What is this day like? I asked myself as I walked about in 73 degrees in January. The light was a dull winter gray, the trees were bare, and the grass was dry and brown. Winter in the tropics? Would be greener and a little more lush. Early spring? Would be brighter and more verdant. As it was, the weather today was nothing like any I can remember, and I find that a bit unsettling.
Saturday, January 11, 2020
Friday, January 10, 2020
Brain Break
One of our squirrelier sixth graders was particularly restless today.
It was his last core class of the week after Winter Break and we were working on organizing and outlining our argument essays. About halfway through the workshop, he stood up, tucked his black turtleneck into his black track pants and pulled the waist up as high it would go. Then he bent to roll up the cuffs to mid-calf.
The kid is natural clown, and he had the attention of the whole class. "How do you like it?" he asked in a warbly falsetto.
"Only you," I told him, "could rock that look."
"Do you really like it?" he asked, still in that silly voice.
"Oh yes," I answered. "But?"
He looked at me; it was I who had his attention now.
"Now that you've rocked the outfit, let's see you rock the outline."
He gave that one some thought. "I can do that," he said and sat down at his table and resumed working.
It was his last core class of the week after Winter Break and we were working on organizing and outlining our argument essays. About halfway through the workshop, he stood up, tucked his black turtleneck into his black track pants and pulled the waist up as high it would go. Then he bent to roll up the cuffs to mid-calf.
The kid is natural clown, and he had the attention of the whole class. "How do you like it?" he asked in a warbly falsetto.
"Only you," I told him, "could rock that look."
"Do you really like it?" he asked, still in that silly voice.
"Oh yes," I answered. "But?"
He looked at me; it was I who had his attention now.
"Now that you've rocked the outfit, let's see you rock the outline."
He gave that one some thought. "I can do that," he said and sat down at his table and resumed working.
Thursday, January 9, 2020
Opening the Basket
One of my not-so-binding New Year's resolutions is to use the food in my pantry and freezer before I go out and buy more food to sit in indefinite storage, or at least by the end of 2020. In addition to the staples, we have a lot of weird stuff, some of which has been given to us, some of which I bought for a one-time recipe or forgotten reason, and some of which I have no idea of its provenance. As such, committing fully to the concept would mean that every day would be like an episode of Chopped.
Still, so far, it's been going okay, and tonight I'm using some artichokes and an eggplant and tomato thing along with shrimp, salad greens and pasta to create a version of our go-to meal of the fall: a hot and cold pasta salad with butter, lemon, and a protein. I have no doubt it will be edible, although probably not super delicious. I guess it could be worse, though. I set aside the bonito flakes, rose petal jam and chickpea flour for another day.
Still, so far, it's been going okay, and tonight I'm using some artichokes and an eggplant and tomato thing along with shrimp, salad greens and pasta to create a version of our go-to meal of the fall: a hot and cold pasta salad with butter, lemon, and a protein. I have no doubt it will be edible, although probably not super delicious. I guess it could be worse, though. I set aside the bonito flakes, rose petal jam and chickpea flour for another day.
Wednesday, January 8, 2020
Language Barrier
If there is a self-checkout at a store, then I usually prefer to use it. If Heidi is with me, we have the process down to an art: I scan and she bags; I pay while she loads the cart, and we are on our way in no time. Tonight I was shopping solo, but my hand basket did not have very many items, and so I naturally stepped up to the open station and set my groceries on the shelf.
Running my fingers over the touch screen, I accidentally activated the Spanish language option, and once I was in it, I could not find a way to exit. The store employee who was assigned to the area was occupied with another customer, so I made the decision to muddle through, despite the fact that I have never taken a lesson of Spanish in my life. I had my familiarity with the process going for me, plus all the parent meetings with Spanish translation I've sat in on over the last 27 years, and so early on, I was confident of my success.
I entered my número de teléfono to avoid scanning my shopper's card, and from there I quickly scanned my items. Hearing the transactions and discounts described in a robotic voice in Spanish was a bit disconcerting, and I looked around furtively to see if anyone was paying any attention to the blond Anglo lady checking out in Español.
