Writing Sample

My students completed their end-of-the-year writing sample today. The prompt was a familiar one for me: Your school has some extra money. They could spend it on sports equipment, computers, the cafeteria, or something else. What do you think the money should be used for?

My philosophy has always been that if I teach my students to be good writers, they will be able to write good essays, but over the years, I've read a lot of essays about sports equipment, computers, and cafeteria food. I've also read many about game rooms, student lounges, and pools. The majority of them have been well-written, if a little dry. I guess there's something about the format that students find uninspiring.

Even so, I have also read lots of terrific pieces too. Probably the best one ever was a very convincing argument in favor of zombie-proofing our building; it had me in stitches, no pun intended. I've also read essays on why we need more Kleenex, a proposal to repaint our building brick-by-brick, and even a tongue-in-cheek proposition to replace all the teachers with robots.

Today, however, there were two writing pieces that can be nothing else than heartbreaking signs of the times. One student wrote about how we should invest all our money in enhancing the security of our building. His opening line? "We've all heard about the tragedy at Newtown," and his closing was, "In a peaceful world we wouldn't need these things, but now we do."

The other student wrote a fanciful essay all about constructing a huge shelter under the gym where all of us could go in case of any natural disaster or human threats. We would have bunk beds, walkie talkies, classrooms, and food to last us at least two years.

Maybe a student game room wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Work in Progress

Sometimes the administration requires kids to attend Tolerance Club. It's not so much a punishment as an opportunity to raise their awareness... that's how we spin it, anyway.

Today one such boy attended our meeting. As our activity, we were showing the students the "Implicit Association Test." Housed at Harvard,  

"The Implicit Association Test (IAT) measures attitudes and beliefs that people may be unwilling or unable to report. The IAT may be especially interesting if it shows that you have an implicit attitude that you did not know about. For example, you may believe that women and men should be equally associated with science, but your automatic associations could show that you (like many others) associate men with science more than you associate women with science"

We like to say it reveals a bias for rather than a bias against, but it usually shows some sort of bias. Some of the tests available now are age, race, disability, sexuality, and weight. So the kid who was required to attend the meeting is clicking through and he gets to the end where his results are revealed. "I don't know what this means," he calls out, waving one of the adults over.

She looked at the screen. "Hmmm... that means that you have a bias toward people who are thin over people who are heavy."

"Well, duh!" he answered.

What to Let Go

It's a cliche to say so, but family events are always a combination of joy and stress. My immediate family had a particularly wonderful weekend this one past; we were all together, and we enjoyed each others company every second we could wring from the two days we spent.

But there were other relatives who could not say the same. "I just have to cut her off," both women said separately about the other, her mother, her daughter. 

"There comes a time after so many years when you just can't take another disappointment," said one.

The other echoed her words but substituted "insult" for "disappointment."

And it has been many years, over 25. After all that time, or perhaps because of it, they are both so locked in their anger and pain that anyone near them can see that it would be a blessing if they actually could let them go. Unfortunately, it's equally clear that they haven't, for while they have cut each other out of their lives, refusing to interact despite being a few feet apart, the anger and pain remain.

As Buddha said, Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.

So Far Yet So Close

I was surprised when I heard that one of the bride's closest cousins would not be at the wedding because she was doing a semester abroad in Spain. Her parents, sisters, and brother seemed a little disappointed to not have her there at the rehearsal dinner last night, even as they explained to all who asked what a great opportunity it was and what as fabulous time she was having. Today at the ceremony I was two rows back from the family. As her brother held up his smart phone throughout the proceedings, I assumed he was making a video recording. That is until he swung his arm forward to catch the action at the front of the chapel. As the couple exchanged their vows, I saw the face of a young woman watching intently from his screen. It was, of course, his sister joining the festivities via Skype. 

Suite Life

My whole family is in Charlottesville for a wedding  this weekend. At the last minute, we decided to upgrade our room to a suite so that my cousin could stay with us and my mom. What a great idea! We've all been hanging out in the living room, and then we bought a couple bottles of wine and some fancy snacks. There's even a two-burner stove, and believe me, friends, if we were just staying one extra day, I'd be throwing a dinner party!

TAW

It's teacher appreciation week and this year my students have been very thoughtful. On Monday I got flowers and candy; yesterday one nice girl baked cookies, and today someone added to my flower arrangement, another presented me with a gift card, and then I got what will probably be a once-in-a-career gift. A cheese souffle.

Seriously.

Now that's appreciation.

Pizza Culpa

"Where's our pizza?" I growled over my stomach. "I'm starving!"

So hungry in fact was I that I picked up the phone without hesitation and dialed. (Those who know me will immediately recognize the significance of this gesture.) When a polite voice answered, I did my best to curb my crankiness. "I placed an online delivery order an hour and a half ago and I was just wondering where it was," I whined [slightly, very slightly].

She took my name. "We have that as an online pick-up order," she informed me sympathetically, and I realized with horror that the mistake was all mine. But before I could even let out the gigantic sigh that filled my lungs all the way down to my diaphragm she added, "Would you like us to remake it and deliver it as soon as possible?"

"That would be great," I whimpered [slightly, very slightly].

Please hurry up pizza.