Reasonable Doubt

I was out of school today for a couple of doctor appointments, and the sub I had sends email updates at the end of the day. I kind of like her initiative; on the plans I leave I always request a note detailing the day's events, and this way I get it right away.

I know from personal experience, both as a student AND a sub, that it's a hard job. I try to leave thorough plans with concrete, doable activities to make things go smoothly, but I know that doesn't always work. I try to find subs who work in our school regularly so they know the kids and the kids know them, but again, that is not always an option or even successful. I have lectured, scolded, and referred students upon my return, but as far as I can tell, that doesn't really improve things, either.

Kids and subs... it's a conundrum.

So some years ago I decided to let it go, or at least extend the benefit of the doubt to all parties. What happens with the sub stays with sub, or something like that. Never mind the hours I put in on my sub plans: let the sub take the credit when they love the lesson. And no matter how ridiculous the claim, "The sub said we didn't have to..." I'll shrug it off and let them know they have to now. Certainly, I express disappointment when informed of poor behavior, but in the grand scheme of things, it's 47 minutes.

Today, though, my sub informed me that my students shattered not one, but two Rubik's cubes that I keep in my classroom. "The pieces are in a tray on your desk," she wrote. "I'm so terribly sorry."

That doesn't sound accidental to me. I wonder what they'll tell me tomorrow.

20/20 Vision

October is Disability Awareness Month and so in response the Tolerance Club has planned a few consciousness-raising events. Last week we showed a video called I Have Tourettes but Tourettes Doesn't Have Me, a compelling portrayal of the lives of kids with this syndrome told in their own words.

This week we organized stations to help students experience what it might be visually impaired. The brailling machine was very popular and so were the goggles that simulate visual impairment, and our school system's mobility specialist was there, too, along with two students whose eyesight is weakened by albinism. Putting on a blindfold and using a white cane to navigate the familiar territory of our school's hallways was far and away the most engaging activity. 

Afterwards, the kids talked about the challenges they'd experienced, but it was all brought home by one of their classmate who reminded them that they could always take the blindfolds and goggles off. "Imagine what it's like for us," she said, "because we can't imagine what it's like to be you."

Fringe Benefits

Big article in the NYTimes Magazine today asks the question, "What if Age is Nothing but a Mindset?" It seems like a sensible question, and the author puts forth quite a bit of evidence in support of the assertion that one's mental attitude can play a big role in aging.

In one study, researchers had their subjects, “make a psychological attempt to be the person they were 22 years ago,” and they provided them with props to help, including vintage clothing and furnishings, news reports, and movies. They even removed the mirrors to prevent distracting from the illusion, and at the end of the experiment, the participants tested higher on both the mental and physical assessments they had taken at the beginning.

I like these results! Consider that I have spent the last 20+ years teaching sixth grade and you will understand why. The world marches on, yes, but in room 275, almost everyone is always eleven or twelve, and there are no mirrors.

It's like a little fountain of youth, isn't it?

Misplaced Faith

While out and about on this beautiful fall weekend I saw the following message on a license plate frame: God favors me.

Really?

No fair.

A or P

It was 7:10 this morning when my eyes snapped open. Something was wrong. Uh, yeah, it was... school started in half an hour and no one in our house was up. It was a first in my teaching career-- I have never overslept once in the last 21+ years, but I was determined to make it on time. Heidi and I sped through our morning routines, skipping some steps, obviously, and I was out the door, with iced coffee and lunch, by 7:30, thereby avoiding another first: actually being late for school.

Special thanks goes to Heidi who graciously took one for the team and called a colleague to cover her homeroom so that she might be a little later than I was. I know how lucky I am; when I told the story to one of my friends at work, she said, "I'd have torn my husband up if he done that to me!" Hmm. Sobering. Thanks again, Heidi!

All day I wondered how this could have happened. We had forgotten our phone alarms, but I knew I turned the clock-radio alarm back on last night. This evening at 5:20 the mystery was solved when NPR came a-blaring down the stairs, just 12 hours too late.

Sky Island

Josh was a little ways ahead of us and almost to the summit of Hawksbill Mountain when he stopped suddenly. "It smells like Maine up here," he called. He should know. We've been telling him to roll down his windows and smell the Maine since he was six. There's a place on the Turnpike just south of Portland where the balsams are so fragrant that it doesn't matter if you're going 70; you can always catch that quintessential scent.

I looked up to where Josh was standing and noticed a gnarly balsam just to his left. I pointed. "That explains it," I said, but that was really only half true. There just aren't too many of those trees here in Virginia. We climbed the rest of the way to the top and enjoyed the 360 degree view of Old Rag, the Appalachian Trail, and the fall color blanketing the hills and hollows below. On the way back down, I lingered more than a moment beneath that balsam before continuing on to the hardwoods below.

It turns out that we had hiked to a "sky island", a place where the altitude allows a totally different ecosystem. The boreal forest we passed through was actually a vestige of the ice age, a time when the climate there was much more similar to, say, Maine, today.  Too bad they didn't have any lobster on that island, too!

Scaredy Pooch

Perhaps it was the nail gun that the door repair guy used on Monday to refasten the trim. Maybe it was six cans of lemonade that exploded all over the dining room yesterday. Whatever the cause, our dog practically jumped out of her skin when I accidentally stepped on some bubble wrap this evening. She's had a rough week!