Live From School...

I have written before about our new grade book where anything we put in there is instantly visible to parents. As with so much new technology (ahem, Obamacare) there was a predictable implementation curve. On conference day volunteers sat in a room just down the hall from mine ready to show parents how to access this new tool, and anecdotally, many of the folks I met with confessed and complained to having problems with accessing their children's grades.

I think that all that static might be on the decline now, though, for today when I posted the results of my students' weekly word study quiz it was only a matter of moments before my email pinged. I see L. bombed today's quiz... the message started.

Sabbath Day

When I was a child, Sundays were devoted to mass and football. For years, both were mysterious rituals to me, full of singing and sighing and chanting and cheering. I probably developed an understanding of the church before I grasped the rules of football, but there was a time in my life when I was an enthusiastic devotee of both.

That time is not this, and I have written here before about how much I enjoy taking advantage of the off times created by other people in this congested area and their Sunday traditions. Runing errands in the morning or at game time is a snap around here. Church is another post altogether.

The last 3 Sundays, though? Our houseguest has tuned in to her beloved hometown team, and I confess I have been drawn back into the fold. Just today I spent my afternoon in the rocking chair eating cheese and crackers, chips and dip, and rooting for one team to fail so that another might have an advantage, never mind their hateful name.

Could mass be far behind?

Window

This year our summer was so temperate that, no matter the weather outside, I was able to keep the small window over the sink in my kitchen open. Facing southeast, it is sheltered by the front porch roof, and so whatever fresh air it allowed was cooled by that shade. In July and August, I loved it most in the early morning when the cool dewy dampness greeted me as I filled the kettle for coffee, although the warm and fragrant evening air was always a nice balance to the necessary chill of our a/c.

That window has stayed open for months now, a trusty envoy to the world outside, and it wasn't until I stumbled down to a chilly 50 degrees this morning that I thought perhaps I should move that pile of green tomatoes possibly ripening on the sill and push it shut. Oh, I confess that I shivered a bit as tepid water steamed in the sink, but it took no more than a lungful of that fall air, pure and yes, cold, to convince me that this day would warm.

Key Concepts

Credibility: difficult to establish when you use a PowerPoint presentation full of typos and other mistakes with a roomful of teachers. 

Oregon?

Oh, I don't take many online quizzes, but this one caught my interest:

What state should you live in?

Too bad Paris or Switzerland aren't states. I'm sure I would belong there.

Funeral for the General

Taps can choke you up anytime, but Taps played in a windswept cemetery as a single autumn leaf floats from the rusty trees above the bugler, the nation's capital stark white in the distance against an unbearably blue sky?

And don't even get me started on the bagpipes playing Danny Boy.

Take the Girl Outta Jersey

A colleague attended a wedding in Philly over the weekend, and she told us all about it at lumch today. The bride and groom rented out the whole Franklin Institute for the reception, and guests had the run of the place, including endless trips through the giant heart. One of the bride's uncles was a mummer, so there was some parading and strumming. At the end of the evening, any guests who stuck it out to the end got cheese steaks, hot pretzels, and of course dome wooded ice.

Idn't that bee-yoo-duh-falll!?