Dog Talk

Our first dog, Isabel, was well acquainted with the phrase No dogs allowed on account of all the school fields and other places we walked past that looked so inviting to a fun-loving dog like herself but were forbidden. Whenever she would tug the leash or look longingly at such green space as if to say Wouldn't that be a good idea? A simple No dogs allowed would snap her back to reality.

I would wager that our current dog, Lucy, also knows that phrase but chooses to ignore it. She is much more willful than her predecessor, and her response to No dogs allowed is more along the lines of la la la la I don't hear you. 

Unfortunately for Lucy, there is a sentence that she cannot ignore these days. Whenever we pass one of the several dog parks where she spent many happy hours before the pandemic, all we have to say when she pulls toward the padlocked gates is It's closed, and then like Isabel before her, she droops just a bit, before trotting resolutely on.

Just Hair

I went to the grocery store and got my hair cut today. In other times, neither of those would be big news, but these times are not those. Although I will say it is beginning to feel normal to be aware of and step away from anyone closer than six feet.

It is not beginning to feel anywhere near normal to wear a mask, however, and in the hair salon I worried as the stylist snipped around my ears, concerned that she might accidentally clip the elastic. In fact I was so preoccupied with the ear bands that I barely noticed when she nicked my neck with the straight razor, and it wasn't until the end, when she sent me out into the world with wet hair (no hair dryers allowed), and a blue bandaid on my neck, that I realized my mask was full of my own hair.

I know I wear the mask to protect others from me, but the sprinkle of fine blond hair that floated away on the wind as I uncovered my nose and mouth was a confirmation and a reminder that we all must safeguard each other.

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: