Reframing a Sprinkler Fail

I walked up to my garden today to make sure that everything was as set as it could be for a week away. I weeded and fertilized; inspired by Squanto, I applied some disgusting fish concoction on my three sisters mounds, and I have enormous hope that it will be just the thing. I also gave the whole plot a thorough watering using the sprinkler set-up I wrote of before, but also adding another watering spike I found tucked away in the back of the little shed I keep in the corner.

What may sound like a simple process, stick sprinkler in the ground, connect hose, was actually much more complicated. Several of my hoses have nozzles frozen on their threads, and so I had to pull out two short ones and hook them to the connector. Then it was a matter of adjusting the position, the spray, and the watering area, all while my other sprinkler was running.

Short story long? I got soaked! As I took several direct hits to the face, what an idiot I must have looked like to anyone on the other side of the chain link fence who cared to pay attention. At least the whole garden was getting watered.

And, once I was wet, I just plunged right in to the heart of the garden to do my fertilizing, becoming further drenched as I worked. Because I did not care: the sun was warm and a torpid little breeze just barely stirred the trees, and I had been sweating, but no more! Being wet was exhilarating, and I stayed even longer in the garden than I planned. There's a reason we used to play in the sprinkler when we were kids.

If the pool never opens this summer, I think I might have a lot of "watering" to do.

Hail Mary

A light drizzle could not deter me from my appointed destination this afternoon. My friend Mary had forwarded some information about the great Georgia peach road trip, and I had pre-ordered my half bushel right away, especially since the stop was at a garden center right up the hill from us.

From folding tables beneath a collapsible canopy, two young men efficiently worked to hawk and deliver their wares and in less than five minutes I had my freestones and was headed home. Oh, those 72 peaches were refrigerator-cold and hard as rocks, but I read my info card carefully, and with 6 dozen greenish-pink little fist-sized fruits clenched on the counter, I choose to be confident that they will be on their way to perfectly ripe in just a couple days.

Peaches, anyone?

Yay?

We usually celebrate the last day of school by going out to lunch for a lobster roll and then to a movie.

Well.

That's out.

I Love Nature! Except When I Don't

A flurry of wings and a raucous racket drew my attention to the sky this morning as I walked Lucy. Over my head, a crow pumped its pinions furiously, pusued by two very distraught robins. As the crow swooped closer, I saw a limp figure with downy feathers and tiny feet grasped tightly in its clutches. Clearly, it had stolen one of the robins' nestlings and they had given chase. All three birds landed on the peak of the roof to my right, the robins pestering the crow, the crow posturing in defense. Where the baby robin was, I couldn't see, but eventually the robins flew away and the crow hopped over the roofline and pecked murderously at its prize.

Those Were the Days!

The first house my parents ever owned was a 3 bedroom colonial in a Levitt community in South Jersey, right outside Philadelphia. It was actually pink when we moved in in 1966, but they painted it avocado green as the 70s approached.

There were many things I remember fondly about being a child in that house: the peach, pear, and apple trees in the backyard, the forsythia clubhouse on the side of the garage, sledding down the gentle slope of our street when it snowed, and the epic kickball games and variety shows that some of the older kids in the neighborhood organized, just to name a few.

Another great thing about the planned town where we lived was that every elementary school was in walking distance of every house in the subdivision (kids used to walk home for lunch-- that was an option along with buying or bringing!) AND every school had a public pool. Oh how excited we were about going to the pool at this time of year; it always opened in mid to late June, on the day after school got out for the summer.

My mom had a rule, though, it had to be at least 70 degrees for us to go. Looking back, especially as an adult, I think she was more than reasonable, but as kids it was excruciating waiting to see if the weather would cooperate. Once the pool was actually open, though, and we were enrolled in swimming lessons, that rule was gone.

My brother and I had to walk ourselves down to the pool in the early morning when lessons were scheduled. That wasn't so bad, but I can clearly remember wrapping my towel around me as tightly as it would go and watching my wet footprints on the cold sidewalk as I shivered, blue-lipped all the way home. 

Measure Twice, Cut Once

This week is professional learning for teachers, and in keeping with the times, all of it is remote, and most of it is asynchronous. That was not the case for the session I chose for this morning however. All of us who enrolled gathered via MS Teams from 10 to 11 to learn about the educational tool called Flipgrid.

Essentially a video discussion board, Flipgrid allows kids to record, enhance, and post their video replies to an assignment. In order to teach us about it, the instructors of our course this morning gave us 10 minutes to view a quick how-to and then post an introduction video of ourselves to the group. All we had to say was our names, where and what we teach, and an interesting fact about ourselves.

It was the fact that jammed me up. After three months at home, I couldn't think of anything on the fly that anyone might find the least bit engaging. As the timer ticked down, I swallowed, looked straight at my laptop camera, and hit record. Then I blathered some nonsense about my passport renewal which I had dropped in the mail right before joining the meeting.

My blood roared in my ears because I knew the class was waiting for me to post, and I hit the send button and clicked back to the meeting. Even as the instructors went over some basics, I was suffering remorse, thinking how dumb my video was.

As we moved through the teacher tools, participants were encouraged to post questions in the chat. I waited to see if my one burning question might be answered, but when it seemed we were near to the end of the presentation my fingers flew to the keyboard: Can students edit or delete their videos once they are posted?

"That's a good question," the instructor commented. "I don't know."

But I knew that my students would want to know, and at that moment, I completely understood why. My video was fine, but it felt risky to put it out there only to lose control of it. My anxiety was heightened by the structure of the assignment: if I had had more time, I could have created a recording I was more comfortable with.

To be honest? Flipgrid is a fun tool that I think kids will find engaging, but the biggest lesson of the day was that reminder before we ask our students to go public with their work and ideas, we must create a safe space and give them the time they need to feel good about their contribution.

Find a Penny, Pick it Up

Of all the institutions in this country, I never would have predicted that the Supreme Court, as it is currently constituted, would deliver the one piece of good news in the last three months. And yet, there they were, announcing 6-3 that the Title VII of the Civil Rights Act does indeed protect people who are LGBTQ.

It's small, but it's shiny, and I'm going to hold on to it.