be eight next week and so she invited me to her party. The daughter of a former student and the granddaughter of a colleague, I've known her all her life, and she is practically family. '"Sure, I'll come!" I told her. "That will be fun!"

The next day, she asked if I would read a book to the kids at the party. "Yes!" I answered, "That will be great."

The next day, she told me the theme of the party was arts and crafts. "We want you to make those little animals out of pipe cleaners and teach everybody to draw Ninja Turtles."

"What happened to the book?" I asked.

"That, too." She waved her hand across her chest.

My part in the celebration was growing, but it was still doable."Okay," I agreed.

The next day she came by to check that I had learned how to draw the turtles. I hadn't realized how tight my deadline was, but I searched up a quick model on the internet and sketched an angular head with a mask that passed her inspection.

In an effort to deflect any more unannounced responsibilities, I asked her a few questions about the other party details. "Is your mom going to make cupcakes?"

"Yes," she replied, "and the whole party crew is going to decorate them."

"Who's the party crew?" I wondered aloud.

"You..." she started, and my eyes grew wide. Visions of myself rising before dawn to begin work on this obviously very involved event made me catch my breath. "... and me, and Nana, and Heidi, and everyone else who comes."

"Oh! So, it's decorate your own cupcakes?" I said, relieved. "Cool!"