When Seasons Collide

Winter, this is Spring.
Spring? Meet Winter.
Winter, these are flowers.
Spring? This is snow!
Winter-- listen to all those birds!
Spring-- that perfume in the air is wood smoke.
I think you both know puddles and mud, don't you?
Winter, I know you were on your way out,
so don't let us keep you.
See you next year?
Spring, come on in,
we've been waiting for you!

Make Up Your Mind!

We've had several near misses in the Nor'easters that have hammered the Mid-Atlantic over the last few weeks, but it looks like we might have a significant spring snow storm aheadin' our way. In advance of this iffy forecast, today we were treated to temperatures just above freezing with drenching rain and sleet.

Bundling up this morning to walk the dog in the frigid, wet, gray dawn, I struggled to open my umbrella with my mittens on, and, for just a moment it seemed like too much.

Cold?
Bring it!

Rain?
Okay.

Both at once?
That's just crazy talk!

On Their Own

The day was sunny and warm, the chatter on the bus friendly and excited. We were on our way with 225 sixth graders to George Washington's Mount Vernon. Fortunately the place is big enough with so many different options and activities that it almost seemed like each small group had it to themselves. My 13 kids chose a scavenger hunt based on Washington's Spies to guide their exploration of the grounds and out buildings, and down at the museum, they loved the 4D movie so much that they wanted to see it twice. "Why not?" I shrugged. Who was I to deprive them of a double dose of Revolutionary War history?

It was their day, and I was just along to make sure no one got injured or hurt as they explored and learned about our first president on their own terms. Being allowed to make their own responsible choices is still a novelty in sixth grade, and these kids embraced the freedom.

Back on the bus, the group seemed pretty satisfied. "I thought it was going to be boring," I overheard one student say, "but it was actually awesome!"

Independence is always engaging, as I'm sure Washington himself would have agreed!

Old Book, New Book

When we were teenagers my brother, sister, and I devoured popular epic novels at an amazing rate. Plot driven and securely anchored in place and time, those books taught us a lot about the world. James Michener was a favorite, and long before any of us settled in Virginia, we knew all about the history and ecology of the Chesapeake Bay, particularly its Eastern Shore, because we had read his book, Chesapeake. To this day, I can't look at a great blue heron without thinking of the nickname fishing long legs.

Even so, and as much time as I've spent on and around the actual Chesapeake Bay in the last 35 years, I have never thought to revisit the book. Set aside the 865 pages(!), when it comes to stories, I'm a forward-looking reader, and I like to be surprised. But there was something about the heron I saw yesterday on my walk around a little local lake that prompted me to download the book last night.

I needn't have worried. As Billy Collins says in his poem Forgetfulness, 

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel 
which suddenly becomes one you never heard of

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones. 

It wasn't quite that bad~~ I remembered Michener and fishing long legs~~ but the rest seems new to me!

A Journey

It was only 4.7 miles around the little man-made lake, and yet in the couple of hours it took us to walk the circuit with the dog we witnessed a hawk dive into the leaves and fly off with some poor little squeaking rodent in its talons, and beheld a great blue heron wading near the shore dunk its head into the shallows, remerge with a wiggling fish, and swallow it in one gulp. Dozens of giant trees stood snagged and splintered by the huge windstorm 2 weeks ago. We spotted an eagle's nest, plenty of Canada geese, mallards, and cormorants, and the marsh whistled with red-wing blackbirds, while the woods buzzed with Carolina chickadees and tufted titmice. People ran, jogged, limped, rolled, and strolled with us and against us. A bearded man svengalied his four dogs with rap music so that he could snap a pack photo on a little dock. The sun was out; a cold wind gusted; leaden clouds filled the sky; it snowed; the sun returned; it snowed again. And 9500 steps later we climbed into our car and headed home.

Shhhh! Top Secret

So this week I have continued posting a little puzzle or task in our class writing challenge to encourage more kids to take a closer look and read through some of the posts. The reward has been a Jolly Rancher for any who successfully answer the question.

Yesterday I posed the following: Hello students! It's time for our next JoRaCha. That's it! Using the above form of abbreviation, hand me a slip of paper with your *secret* name.

I was thinking along the lines of NaNoWriMo or HeLa cells, creating an abbreviation by using the first consonant(s) and vowel of the word to stand in for it, and lots of kids were able to figure it out. It was all good until NoBe, BeLa, and ElDa decided to decipher my secret name. They were giggling so loudly at their table that I stepped over. "What's so funny?"

"You!" one said. "Your secret name is TraSh!"

"No!" I said, "You have to add the 'e' at the end!"

"Maybe the 'e' is silent!" another teased.

"Or else your name is TraShe!" said the third added, pronouncing the second syllable. "Would you rather be trash or trashy?"

They had me there-- I began to laugh right along with them. "That's Ms. TraShe to you! Good thing it's my secret name!" I said.

Third Millennium Shopping

News today that Toys R Us is liquidating all their stores. The retail landscape has changed so drastically in the last decade or so that such a turn of events is hardly surprising. To be honest, I can't remember the last time I was even in a big box toy store, although there is one just a couple of miles from my home. A toy store is always much more fun with kids, and the kids in my life are either too old or too far away to go shopping with me. Still, I think it's kind of a loss.

When I was a kid, the big toy store near us was Kiddie City, and the times our parents took us there were always special. I remember shopping for a sand box, a swing set, birthday bikes, and skates. Floor to ceiling shelves lined aisle after endless aisle, miraculously filled with real toys that until then had only been the stuff of technicolor TV commercials. There was New Born Thumbelina, Rock'em Sock'em Robots, Marvel the Mustang, stacks of Easy Bake Ovens, Playdough Factories, and Light Brites.

Oh, I have embraced our new shopping where everything in the world is available with free 2 day shipping. It's thrilling, but occasional disappointment is necessarily built into that deal. Of course there are instant printable return labels and the option to drop your box at the nearest shipping store, where it is added to a mountain of other anonymous brown cartons, each one containing an item that wasn't quite right.

Sort of the opposite of a toy store, really.