Out of the Office

Today was a holiday, tomorrow I'm out for doctor's appointments, and they are calling for snow and ice all day on Wednesday.

When will I ever get back to school?

(Oh, and did I mention that I am out next Monday for our annual Oscar Holiday Weekend?)

For the Record

A question occurred to me as I sat watching the five Academy-Award-nominated short documentaries this afternoon. Is the job of a documentary simply to document or is it something more?

I considered the first of the five, the story of young man of Nigerian heritage whose parents had moved him from London to a city 35 miles away in attempt to shield him from the violence that claimed the life of a child from their neighborhood. Confronted by racism in his new home, his survival strategy was to do whatever he could to get the thugs targeting him to accept him, and he was so successful that he eventually became a member of their violent gang.

The next entry followed several terminally ill patients, their families, and caretakers as they negotiated end-of-life situations and decisions with as much dignity and empathy as possible. Mini-doc three consisted of 7 minutes of archival footage of a rally held 80 years ago in Madison Square Garden where 20,000 Americans showed up to support the rise of Nazism in Europe.

The fourth was on refugees fleeing Northern Africa on perilous rafts and boats bound for Europe, a topic that has been addressed by other films, also recognized by the Academy, over the last few years. The final entry told about women in India who, held back by the inconvenience and stigma of menstruation started a pad manufacturing factory that gave them and their clients more freedom to pursue education and employment.

When the last credits rolled and the lights came up, I imagined that my fellow movie-goers were also wondering how best to appraise what these various films were documenting. Was it simply some aspect of the the human condition? Was it a problem? A solution? Or something else?

Conversational Piece

"What is that?" the cashier asked she rang up one of my items.

"I don't know," I answered.

She looked at my strangely.
I considered my reply.
It was indeed very unexpected.

"I'm a teacher," I explained, "and every year my students make commercials for make-believe product. I saw this on clearance and thought it would make a good prop."

Her confusion turned to interest, and we chatted amicably as she finished with my stuff. "My teachers never did anything like that!" she told me as I swiped my card. "Kids today are really lucky!"

"Was that oversharing?" I asked Heidi as we left the store.

"No, Babe, I think that was just right," she said.

Silver Linings Playbook

That one section of my class that has been consistently the most challenging all year is fortunately the period of the day when I have the most support. It is co-taught by me, a special education teacher, and an English language learner support teacher. Even so, that particular group gives the three of us a run for our money almost every day.

Now that I have a student teacher working with us, too, it finally seems that the adults are gaining the upper hand. Because there are so many other professionals working with the class, I am often not the one providing direct instruction. Such was the case a couple of days ago when my intern was teaching the lesson.

I was in one corner of the room using my presence to manage the 8 students over there, and my co teachers were strategically standing in other parts of the room, too. After the lesson when the students began working independently, the four of us moved through the room, helping and redirecting the kids as they collaborated in small groups to analyze and evaluate some commercials. Later, when the students had gone on to their electives, we congratulated each other on the success of the class.

"It was almost like we were choreographed," said one of my colleagues.

"No, it was more like a basketball play!" I said. "In fact, " I added, warming up to the analogy, "we should have a playbook! We can screen, pic and roll, isolate the shooter, double team, slide the zone... oh my gosh! It will be a teacher best seller!"

Power of the Pup

Lucy and I were on the return leg of our quick morning walk when we heard a mournful wail coming from down some stairs. Lucy froze, and I tugged impatiently at her leash as a young family lumbered into the parking lot. We often see these two tiny girls and their mom and dad in the morning as they head to their car to start the day, but this time the oldest little girl, who can be no more than 3, was sobbing as she walked. Spotting a floppy red dog sitting on the sidewalk with concern, she slowed her pace a bit.

"She's so worried because she heard you crying!" I said.

The tears stopped immediately. There was even a little smile across her pink cheeks as she reached a chubby hand toward Lucy's full body wag.

"It's Valentine's Day!" I told her. "Nobody should be sad today!"

As the little family continued silently toward the car, I was quite certain her parents agreed.

Operation Happy Voice

Heidi had her phone on speaker as she waited on hold for a med-tech representative to pick up and take her order. At last a chipper young man answered the call. When she stated her business, he never missed a cheerful beat. "Whoa! Tragically, my friend, you have called the wrong company! But would you like me to look up the right number for you?"

"Uh," Heidi hesitated. "Yes, please?"

"No problem at all!" he responded. "Here you go! Have a great day! Thanks for choosing our company!"

Take Note

For the second semester this year, my friend Mary and I are piloting a new kind of homework for us. Called a "Writing Log", the concept is to have students free write a page or more regularly in their notebooks, and then select an entry to turn in weekly. Because the expectation is still new, today I took the opportunity to check in with a couple of kids.

"How long does it usually take you to do your writing homework?" I asked one young man.

"8-12 minutes," he told me with certainty.

"That seems... reasonable?" I prompted.

"It all depends if I know what I'm going to write about when I sit down," he said. "If I do? Then it... just flows!" He opened his hand expansively to show me what he meant.

He needn't have. I know all too well how a daily writing committment goes. "If you get an idea during the day," I said earnestly, "you should definitely write it down."

He nodded skeptically.

I went to my desk to jot our conversation down.