Shetland

"Is your peerie lad givin' you trouble?" Detective Inspecter Jimmy Perez asked the wife of a person of interest.

I hit pause. "What does peerie even mean?" I asked Heidi. We were watching the 2nd episode in the latest season of Shetland, a BBC One series based on the classically British crime novels of Ann Cleeves. We stumbled upon the show whilst channel surfing early in the summer, and we have been hooked ever since by the rugged isolated beauty of the land which is mirrored in the rugged isolated integrity of the main character and his team.

So much so, that we have begun planning our some day trip there, with stops in Scotland and Norway, since the islands lie in the North Sea right between the two. But before we go, we have to master the language a wee bit more, do we nae? Peerie? Means small, like the peerie ponies and sheep dogs that bear the name of the islands, and is a synonym for wee, but I'm sure there are some subtle differences that we'll learn when we're there.

Truth in Imitation

This year we are approaching personal narrative through the lens of food memoir on the theory that it might be more concrete for the sixth graders and also inspire them to write on a novel topic rather than rely on those 2-3 experiences they describe year after year. (You know them-- the bike crash, the outdoor lab overnight camping trip, the time they fell off the monkey bars and broke a bone, the loss of a grandparent).

To springboard into the unit we are using Knoxville, TN, by Nikki Giovanni, a short poem full of sensory detail, food, and a strong sense of place. After we read it, students think of a beloved place of their own, brainstorm details, and write a poem using Knoxville as the model. As a fellow writer in the class, I went through the process and composed my own poem.

Here it is:

Acadia National Park, Maine

I always like summer best--
You can pack a snack bag
and roadtrip 12 hours
and listen to audio books
and play name that tune
until you smell the Maine,
fir and pine and balsam,
and eat lobster every night
and wild blueberries
you picked yourself
and gingerbread
and popovers
and hear the gulls call
and the waves roar
at Thunder Hole
and climb all 26 mountains
crossing warm granite ledges
with cool breezes
and swim in icy ponds
under impossibly blue skies
and wake up every day
with your whole family
just like you did
when you were little.

Tails on the Trail

This morning we took the dogs for a quick hike up at Great Falls, the national park that offers some word class hiking along the Potomac River Gorge, just 30 minutes north of Washington, DC. The weather was sunny and dry, if rather warm for late September, and I was surprised by how few people we met along the trail. We did see an exceptionally speedy box turtle and a couple of young deer, all of which raised wonderment in Lucy and her buddy, Beckett. The ranger on the horse, though? Well that just raised an alarm, and we were a bit abashed as we pulled our barking dogs off the side of the trail. The ranger had a bit of a sour look as they passed, but horse didn't seem to mind at all.

Taco Cat

One of the fun things about spending a few weeks in Rochester, MN this summer was the street festival that was held every Thursday. Music, food, and craft vendors lined the streets across from the Mayo Clinic and just a few blocks from where we were staying.

My mom really enjoyed the cauliflower tacos that one of the local restaurants was serving, so much so that we set out to develop our own recipe. We started with all the components she liked-- cauliflower (of course), corn, quick-pickled cabbage slaw, tortilla strips, and a creamy salsa squirted over the top, and from there built our own versions of each: a little more spice, a little more acid, a little less heat, a little more greenage.

We enjoyed those tacos more than once while we were there, and tonight when I made them for our dinner here in Virginia, I was missing my mom and the time we spent together this summer in Minnesota.

Free Lunch

At the end of the third week of school, the sixth graders finally got their iPads today, and let me tell you-- it was like a holiday! They were all very excited and appreciative, and the goodwill engendered by handing out free electronic devices worth hundreds of dollars lasted all day. Oh, in the not too distant future there will be scuffles and confrontations over the distractions that their tablets are, but today? We were like Santa on Christmas Eve, which was a good way to spend the Friday after Back-to-school-night.

Tough Audience

Years ago, my sister asked me how my new students were. "Well," I answered, "they are smaller than the kids last year, and not quite as quick thinkers." I paused. "I guess they're kind of short and stupid!"

I was joking, of course, but now that my 27th  Back-to-school-night has come and gone, I've decided that, like their children, parents, too have a group identity. Some years, it's kind of a reunion-- the parents know each other, some of them know me, and there is a pervasive party vibe. Other years, the parents seem to really get the program and what we are trying to do with their kids in a writing workshop. They are excited and engaged by the possibilities I present. Some years there are a lot of characters that stand out-- eccentric parents, outspoken parents, one year I even had some drunk parents. Those make for good stories to swap the next day at lunch.

But this year? It was very low key. No one laughed at my little jokes, and no one had any questions about my presentation. A couple told me that their kids like the class, and that's always nice to hear, but in general, it was kind of drudgery for all involved. I'd like to blame it on the information overload in the 20 minute video we all have to watch at the beginning; it doesn't set a very inviting tone, but to be honest? I've overcome it in the past.

I think these parents are just tall and boring.

Means and Ends

Our staff meeting today involved walking around, doing math activities, pairing up with a stranger, answering random questions, and then describing the math experience.

Oh, I did fine. I played Challenge 24 for a little while, high-fived the first person I made eye contact with (who happened to be the new social worker), and told her that, as an introvert, I would prefer to be rich with no friends rather than poor with lots of friends. She raised an eyebrow at that, but I got her back when we had to talk about our math experience.

"I didn't do it," she confessed.

"You better have a good reason!" I mock scolded her, and we laughed.

"I actually do," she said.

"Let's hear it! We have 30 seconds to kill!" I joked.

She told me about an undocumented parent whose child, a student at our school, is quite ill. This mom doesn't have insurance and was seeking help. "She's not eligible for anything because she's undocumented," she finished.

"What about the kid?" I asked. "Isn't he or she a citizen?"

Her eyes lit up. "My gosh!" she said. "That might be the answer. Although, the way things are now, if Mom's applying for documentation, she can't have any record of social services."

Right then, time was up, and we were told to high five each other again, say how amazing we were, and return to our seats.