A Kindness of Strangers

Pride of lions, school of fish, murder of crows-- what can we call a group of people?

We were rushing this evening to get our weekend errands done; snow and ice are predicted for tomorrow, and we had spent the day at a workshop at school. It was nearly dark when I slipped the car into a space on the far aisle of the parking lot at Target.

Our tree was at home falling in the stand, and I reckoned I could consolidate grocery and sundry into a single stop. The air was cold, but the good kind of December cold that kind of smells like smoke and wakes you up like a friendly little clap on the cheeks, and a pretty yellow crescent moon lounged in the eastern sky, and so our spirits were high, a spring in our steps even at the end of this long day.

A young woman pushing a cart with a little girl in the toddler seat approached us. She, too, seemed happy that her shopping was through and we exchanged smiles with her. A few paces later, she called to us. "You should have these," she said, thrusting a couple of slips of high gloss paper into my hand. We thanked her and continued on our way, and when we got inside we saw that they were coupons for 20% off everything we bought today.

At the end of our visit, it rang up to a 25 dollar savings, and we still had one coupon left. "Give me that," Heidi said, and went off to find someone to share it with.

Hunting and Gathering

A long time ago, when I was younger and had much less stuff, I used to like shopping a lot more than I do now. In those days, it was almost like a sport, and I could spend hours prowling the mall, and a visit to the big warehouse store near us to scope out the possibilities was at least a biweekly event. Nobody there ever asks you if you found everything you needed, because it's understood that that's your job.

But times have changed for me and I couldn't tell you the last time I was at the mall, much less Costco (which I still insist on calling Price Club). Well, I couldn't tell you before today, because through a series of events, I left school early this afternoon. I was in my car by 1 PM, and on my way home I did stop at Costco.

Maybe our school canned food drive was on my mind (for the first time ever, no students in my homeroom have contributed a single food item), or maybe I was thinking that we needed snacks for both Tolerance Club and Writing Club, or maybe it was some sort of phantom holiday habit, but whatever it was, I suddenly believed it would be a great idea to go there.

There had been some changes since my last visit. If possible, I think the carts are even larger, and there were some tall refrigerated units near the back that were kind of new. Otherwise, the place seemed the same, but that is not why I went there. Like in the old days, I went to see what new quarry awaited this consumer. What huge things could I track down and fill my huge cart with to wait in that huge line and pay a relatively huge amount of money for, given the bounty of bargains I usually bag?

And, in the hour I was there, I walked every aisle and looked at hundreds of items. I almost bought many of them, too, but in the end I left behind the fleece pajamas, the fold-flat hand truck, all the boxed sets of books my students would borrow and probably never return, the 30 pack of neon post-its, the new phones, the 60 white cleaning cloths, and the ten pound bag of grapefruit, and in addition to the 29 food items I purchased for the drive, and the 108 snacks I bought, I only got 2 big jars of Dijon mustard, a pound and a half of assorted Lindnor truffles, A big thing of toasted coconut cashews for Heidi's brother, two pounds of grape tomatoes, 600 generic benadryl, and 350 extra strength Tylenol.

Hopefully, that Tylenol will last a while.

A Fine Distinction

The counselor and her intern made their annual presentation on bullying yesterday. This activity changes from year to year because the intern designs it as part of the graduate program she or he is in. As such, it can be hit or miss, but from my observation, this year was a good one; all the students seemed to be engaged in the powerpoint and the activities. Several kids even asked me today if we were going to continue that conversation, which was a very good sign in that 1) they remembered what we were doing yesterday and 2) they actually wanted to keep going with it.

I, too, felt like I learned something yesterday. Talking with kids in a meaningful way about bullying can be really hard, because by sixth grade, they know all the right answers and what we want them to say. "Tell an adult," rolls off their tongues faster than they can pack their books and run out the door at the bell. Even so, no one wants to be a snitch, and it is rare that kids report mistreatment, even of themselves.

