No Deal

Earlier in the week we found out that one of Isabel's buddies, Wellie, a 14-year-old golden also crossed the "rainbow bridge." How hard it has been adjusting to the loss of our dog! I just never considered what an integral part she was to our day-- so many things like taking out the trash, checking the mail, counting my steps, and locking the door at night are sad reminders that we do not have a dog.

Today we ran into Wellie's owner, Joanne, at the farmer's market. Exchanging hugs, we commiserated, wiping tears from our eyes. "We've been trying to think of things to do that were hard to manage with a dog," I confessed, "but yesterday I told Heidi that I couldn't think of a single time when I wished we didn't have a dog," I finished.

She nodded. "I know what you mean-- I've been looking at trips to panda reserves in China and visiting friends in London. They'll be fun," she said, "but I wouldn't trade them for my pet."

Well Attended

After last week's altercation, in order to head off any complaints or reports to the fire marshall, tonight when I started the grill I also set out a couple of lawn chairs, and Heidi, Victor, and I relaxed out front with a couple of beers as the day faded and the charcoal caught.

And it was lovely.

Fiesta de la Escritura

One of my teacher buddies in this week's workshop workshop had to duck out of the end-of-session celebration to attend a similar event for her 6-year-old son's summer camp. Being the conscientious educator she is, though, she checked in with us to find out what went on:

Rehearsal

We spent most of the day today in our workshop talking about teaching kids how to write literary analysis essays. The work was fun, but on the fourth day of a pretty intense week, my brain was pretty tired of comparing and contrasting themes and characters, and it was kind of welcome break when I headed up to the pool to spend some time with a friend and her kids.

At one point, I found myself sitting on the stairs with 4-year-old Lincoln. He was examining Heidi's vast collection of pool toys as his older siblings splashed away in the deep end. I grabbed two plastic figures and held them up.

"Who is this?" I said, lifting my right hand.

"Iron Man," he answered.

"And who is this?" I asked pushing my left hand a little closer to him.

"Captain America!" he smiled.

I widened my eyes. "What if these guys had a fight?" I said. He widened his eyes, too. "Who would win?"

"I don't know..." he told me doubtfully.

"Well," I continued, "what are their strengths? What can this guy do that this guy can't?"

And just like that, he was writing a little comparative essay in the air.

Empathy

So, I did a cursory job on my homework last night (read it took nowhere near 45 minutes), but it all turned out fine today. I knew enough to do the activity, and I knew the activity was for my own benefit, so I took what I could from the whole experience.

Later, at lunch, one of my best teacher buddies said, "I don't know about you, but I was feeling pretty negative about the homework last night.

I nodded.

"It really made me think about our students and their attitudes toward homework," she continued.

I agreed with her completely. "I like this class," I said. "I find it relevant and engaging, but after being in it all day, I didn't have any real desire to continue the work at home. Imagine how kids who don't like school must feel." And so started a conversation about rigor, stamina, and attention in class.

To be honest, homework is not the only area where I have struggled this week. As part of the class our instructor has led us through the process of really composing a personal narrative. You would think that with as much writing as I do this task would be a breeze, and I have carefully followed the instructions, but darn it!

My piece is just not working.

You know what, though? I'm kind of glad. Because there are a lot of kids who struggle with writing, and it's really good for me to be one of them for a change. 

Unprepared for Class

"And tonight your homework is..." said the instructor of my course this afternoon.

I felt myself cringe. Last night's charge to just take a look at your writing piece and see if it's the one you really want to work on this week and if so add a little to it was bad enough, but this assignment would take a good 45 minutes to an hour.

Or will it?

What's Right and What's Easy

I'm spending the week at a writing workshop workshop put on by the Teacher's College folks. It's a nice refresher of the structure I strongly believe to be the most effective for teaching kids to write. Unfortunately, teachers today are bombarded with so many competing initiatives and requirements that a visitor to my classroom last year might have had a tough time recognizing any such thing.

Ten years ago, when I applied to the summer institute of my local writing project I wrote about the slippery slope that my career had skidded down when it came to the workshop approach. Those five weeks reaffirmed my commitment to student-centered instruction with choice, daily writing time, and a classroom set-up that supported the work, and my instruction changed radically (for the better) as a result. I was much happier teaching and my students were a lot happier, too.

But oh! that slope and ah! that slip. Now I find myself in the same situation with the anti-workshop structures even more firmly entrenched and only a week to break that hold.

Will it happen?

Stay tuned!