Not Just for Selfies

A tumble of ice cascaded from the freezer when I opened the door a little while ago. We were away from home all day, but as busy as we had been, the ice maker was obviously much busier. Clearing away the frozen crescents from the thin silver arm to manually lift it into the for God's sake stop making ice position, I saw that the little piece of wire had pulled loose from one side and so there were literally no brakes on the maker.

Just then another perfect batch dropped, partially burying my hand. Although urgent, it did not seem like a difficult repair: I could see the hole across from me where the wire was still in place, so surely there must be a corresponding opening on the facing part, even though it was out of my line of sight. I reached in and poked about with the loose part, trying to find that obscure cavity by touch alone with no success. I cleared some space in the freezer and stepped on a small ladder, but neither my neck nor the design was yielding. 

I need a mirror! I said to myself and then visualized such a tool and where I might find it in the house, but I could not think of where a hand mirror might be. What do we use to see ourselves? I wondered, and the solution became clear. I grabbed my phone, swiped on the camera, flipped the view around, and thrust it into the freezer where the teeny, tiny hole was revealed. In went the wire, and the ice maker was fixed!

Good Start

Heidi received a big fat envelope in the mail earlier this week. Inside her parents had packed all her report cards, first communion programs, and traffic tickets (yes, traffic tickets) from kindergarten through college. Since then, she has gleefully reviewed her developmental milestones, Especially interesting? Why her very first progress report, dated September 1973. At not yet 5, Heidi entered kindergarten and was deemed strong, coordinated ("able to run, hop, skip, and jump"), prepared ("well-rested and ready to learn"), and socially adept ("carries and uses tissues or hankie" and "able to tell stories in sequence and using complete sentences").

That's my girl!

Semantics

"Why do you think I ask you to be quiet when we're in a workshop?" I asked my class today in an effort to, well, get them to quit yappin' and start writin'.

Several hands shot up. "So we can wooooork!" they practically chorused.

"Yeah," someone added, "It's called 'workshop' not 'talkshop'!

Still Wondering

The waiting room was pretty crowded when the young mother walked into the doctor's office with her two small sons this morning. The boys were restless, and the three attracted my attention as she checked in at the window. A quick look around the small lobby showed me that there were no seats together, and so when they turned around, I moved to the empty chair next to me so that they could sit while they waited to be called. She held the youngest in her lap, he looked to be perhaps 18 months, and patted the seat next to her for her older son. He was skeptical, but sat anyway. "I'm hungry," he said to his mom.

"You just ate breakfast," she told him.

He squirmed.

"Let's read a book," she suggested and handed him one from her bag.

"No!" he scowled, and so she took another and began reading it to the toddler on her lap.

I heard her older boy sigh and felt his eyes on me.

"No school today?" I asked him.

"Nope!" he answered.

"What grade are you? First?" I guessed.

He smiled. "Yes!"

"What's the name of your school?"

I wondered if he was from our district, but I didn't recognize the long name he mumbled. Still I nodded enthusiastically. "Nice!" I said.

"We're going to the zoo today," he told me.

"Fun!" I answered. "What's your favorite animal?"

He cut his eyes at his mother, who was listening to his conversation with the stranger next to him.

"That's not an appropriate joke for people you don't know," she said to him.

He laughed. I was confused.

"Oh, you're not really going to the zoo?" I guessed.

"No, we're going," she answered, "but he was kidding about it with me earlier, and I don't want him to repeat what he said."

"Oh," I replied, because there seemed nothing else to say, but I couldn't imagine what she could possibly be talking about.

Fortunately, the awkward silence was broken a moment later when they were called in to see the doctor.

I guess I'll never know.

Half-Baked

All the sixth grade students at our school have been taking their quarterly district-required standardized reading test the last couple of days. Designed as a predictor for the state assessment they will take in the spring, the first quarter test consists of four texts and 23 questions.

The passages are a mix of fiction and nonfiction, and one of them was actually a recipe for crispy oven-fried chicken. Which one of these steps should come first? the students were asked and given four choices including beat the eggs and lay the chicken legs one inch apart on a baking sheet.

It's kind of a tough question for a non-cook, and let's be honest: how many 11-year-olds have the background knowledge to make that inference? Plus, did anyone stop to think that they were literally asking which comes first, the chicken or the eggs?

But the best story of the day came from my friend Mary. One of her students pulled out his iPad during the test. "What are you doing?" she asked him.

"I want to get a picture of this recipe!" he replied. "It looks so good!"

Some Battles Choose You

We rolled out the iPads for the sixth graders today and much of the conversation centered around what they were and were not allowed to download. Our district organizes acceptable programs into an "App Catalog" and students are only supposed to download from there; in fact they and their parents sign an agreement to that effect. The problem is that they must have access to the Apple App Store as well, so that Apple can push down or otherwise make updates available, so for a few hours every day a siren song lures them into forbidden waters.

Oh I heard an earful today on the subject. "You know the seventh graders all have games on their devices!" was a common complaint.

"They are taking a risk and breaking the rules," I answered. "If they get caught, there will be consequences."

"One of the other sixth grade teams told everybody they could download one app, just one, but any one they wanted!" was another widely reported rumor.

"I doubt it," I said. "We teachers are not even allowed to give you permission to get apps from the app store. Do you know why? Because they ARE NOT our iPads! And they aren't yours either! Who owns those?"

"The schools," they chorused miserably.

"That's right!" I answered brightly, "and whatever they want you to have is in the app catalog!"

At that, one student indignantly raised his hand like a prim little flag. "Well then why did they have us get Apple IDs if we're not allowed to use them for games?"

"Why don't you give me that iPad back," I suggested, "and then we can see what you need it for when you don't have it?"

He drooped to half mast. "That's okay," he mumbled.

Fish out of Water

We went out for Heidi's birthday dinner last night. "What should I get?" Heidi asked scanning the menu.

"Be adventurous!" I advised. "Try something new."

When the waiter delivered the plate of whole grilled porgy festooned with pickled celery and shallots, she sat back a minute in dismay, but then quickly regained her composure and grabbed first her knife and fork, but after a moment, her camera, too.

"Don't," I said.

"Why not?" she asked.

I shrugged. "It's a kind of uncool."

She listened to me, but later we were both sorry. I because I regretted being so uptight and controlling, and Heidi because at least five people asked to see a picture of it when she told them what she had!