That's why the distinction that yesterday's presentation made was so powerful.

Snitching? That's telling to get someone in trouble.

Reporting? That's telling to help someone out of trouble.

Small Pleasures

If I had my way we'd never move our furniture. Well, okay, we really don't move our furniture, except for that time we did-- around 10 years ago. Even then we just did it to accommodate the larger couch we got, the one with the foot rest on my side, which I do enjoy, but I am still nostalgic for the other arrangement.

Fortunately for me, when it comes time to put up a Christmas Tree the foot rest part of the couch must be carried upstairs and the room put back the way it used to be. For one month out of the year, it's as if we never moved our furniture at all, and... we get a Christmas Tree!

Members Only

In theory, "homework club" seems like a splendid idea. Teachers volunteer ten afternoons a year to supervise an after school study hall for any student on the team who wants to come. As a result, every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday we can offer all the supplies and know-how it takes to assist any willing scholar in getting a good head start on homework.

They key word, however, is "willing." After a full day of schooling, it's tough for most kids to sit for another hour. Even the snack we provide can't get rid of the ants in their pants. Because many parents insist that their kids attend, half of these jittery kids are not there by choice anyhow.

As such, homework club can become an epic struggle. Take today, for example, when the three boys I was sitting with completed a combined total of 5 questions in the hour we had. You can be sure I used all the tricks and tools I had to get that much from them, but the time of day and the number of kids in the room was too distracting for them, and in the end we were all frustrated.

It wasn't without its lighter side, though. "Look!" one of the boys told me. "I finished all this!" He brandished a work sheet under my nose.

"When did you do that?" I asked him.

"Now!" he answered triumphantly. "And you said I wasn't working."

"Well," I said taking a closer look, "it seems like you kind of rushed through this."

"Nah uh," he said with a pout. "I read every one of those."

"Really? Then how come you answered True or False to all these questions? Your choices were A, B, and C!"

He gave me a big shrug and an embarrassed grin. "Oops."

Room of Requirement

There has been a fair amount of shenanigans in Tolerance Club in the last few weeks. Don't misunderstand me; it's not that I don't appreciate the kids who voluntarily show up for an hour after school each Monday, and it's not that I don't know that kids have a lot of pent-up energy after seven solid hours of schooling. Even so, the behavior of the group has become, well, intolerable.

It was with this in mind that we adult sponsors planned to spend the first half of our meeting today having the students re-establish group "norms."

(Actually, I would have preferred to call them "rules" or even "agreements," because the term "norm" brings with it a lot of freight, especially in respect to the imposition of questionable business models on education-- I'm talking to you PLCs. Take for example this definition: Norms keep a group functioning as a system instead of a collection of individuals. Um. Does anyone else recognize that as a line from a dystopian novel? No? Well it should be.)

But I digress. So, we had the students brainstorm a list of rules that they could agree to follow when they attended Tolerance Club. The first one was to treat each other with respect, and when pressed, they defined that as sharing supplies and listening when others spoke. The list went on, and seemed pretty comprehensive until someone wanted to add "Have fun" for number eleven.

A hand shot up. "But what if we can't have fun and follow these rules?"

"I don't know. Is having fun more important than being respectful?" I countered.

"Maybe," he shrugged mischievously.

"Erase having fun then," I said, and we did.

"Wait," another student interjected. "You don't want us to have fun?" she asked with more than a hint of indignation.

"Oh, we want you to have fun," I told her, "It's just not required."

Surprise Me

It's been a kind of a movie-book weekend: in addition to a Harry Potter marathon on TV, I've seen both Catching Fire and The Book Thief, two movies I was looking forward to after having read the books.

But while Potter rarely disappoints, the other two were a bit of a let down. Describing them as predictable seems a little unfair, since I had read the books, but I think that's the key. If you know the plot, then the movie has to deliver something that adds to the book. It might be the performances, the sets, or the special effects (points to the Harry Potter series for all of those), but there has to be something, otherwise what's the point?