Pumpkin Dreams

"What is that?" I pointed to a large, green butternut squash shaped object growing by the fence. We had stopped by the garden for the first time in a couple of weeks. The last time I had visited, I had pretty much picked everything clean, and with the droughty conditions, I didn't expect much to be growing.

I traced the vine back to the spot where I had transplanted a handful of seedlings in early July. They had come from a grow-your-own-pumpkin kit that I received in my stocking. Could it be a pumpkin? I wondered with rising excitement, but upon close examination, I just didn't think so. It was the only one of its sort growing, and although the other vines were gangbusters, none of them were bearing any fruit.

Since I had no idea if it were ripe or not, I decided to leave it there and gently turned it over, so that the garden side might see some sunshine. A little research when I got home suggested that it may likely be a Lunga di Napoli squash, an Italian heirloom similar to our butternut, but with green skin instead of tan.

Even so, I'll leave it there and check again next weekend to see if there are any signs that it may turn bright orange by October.

Oh Lord

"Jesus Christ!" the technician cried from the kitchen. He was here to haul away the old dishwasher, and deliver and install the new one.

I bolted up from the couch. "What?"

"I can't close this cutoff valve!" he complained. "Are you sure it's not closed?"

I shrugged and nodded and returned to the couch.

"Jesus Christ!" I heard again, but chose to ignore it. "Ma'am!" he continued. "Can you come out here please?"

It seems the valve was faulty-- dry when open or closed, but leaky in between. I assured him I would get a plumber as soon as possible, and went back to the living room.

"Jesus Christ!" he swore again, but this time it was partner who asked him what was wrong. "They used the braces under the countertops!" he scoffed. "That's not right."

The other agreed and went to get the new dishwasher from the truck.

"Jesus Christ!" a voice exploded from under the sink. "Ma'am! Can you come in here?"

"Yes?" I stood in the kitchen door.

"Can you explain to me why someone would put three clamps on the line leading into the disposal?" he demanded.

"Um... no," I answered. "Is that a problem?"

"Well it's completely unnecessary and makes my job that much harder!" he told me.

Apologetically, I returned to the couch.

"Jesus Christ!" he said to no one in particular. "Would you look at this floor?"

I studied my hands and wondered if I needed to report to the kitchen in shame.

Fifteen minutes and a couple of butt-crack views later, the new dishwasher was in. I thanked the team for their labor and I assured them I would have a plumber and carpenter assess the situation soon.

Jesus Christ! I thought, as I closed the front door.

Everybody Wins

We were playing "IB Charades" in home room this morning, and I was kind of surprised at how much my students were enjoying it. Everyone wanted to take turn after turn to act out the 10 Learner Profile traits and the five Approaches to Learning skills, which, to be honest, can be rather dry material.

I have one student who is not quite on grade level, but the other kids are good at including her by meeting her where she is. On her first turn, she chose Balanced and the class got it right away when she very convincingly mimed walking across a tightrope. Her next turn she got Caring, and I was initially confused when she dropped to her hands and knees and started across the carpet.

"Come here," I told her. "I think you read that word wrong," I whispered. "It wasn't crawling, it was caring."

She nodded and picked up a few books and began walking across the room again.

I frowned, and then, figuring it out, gestured her back. "I said caring, like you're really nice, not carrying!" I whispered again.

She was unfazed, and reaching for one of the stuffed animals I keep in a crate by the wall, scooped it up and gave it a hug."

"Caring!" the class guessed.

"You got it!" she said.

Didn't See That Coming

Heidi teaches social skills to some of the kids at our school. In the class, they use the terms "expected" and "unexpected" to describe behaviors. It is supposed to be a value-free way of describing someone's actions, based on reading the social situation and cues. Screaming and yelling and jumping might be unexpected in a science lab, but they would perfectly acceptable and expected at, say,  a soccer game.

To introduce the concept, Heidi comes into the class and slams the door, throws a few things on the floor, and then lays her head down on the table. The students are usually stunned at first, and then Heidi has them tell how they felt when she behaved in such an unexpected way. She has done this lesson for years, and I always enjoy hearing how kids I know reacted to her antics. The things they say are funny and revealing. "I didn't even want to look at you!" one student said. "I didn't know what was so wrong!"

This year, though, there was a first. "I need to speak to you in the hallway!" a little girl told her, hands on hips, which was a very expected reaction... if you're a teacher!

Seen and Heard and

I sat at my desk fiddling with my email and google drive attempting to pull up an agenda that someone had shared with me. We had just finished an all-sixth-grade meeting in my room and were scheduled to begin the ELA department meeting in about 10 minutes, so I was trying to project the discussion items on the screen for everyone to see. In frustration, I reread the email about the upcoming meeting, but there was no agenda attached. Then, I noticed the following message in small italics:

Be Seen. Be Heard. Be Brave.

This is a session for those who deeply desire to empower their students to be brave in the classroom. We will discuss how guilt, embarrassment, humiliation and shame hinder students from displaying bravery, achieving academic success and age appropriate independence while teacher modeled vulnerability can release students to be seen, be heard, and be brave in the classroom. Participants will review the work of Dr. Brené Brown, shame and vulnerability researcher from the University of Houston, and leave with ready to use classroom experiences and management tools for all age levels. All educators of students welcome!

It didn't seem like the right info for a department meeting. "What are we even doing in this meeting?" I asked irritably.

A few colleagues had filtered in early, and a teacher I didn't recognize walked over to my desk. "Hi," she said, "you must be the teacher whose room this is. I'm Michelle, and I'll be leading the session today."

That was... brave.

Listening Skills

"There are three things extreamly hard, Steel, a Diamond and to know one’s self." 

The quote of the day today was by Benjamin Franklin, and I thought it nicely set up the activity where the students had to choose a character trait of their own and tell a story illustrating it. In my 3rd period I had a student read the words out loud so that we could talk about it, just as I had in the previous two classes.

Before we could get to any kind of discussion, though, a puzzled voice called out, "I don't get it! That's only two things."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, "It's three: steel, a diamond, and to know yourself."

"That's two," he replied. "What's the other one?"

We went back and forth a couple of times, until I realized that he was sitting with his back to the screen. He wasn't reading the QOD; he was only listening to it. His next comment confirmed what I was beginning to suspect.

"Anyway," he scoffed, "stealing a diamond wouldn't necessarily be that hard."

Protective Gear

I'm not one who chooses her clothes the night before. Sort of like menu planning, I prefer to check the weather and see how I feel when it comes time to dress. Lately my strategy hasn't been as quick and easy as it once was. Perhaps the beginning of the school year with its different wardrobe considerations has thrown me off; perhaps the unfamiliarity of these cooler weather clothes I haven't worn all summer presents a challenge.

Whatever it might be, when I dressed in a pair of gray ankle-length chinos and a black t-shirt this morning, the issue of shoes was the problem. My Vans and sneakers looked odd, and I didn't care for the topsiders either. In exasperation I slipped on my flip flops which looked perfectly at home after a summer spent between my toes. I hesitated, because I don't usually wear them to school, but time was ticking and so I clip-clapped down the stairs and into my day.

It just so happened to be locker issue day, and so I found myself crammed into a narrow hallway with a a hundred sixth graders trying to get to their narrow little lockers and spin those combinations for the first time. In their eagerness, at least 5 kids trod heavily on my flip-flopped feet. A little while later there was a fire drill, and my unprotected toes were stepped on again and then again in the crush of kids in a ridiculously small evacuation area.

Tomorrow is picture day, and although I don't know exactly what I'm going to wear, you can bet my feet will be covered.