Puddle Jumping

It was a stormy day here today. The remnants of Tropical Storm Andrea pushed up the eastern seaboard spreading gray skies and warm wind and rain. In between classes and meetings I watched the weather through my window: birds beat through sheets of rain to land on swaying targets of bent branches. By the time I left the building, the worst of it was over-- the unrelenting flat iron sky had given way to huge leaden clouds and there was little more than a spatter falling. On my way home, though, I witnessed the aftermath of two head-on collisions, and the streets were still treacherous, rainbow-slick in the center and deep puddles in the gutters. Stopped at a light, a bright movement caught my eye and I turned to see red boots, bare legs, and a silver splash as a little boy of perhaps six made the best of this dreary day.

Consultation

A parent scheduled a meeting with me today to discuss her daughter's reading progress. Before we sat down, I reviewed all the test scores we had and considered them in terms of Piaget's stages of development and the Institute of Reading Development's stages, too. I compared that information to my own observations of this student since September, both academic and social.

All the data fit together to create a profile of that particular student which answered her mom's questions, and after the meeting I actually felt like the professional I am-- someone with expertise in her field called upon to provide insight and guidance.

Opposite Extremes

Our students took one of their state standardized tests today. In a group of 21, one kid finished all 60 questions in 20 minutes without using his scrap paper once, submitted his online work without permission, and then laid his head on the desk and went to sleep, and one kid took an hour on question number one.

Can we agree that neither of these strategies represents a healthy approach to demonstrating learning?

Certificates of Achievement

The counselors at our school cycle through with the kids, so we sixth grade teachers only get to work with each counselor every three years. This year we've had the most experienced of the three, and also someone who happens to be a personal friend. I always like working with her, because I know she does a great job.

This is the fourth time around for the two of us, and today we did an activity that we came up with six years ago. Because students are forever getting (or not getting) certificates of achievement in this or that area that they may or may not appreciate, today we let the kids give out the awards. Students can have as many blank certificates as they'd like to fill out in recognition of some accomplishment of one of their peers.

We met with 100 kids today, but guess how many certificates we gave out in the awards ceremonies at the end of each class?

Over 500.

Usually whenever papers are distributed in school there are a few left behind in the classroom or the hallways. Today?

Not one.

How Sweet the Sound

Today was prize day in my class. As a small token and incentive, I provide little gadgets, school supplies, or candy, and then any student who successfully completes the monthly writing challenge gets to sign up for a prize. It's fun, but I always make them repeat our mantra: "The real prize is having written so much."

Today one of the rewards was a little compass carabiner, and Grace seemed delighted when she won it. "Did you know I'm always getting lost?" she asked. "This is really going to help."

I couldn't resist. "That's amazing, Grace. You once were lost, but now you're found!"

Post PostHunt Post

My nephew and I tackled a yearly challenge today. We went downtown for the sixth annual Washington Post PostHunt. Treat was 12 when we did the very first hunt together, and over time he's gotten even smarter, even if he is a little ironic at times. Since he's going to college this fall, I was glad to have the chance to continue our tradition.

When I picked him up, I asked Treat what his goal for the day was. "I want to win, of course," he laughed.

"Me, too," I answered, "but I'll be happy if we correctly solve all five of the puzzles."

"I guess we've never actually done that, have we?" he replied. "Okay. Let's do that."

It was a really good day-- We stopped at my favorite sandwich place to grab lunch on the way, and the hot humid weather we have had this week gave way to a warm, breezy overcast day, and although there were a few sprinkles, the violent storms that are predicted for our area held off.

This year the hunt turned out to be pretty easy-- we met my goal and solved all five of the first round puzzles with an hour to go, and so we relaxed on a bench in the courtyard of the Reagan building trying to decipher what the clues we had found might mean in the second stage of the game.

When we returned to the main stage to hear the final hint, we were actually in it for a minute; we knew what the next step was supposed to be and completed it before being totally lost. Even so, when we admitted defeat and called it for the year, neither of us cared. We left for home satisfied after a fun day.

"Let's do this again next year," Treat said as he climbed out of the car, with only a trace of irony in his voice.

"Oh, we will," I told him. "We will."

First Responders

Since Heidi has been vegan, I've tried a few, shall we say, questionable, recipes. Well, I guess they are only really questionable in the sense that I would never have considered them before there was a vegan to feed around here.

Oh, sure, a few have been BINGO!s, and those have become some of our staple meals, but that mushroom paprikash was not one of them, neither was the mac and "cheez" (okay, the quotation marks should have been a clue), and those baked donuts were a definite never again.

Some cooks have a rule to strictly adhere to the recipe when at first they try it, and having worked in a commercial kitchen, I know where they're coming from. Most professionals test and tweak a dish as many times as they need to before it makes their menu, but where does that leave the home cook?

When Heidi was a little girl, her grandmother always had the same advice for anyone who didn't like their food: Put a little butter and salt on it and it'll be fine. These days we have a twist on her wisdom. We add tomato sauce and toss a salad if we're unsure.

Tonight I'm cooking a version of Cajun dirty rice that includes eggplant. The recipe seemed pretty good, but when I tasted it as I went along, I became a bit concerned. It's in the oven as I type, and we'll see how it turns out, but you can bet the sauce and salad are standing by.