Ghosts

Ever since I was a kid I have loved a good ghost story, and judging from the books many of my students choose, I am not alone.

My students also love graphic novels, and Raina Telgemeier is a favorite author. Her breakout book was Smile, a memoir of orthodontic woes and her own middle school years. The novel Drama and another memoir, Sisters, were her follow-up offerings. In between, she also illustrated graphic versions of the first four Babysitter Club novels by Ann M. Martin.

Popular with boys and girls alike, no matter how many copies I have, I can't keep her books on my shelf. So, when I saw back in May that her newest novel would be released in September, it was a no-brainer pre-order. This morning, I grabbed it from my mailbox and threw it in my school bag, knowing it would make great reading as my students were taking a required online reading inventory.

I was right! Ghosts has everything-- perfect for this time of year, it follows a family of mixed Mexican and American heritage who move to a coastal town in Northern California right before school starts to benefit the youngest daughter's health. There they find a diverse population who all seem to embrace the ghosts the town is famous for. Spooky but not too scary, it straddles this world and the spirit world and culminates late at night as Halloween fades to Dia de los Muertos. With a likable but conflicted main character, Ghosts explores serious issues that are relevant to lots of kids: loss, family, regret, death, and forgiveness.

I loved it! In fact, when one of the kids spotted it on my desk and asked if someone was reading it, I confess to being a little snippy when I replied, "Yes! Me!"

But, since I already have a waiting list of ten kids to read it next?

I ordered three more copies.

Lesson of the Day

"Hey guys!" I started my class today, "do you realize that this is your one week anniversary of starting middle school?" After a spontaneous but very well-earned round of applause I continued, "So guess what? We are going to take some tests!"

There were equal parts groans and laughs, but everyone was resigned: these kids have never been in a school that didn't test the heck out of them. They expected nothing else.

And as such? Most of them performed like yeoman, brave and stout, producing a page or so of prose in 45 minutes or less. (We'll talk about quality later, I'm sure.)

At the end of the day, one girl stopped at my desk on her way out the door. "I have a pop quiz for you," she said.

It was only fair. "Shoot," I replied.

"What's my name?" she asked.

"Greyson," I answered without hesitation.

"Wow!" she said, "How do you do that?"

"I work at it," I told her honestly, thinking of how I go over and over my rosters matching names to faces, "Because it's important!"

She nodded, genuinely impressed.

Darking Bogs

Sounds ominous, right?

But it's just a spoonerism our neighbor inadvertently used to describe some local tension in our little community. Hopefully it will all be resolved soon-- we definitely prefer dappy hogs!

Cheers for the Cuppa, Mate

We did a stint caring for our neighbor's cats while she was in London last week. Although we are happy enough to help out, she always makes sure to bring back a few gifts for us. This morning, as she presented us with a lovely little bag of goodies, she apologized to me.

"I think I may have gotten you the same thing as I did the last time I was in London," she said. "I shopped in some of the same places."

"You got me another catapult?" I asked excitedly. "From the London Catapult Shop?" I teased her.

"We call that shop the British Museum," she laughed, "and no, I did not get you another catapult."

I ended up with a special edition tea and bone china mug from Harrods... can't complain about that.

Illegal Motion

I know that you're not allowed to touch artwork in museums, but I also know that "mobile" means motion, and so when I saw a tiny little Alexander Calder work sitting perfectly still on its pedestal in the Hirshhorn this afternoon, I wanted to see it move. So both the rule-follower and the problem-solver in me stood before the little mobile and blew very gently, watching it twirl and admiring its perfect balance and grace.

"Please don't blow on the artwork," a stern voice interrupted me.

I turned to face it, quizzically.

"I know it doesn't say so," the uniformed guard apologized, "but to preserve the art, we really don't want people doing that."

"Okay," I shrugged.

She lowered her voice. "I've never seen that move until now, though," she told me. "It's amazing. Thanks!"

What Really Matters

Ten years ago my friend Mary shared an activity she did with her students. Well, really it was an assignment for her students' parents. In a million words or less, she asked them, tell me about your child! Well... I know an awesome idea when I see it, and so I sent the same request home. Turns out, parents have a quite a bit to say about their kids: the replies that we received were some of the most heart-warming writing I have ever read.

For many reasons, I have not repeated that activity. Times change, and the focus of education has famously followed. As a teacher I have been pushed and pulled into so many initiatives and requirements that I know I have dropped many valuable things along the way. I guess this parents' homework was one of them.

Back in 2006, electronic communication and the Internet was still catching on, and we asked the parents to do their work on paper. Oh, I'm sure a twig or two gave its life so that our request could be fulfilled, but the upside is that as I was going through my files last week before my new students arrived, I found one stuffed full of letters about kids who are just turning 21, adults themselves now.

Despite several initiatives and requirements scratching at the door, I took the folder and a yearbook over to a table by the window and I looked at each student's picture as I read the words of their parents.

So many of them started the same way:

What can I say about... 
Kaitlyn, 
Philip, 
Rourke, 
Abby, 
Emma, 
Victor, 
Zuhaer, 
Andie
Treat? 

And then continued:

He has natural curiosity
She likes vegetables
He is sweet and happy
I was just sixteen when she was born
He is kind and compassionate
She has a thrill to tell stories
He learns better by doing
As the oldest child, she has a tendency to be bossy


And they ended like this:

Thanks for giving me the chance to tell you about my daughter. 
Please push him-- he needs it! 
I'm not sure if I did my million words, but I tried! My hand is tired!
His dad has been away a lot the last four years to Iraq and Afghanistan. 
He is a little bit Dr. Doolittle's push me-pull me, a little bit monkey.
I want to tell you more about my daughter, but I don't want you to get to bored.
I want the very best for my son. I didn't finish high school, but I hope he will.

Game Changer

I confess that I was dragging a little as I made my way to the front entrance of school this morning:

The beginning of the year is always sooooo hectic; I'm teaching an unfamiliar curriculum; and I don't know these kids yet! Throw in a 5:30 alarm and a 90+ heatwave in September, and there I was, slow-walking it to work.

Still, there is something to be said about being a long-time teacher at a middle school, and I got a bit of a rockstar's welcome, lots of waves and shouts, as I walked by students past and present waiting for the bell to enter the building. Right before I hit the front door, I was hailed by one of the new guys. "Who is your favorite superhero?" he asked breathlessly.

"Gosh," I answered, "that's a really good question. I like Iron Man's attitude, but I feel like the suit is kind of cheating. Is he really a superhero?"

He nodded.

I shrugged. "I guess it's Captain America?"

He beamed. "I can draw him!" he told me. "I'll bring you a picture tomorrow!" And with that, he and his friends headed off to the sixth grade doors.

Me? I kept going toward the main entrance, but there was definitely more oomph in my step.