Seeing no interest, I continued emptying my basket until I got to the last item I had, cilantro. The barcode on the twist tie did not scan, and I frowned as I looked at the options on the screen. I punched the big square that read sin código de barras and was presented with an alphabetical list of produce, in Spanish of course. I navigated to the Cs, but cilantro? was not there either in picture or word. Flustered, I swiped quickly through the alphabet without any luck. Fortunately, I recognized the back button, and by luck was able to navigate to the screen where you can type in the name of your purchase. C-I-L brought up hierba cilantro and with relief I entered the numero, 1.
After that, it was screen memory that allowed me to check out and tap my watch to pay for my groceries. As I lifted my bags to go, the attendant came to remove my basket and clear the station for the next customer.
"Esto es tuyo?" he said holding up the phone I had left behind.
"Oh my gosh, yes!" I answered. "Thank you!"
"Uh, you're welcome?" he said, slightly confused.
Walking away, I was so relieved that the transaction was over, but my mind returned to all the interactions I have had at school with parents who do not speak English. We do what we can to accommodate them, but now I had a tiny, firsthand view into how stressful it must be to navigate the whole world in a language you do not speak.
Running my fingers over the touch screen, I accidentally activated the Spanish language option, and once I was in it, I could not find a way to exit. The store employee who was assigned to the area was occupied with another customer, so I made the decision to muddle through, despite the fact that I have never taken a lesson of Spanish in my life. I had my familiarity with the process going for me, plus all the parent meetings with Spanish translation I've sat in on over the last 27 years, and so early on, I was confident of my success.
I entered my número de teléfono to avoid scanning my shopper's card, and from there I quickly scanned my items. Hearing the transactions and discounts described in a robotic voice in Spanish was a bit disconcerting, and I looked around furtively to see if anyone was paying any attention to the blond Anglo lady checking out in Español.
Seeing no interest, I continued emptying my basket until I got to the last item I had, cilantro. The barcode on the twist tie did not scan, and I frowned as I looked at the options on the screen. I punched the big square that read sin código de barras and was presented with an alphabetical list of produce, in Spanish of course. I navigated to the Cs, but cilantro? was not there either in picture or word. Flustered, I swiped quickly through the alphabet without any luck. Fortunately, I recognized the back button, and by luck was able to navigate to the screen where you can type in the name of your purchase. C-I-L brought up hierba cilantro and with relief I entered the numero, 1.
After that, it was screen memory that allowed me to check out and tap my watch to pay for my groceries. As I lifted my bags to go, the attendant came to remove my basket and clear the station for the next customer.
"Esto es tuyo?" he said holding up the phone I had left behind.
"Oh my gosh, yes!" I answered. "Thank you!"
"Uh, you're welcome?" he said, slightly confused.
Walking away, I was so relieved that the transaction was over, but my mind returned to all the interactions I have had at school with parents who do not speak English. We do what we can to accommodate them, but now I had a tiny, firsthand view into how stressful it must be to navigate the whole world in a language you do not speak.
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Iconoclasts
Over the years, Heidi and I have had a lot of cats between us. A casual reckoning sets the number somewhere around 20, and as such, we consider ourselves experienced cat people. Even so, the two we have right now, Tibby and Milo, are such non-conformists that they continue to surprise us.
For example, where other cats we have had have ignored most toys, tunnels, scratching posts, and other cat paraphernalia, these two love anything we ever get that was meant for cats, including the outdoor stroller that I got for my birthday a couple of years ago. Whenever it is out, they use it as an extra place to hang out, presumably waiting for a stroll.
And Tibby loves water. She stalks the drips in the shower stall and even got in the tub and waded through Heidi's bath once. And both she and Milo love the fireplace. The scrunch of the newspaper and clatter of kindling has them come on the run, and even the most crackly of logs cannot scare them from their spot on the hearth, in fact that's where Tibby is right now.
Milo, on the other hand, is haunting the kitchen at the moment, hoping that one of us will put food in his bowl so that he can turn his nose up at it, the skinniest Maine Coon in the world.
Even though they are not litter mates, something there was that bonded the two of them before they came to us as kittens, and they clearly love each other. They cuddle and chirp and wrestle and play, quite content to spend their days together. It's just gravy if we happen to be home, too.
For example, where other cats we have had have ignored most toys, tunnels, scratching posts, and other cat paraphernalia, these two love anything we ever get that was meant for cats, including the outdoor stroller that I got for my birthday a couple of years ago. Whenever it is out, they use it as an extra place to hang out, presumably waiting for a stroll.
And Tibby loves water. She stalks the drips in the shower stall and even got in the tub and waded through Heidi's bath once. And both she and Milo love the fireplace. The scrunch of the newspaper and clatter of kindling has them come on the run, and even the most crackly of logs cannot scare them from their spot on the hearth, in fact that's where Tibby is right now.
Milo, on the other hand, is haunting the kitchen at the moment, hoping that one of us will put food in his bowl so that he can turn his nose up at it, the skinniest Maine Coon in the world.
Even though they are not litter mates, something there was that bonded the two of them before they came to us as kittens, and they clearly love each other. They cuddle and chirp and wrestle and play, quite content to spend their days together. It's just gravy if we happen to be home, too.
Monday, January 6, 2020
Heavy
With acknowledgement to the folks over at Two Writing Teachers, for the last 13 years on our first day back from Winter Break, my students have selected One Little Word to capture something they want in the New Year. The assignment is revealing about each individual, but the congregate collection of words is also somewhat revealing about the group, or maybe even the times.
For example, this year, a full 20 percent of the students chose the word "balance" as something they want in their lives. In their explanations they wrote such things as:
For example, this year, a full 20 percent of the students chose the word "balance" as something they want in their lives. In their explanations they wrote such things as:
I choose balance because I can’t balance my homework with what I do at home. Sometimes I need to do my homework when I wake up, or late at night.
My one one word for 2020 is balance. I sit in front of a screen a lot now because I got a computer. What I would like to do it get outside more and read more books.
Balance also can apply to sleep because if I get more sleep I will have more energy so moving through the day will be easier.
Having balance is important so I don’t have to stress and try doing 2 things at once.
Balance would help me keep track and make time for things I need to take priority on to keep me stable.
To me, balance means having time to do other things and try new things without having to cut something daily you do.
I should make a schedule with a time when I have free time, food time, shower time and chores time. That’s why I want to be more balanced in 2020 or the rest of my life.
it’s hard to balance all of this struggle and pain on this thing we call lifeAs an adult, I value balance greatly, and I know how hard it is to find and keep, but it makes me a little sad that kids of 11 and 12 are having the same struggle.
Sunday, January 5, 2020
Too Close to See
I suggested an audiobook to my mother, to help us wile away the long hours in the hospital, and she agreed. "Ann Patchett has a new novel," I told her, "and the book is narrated by Tom Hanks."
"That sounds good," she said, and I promptly downloaded it to my phone, but we never had the chance to listen together. Later, when I was driving back and forth from the Cities to fetch first my brother, then my sister, then my aunt from the airport to my mom's side, I listened to the first few hours myself.
The Dutch House is a story of siblings devoted to each other through the loss of their parents, a tale perhaps so close to home that it wasn't until this afternoon, when I wept not at the ending, but because it was over, that I realized how resonant it was.
"That sounds good," she said, and I promptly downloaded it to my phone, but we never had the chance to listen together. Later, when I was driving back and forth from the Cities to fetch first my brother, then my sister, then my aunt from the airport to my mom's side, I listened to the first few hours myself.
The Dutch House is a story of siblings devoted to each other through the loss of their parents, a tale perhaps so close to home that it wasn't until this afternoon, when I wept not at the ending, but because it was over, that I realized how resonant it was.
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