Resigned

I like to think of myself as, if not a true foodie, at least foodie-esque. How can it be, then, that on a list of 30 places to eat in my home state of Virginia before you die, not only have I not eaten in any, but I don't even recognize a single one of them?

I guess I'll have to turn in my membership card, but I'll do so with the words of Groucho Marx:

Please accept my resignation. I don't want to belong to any club that will accept people like me as a member. 

Grow an Inch

Oh, St. Patrick's Day in middle school...

The last few years have offered us a reprieve through snow days and weekends, but pinch-mania was back in full force today and worse than ever it seemed, possibly because of the down time. I myself made sure to wear green this morning, as being properly attired gives more authority to your authority when you shut the pinching down.

And shut it down I had to. Beginning with my walk into the building this morning, when several kids were skittishly jigging about while others rubbed their arms and cheeks ruefully. They were only too happy to point out the culprit, who I knew well– she is in my homeroom– a student spiritedly sporting a white t-shirt with kelly green sequin letters.

Her gray zip-up hoodie was blocking the letter 'O',  so it appeared that her shirt said "Hell,"and I said as much as I made it clear to her that there was to be no pinching at school. She in turn told me that the shade of green I was wearing was considered "garbage green" and didn't really count as green at all, which must be why I was ruining the fun.

I glanced down at my forest green fleece and asked her to come with me. There was no more pinching from her after that.

A little later, the boisterous energy with which my first period came in the door was a startling contrast to their usual 8:15 lethargy. Of course it was because of the pinching. Some students had taped green paper shamrocks to their shirts for protection; still others rolled their pant legs to more easily point out the wee green stripe on their sock; one girl wrote the word "GREEN" in marker on her forehead.

Before they resorted to tattoos or dropping trou to show off their teeny greenies, I made a general announcement about the wearin o' the green.

"How fun it is to celebrate St. Patrick's Day," I started through gritted teeth, "and yet not everyone cares to do so. Please respect their choice by not assaulting them." But alas my speech was too late.

"Ouch!" cried a girl in pink. "My shoelaces are green!" she continued indignantly.

"Out!" I pointed to the pincher. "I will speak to you in the hallway."

I got the class settled and to work and then stepped out the door to chat up the naughty leprechaun. To my surprise, he was not wearing a single thread of green. He was remorseful, though, and it was with tears in his eyes that he answered my question, "Why'd you do it?"

"Those people in green think they have so much power," he snuffled. "The whole thing is so dumb!"

I had to give him that.

Million Dollar Teacher

How thrilled was I to hear the news today that Nancie Atwell, my teaching idol, won the so-called "Nobel Prize" of teaching, the one million dollar Varkey Foundation Global Teacher Prize?

Very!

This year was the first for awarding what the foundation promises to be an annual honor for worthy teachers across the globe, and in my opinion, they couldn't have chosen a more deserving inaugural recipient. I have written a lot about Atwell in this blog over the years, including a reflection on the week my friend Leah and I spent with her in the teacher intern program at her school in Maine, and another on a workshop our school's whole English department attended.

I encourage you to click on the tag below to revisit a few of those posts.

The Dog, Walking

Since we were heading to Union Station to pick Josh up  after his first ever college spring break, we decided to take another walk with the dog through our fair city. The sunshine today brought a lot more folks out than yesterday, and our route took us up and around the Capitol. As we strolled, Isabel was a bit of a star, especially with the children; lots of kids ran over to pet and hug her, and one dad even asked if he could take her picture with his toddler son. It was really no surprise to us, though. She was groomed earlier this week, and after a bath?

Her fur is as soft and fine as her temperament.

An Evening Stroll

It was soggy to be sure, but not really raining, when we loaded the dog in the station wagon and headed downtown for a change of scenery and some fresh air. At 5 PM most of the museums on the National Mall were closing and so we had our pick of parking spaces. We chose one right across from the iconic red stone castle and started our walk through the gardens in the back.

Spring has not yet sprung– the beds were brown and barren– but the soft weather and mild air promised it would soon. We continued on our way past the sculpture garden (no dogs allowed) and on toward the Capitol. While waiting for the light to change to cross 4th St, I glanced to my left and, seeing the National Building Museum looming above the courthouse, suggested we turn there.

Threading the needle between the East Wing and the National Gallery to cross Constitution, up we climbed through John Marshall Park and on by the Canadian Embassy, around Judiciary Square, and into the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial where we were captivated by the all the lion sculptures. Another quick left and we found ourselves on the way to the Verizon Center. Left again, past the Crime and Punishment Museum, and after a stop at Red Velvet Cupcakes, we were headed back to the Mall via the National Archives and Natural History Museum.

An hour after we parked, we loaded our dog back into the car and headed home, clear-headed and full of appreciation for our hometown.

To Have and to Hold

Over the course of my career, I have been fortunate to be in the vanguard of educational technology. 20 years ago, I had a computer and printer actually in my classroom, when most of the others were in labs. I wrote a grant for a phone line and modem so that my students could have email pen pals back in 1996, and the same year I asked the principal for an LCD projector so that we might watch movies and view other electronic presentations in our awesome theater. Not too long after that, I had one of the first SmartBoards in our school, and I also introduced the document camera to the building (by offering to pilot it, of course!) There is a strong web-based component to my English class, and it's been years since final drafts of anything were hand-written.

I share this history not to boast, but rather to establish that I appreciate technology, and although I am not a digital native, I like to think I earned my citizenship a long time ago. Even so, the recent push to automate everything and go as paperless as possible does not sit well with me. Does something really exist if you can't see it without a charged battery? I think not. I'm a little too analog for a totally virtual world.

That's why the latest writing assignment my students are doing, collaborative stories written in letter form, will ultimately be published in tiny chap books, one for each author, and a couple for the classroom library.

I've showed the students how to assemble them as they've finished their pieces, and the reaction has been remarkable. "You mean we can have it?" one girl asked me today, incredulously. And when I nodded, she hugged it to her chest. "That's so cool!"

Group Hug

It happens every year...

Like turns to love, and the students in my class go from somebody else's children to *my* kids.

I think you can see why: