Zine Machine

Years ago we were in Philly for a long weekend when we stepped into a coffee shop for breakfast. We made ourselves comfortable in overstuffed chairs that would have fit in perfectly at Central Perk on Friends. Yes, it was a hipster place, and we were totally digging the hipster vibe, when I spotted an old cigarette vending machine across the room.

It was so retro, and I hadn't seen its like in a long time, so I went over to check it out. Inside were copies of self-published Zines, little mini-magazines by local artists and writers. I dug in my pocket for some change, bought a couple, and was utterly charmed as I read. "We need a zine machine at school!" I told Heidi.

Back at school, for a while anyway, I pushed to find an available vending machine that we could use for student writing, but as is the way of many of my good ideas, it just never happened. And now, for the last assignment of the year, I have borrowed a feature published on NPR (and found by my colleague Matt)-- a little how-to cartoon about creating a zine. I just know the kids who do it are going to make something special! Now about that vending machine...

Wardrobe Dilemma

"You have a farmer's tan," Heidi told me, giving my outfit of tank top and shorts the once over.

I was not offended, but I knew it was not a compliment. The days I spent in my tie dye t-shirt working in the garden last weekend had literally left a mark.

"So you don't like the tank top?" I asked.

"It's fine, but the tan lines have got to go," she answered.

"So I have to wear it all the time or none of the time?" I clarified, as we walked through the 90 degree heat. "I'm going to need some more tank tops!"

Do Not Open Until...

One of the last online assignments I offered to my students was a letter to their future selves. If we must be distant in space, why not consider a distant, or not so distant, future? At least that's what I thought, and so I provided an organizer, a review of friendly letters, and the promise that any student who submitted a final draft would get their letter sealed in an envelope with a reminder of when to open it.

Today was the day that I did the grunt work of printing letters and labels and stuffing and stamping envelopes. I was happy to have received 35 letters, which is a little under 45% of my students. Heidi was an invaluable assistant, stamping and stuffing, as I printed, addressed envelopes, and added the Do Not Open Until... date. As she worked, she was quite charmed by the content of each letter, so much so, that she read every single one of them out loud to me, lending an audible voice to those very earnest writers, and reminding me how funny and wise they are.

It was a wonderful hour or so! And at the end we had a stack of letters and the anticipation that all the writers would not only feel the thrill of getting mail in the next day or two, but also some time in the future, have that sweet experience of revisiting their former selves, and a reminder of who they were and who they hoped to be.

Rainmaker

I love watering my garden. I enjoy paying attention to each and every plant individually for those few seconds the shower of water is on them. But when it's dry, as it has been ever since I got my vegetables in, I worry that my plants are not getting a proper soaking.

I've had a few sprinklers and other watering systems over the year. Should I be embarrassed to report that I am usually drenched when I leave my garden? Irrigation design is not my forte (yet! See that growth mindset?). Anyhow, the other day at the garden center, a sweet purple number caught my eye and I decided to give a sprinkler another try.

Today was the day when I placed that sprayer in the corner of the beds, dragged my matching purple hose to the hydrant, and let her squirt. And with a very few adjustments, soon the majority of the garden was being well-watered. The sidewalk on the other side of the fence was also remaining dry, which I'm sure all the passers by appreciated.

It was a good set up, but not perfect. So I dug up a splitter, hooked up another hose, and did a little manual supplementary watering. Between the sprinkler and my TLC, everything was damp and looking happy when I left a little while later.

And now that everything is all set? I'm sure those predicted thunderstorms will show up.

I Wish You Well

To round out the final week of the 100 Day Writing Challenge, I created a "Stay-at-Home Wellness Board" for my students with the directions to choose one of the activities each day and then write about it. The idea came to me as I considered all the kids whose profound boredom comes through in their writing, both explicitly and implicitly and examined my own coping strategies and those of the few kids who seemed to be fine despite everything. I noticed that there are things we do consistently, if not every day that help keep us regulated and well, and I wanted to challenge all of my students to try those practices.

So far, there have been mixed results. A few kids have done it, many more have opted out, and it's in situations like this, that I feel the shortcomings of distance learning. I learned long ago that I can't make students do anything; my job is to offer engaging educational opportunities and encourage kids to pursue them. It's the encouragement part that really suffers when we're so far apart.

Here is the board:

Pivot Point

There was a thread of anxiety that ran through every single one of my meetings today. Even as we work to organize the end of this pandemic-interrupted school year and scramble to plan the next amid so many variables and uncertainties, our nation is in turmoil. Whether or not a straight line can be drawn from the unrest to our personal lives, no one I spoke to today was not unsettled by the events unfolding a few miles away and all over the country.

Everyone's a total wreck.

Personally, I feel weighed down by a heavy, heavy sense of history. I imagine how future documentaries will breezily summarize these days, these very days, 10, 20, 50, 100 years from now, and while I am still around to watch them, the lump in my throat as I relive them 60 minutes at a time.

Will I feel distress, disbelief,  renewed outrage, nostalgia, or all of the above?

Honestly?

I don't care, as long as in the end I am happily reminded of all the lessons we learned and the positive changes we made as a result of our this trauma.

I Feel You, Kid

During this time away from the school building, our team has been vigilantly tracking student engagement through participation, and last week we all noticed a precipitous drop in assignment completion. Our principal assured us that all the other teams at all the other grade levels had documented the same decline, and it's easy to rationalize:

Memorial Day, warm summer weather, distance learning fatigue,

and just a strong sense that this?

should.
all.
be.
over.

We know, because we feel it, too.