Who Was That Masked Man?

When I was a kid watching TV, it always seemed kind of silly when people couldn't recognize the Lone Ranger say, or Zorro, or Robin, or even Batman, just because he was wearing a mask that covered part of his face. The same was true for all sorts of burglars and bank robbers on every sitcom from The Flintstones to I Love Lucy. On those shows, secret identities were always safe; that suspension of disbelief was just part of the price for those 30 minutes of diversion.

These days, everyone is wearing a mask (at least around here). It's required in all inside public places, and it's becoming a lot more common for folks to wear them outside, too. I was wearing my mask this morning in line at the farmers market, when a fellow shopper called my name. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"Pretty good!" I said, but just then the vendor called me forward, and we waved good-bye. As I ordered my produce, I wondered who I had just been talking to. I think it was an English teacher from another middle school in our district, someone I have known slightly for many years, both because we're in the same discipline, but also because we have a mutual friend. I'm not a hundred percent it was her, though, and I'm impressed she recognized me.

Later, we were out for a walk with the dog, unmasked, when a couple of women with face coverings hailed us from down the block. We waved back, a little uncertainly. As they neared us, and began talking, we saw realized that it was a former neighbor and her daughter. We know them pretty well, but we haven't seen them in at least a year, probably two, and it took a few awkward seconds to figure out who they were.

I have a feeling experiences like those two are going to become ever more common in the months ahead, but I also think we're all going to develop a new skill set to more quickly recognize people with only a partial view of their faces. And when that happens?

Super heros and bad guys alike are going to have to rethink their disguises!

The Wrong Side of the Pike

My goal was to walk over 4 miles today, leaving from home and pushing into at least a little unexplored territory. The challenge was not the distance but rather the route, because after 5 months at home it seems like we have walked everywhere. As such, I had a notion to journey beyond one of our usual boundaries and see what that neighborhood held.

There were a few surprises, most of them to do with real estate development. Among these wonders of gentrification were mcmansions popping up like mushrooms, and newer houses down very long driveways behind much older homes, suggesting that several somebodies sold their back yards. It's hard not to judge, even as we marvel at the value of property in this tiny county we call home.

Crossing back over the pike, we walked a winding street through a most unappealing apartment complex. The grass needed mowing almost as much as the windows and doors needed painting. Litter lined the sidewalk, and the tall weeds growing through the cracks in the pavement suggested that even the county had forsaken caretaking the public property adjoining these homes.

Because that's what they were to someone.

To Have and to Hold

My friend and CLT colleague, Mary, and I have been kicking around ideas for our students' writing notebooks. What will they look like in this time of distance learning? Typically, we start the year with a kind of Unit 0: How to Create a Writer's Notebook, which functions both as a get to know you community building tool and a practical introduction to some of the requirements and other nuts and bolts of the course.

This year, we wondered if we should even have a notebook at all, and if so, would it make sense to have it be virtual. To that end, we researched several options, many involving teacher-created templates using a slides application.

But today, as I dutifully continued my online course, one point they made resonated with me. Everything doesn't have to be online. Students can work with pencil and paper and show you on camera, or upload images of their work.

And suddenly it became clear to me that we should have real notebooks. That way kids could work in them without splitting the screen on their devices (or even using their devices at all), and it would offer another mode of expression that would benefit some learners. Plus, everyone would have something concrete to hold onto in these weird, virtual times, and beyond.

Our school is organizing material and supply pick-ups for students before the year begins, and if we have our way, there will be a writing notebook for every sixth grader included in the package.

The Challenges of Asynchronicity

This morning was so dark and rainy that I turned on all the lights in the living room, and with nothing happening outside, we decided it was time to start a 10 hour webinar on improving our online teaching. This particular offering was recorded by educators from the Stanford Online High School (Yes, that Stanford. The place is a grade 7-12 model school for education and research. It is completely online.) and provided free to teachers.

From the start of the course the content was no-nonsense: well-organized, clearly delivered, and of course relevant to the situation we find ourselves in. Were there bells and whistles, fun and games, interactivity? No, for although the organizers were surprised by the thousands of people participating live, not to mention the many times more that number who would watch the recording, there's only so much you can do in a one-off situation like that.

Still, we wanted to learn, and the fact that this experience would fulfill a big portion of our independent professional learning requirement, made it all the more important to us. But then... we paused to get paper for notes, and a little later we logged in to see what our district requirements would be. The we stopped to talk about the content, and then take the dog out, go to the bathroom, get a drink of water, and order lunch. As much as we wanted to watch, there were just too many other things competing with that recording.

Which was the biggest lesson of the day. 

Queen of Tarts

A happy byproduct of my refusal to throw away even a little bit of my sourdough starter has been the pastry recipe I adapted from Jacques Pepin. I have long used his pate brisée as the base of all my fruit galettes, because it is so simple and so good. A cup and a half of flour, a stick of butter, a generous pinch each of salt and sugar, and then cold water to bring the dough together will yield an easy to handle, buttery pastry the consistency of pie dough.

But, cut the flour to a cup, grate into it your stick of cold butter, and add 1/2 cup of sourdough starter, straight from the fridge, and the result is amazing: tender and flaky, more like puff pastry than pie pastry. Every few days or so, I throw together a batch, chill it for several hours or overnight, and then make either a sweet or savory galette. So far we have had a few with peaches and blueberries, one with Swiss chard, caramelized onions, and fontina, and this morning I made 8 individual tarts with cherry tomato sauce, rosemary, and basil to share with our neighbors.

I have plans for a summer squash version, perhaps with fresh thyme, savory and cheddar, another one with berries and cream cheese, and maybe roasted eggplant with tahini and mint. And when fall gets here? Oh boy! In addition to apples (of course), I foresee wild mushroom, butternut squash with goat cheese and sage, all sorts of greens, and more finding their way to a palette of pastry.

"I just want to eat tart every day!" I told Heidi at the pool recently.

"Then you better keep swimming, Babe," she replied, quite practically.

And I did! But what am I going to do when the pool closes?

Insider Trading

Our neighbor was bursting with excitement when we ran into her walking the dogs this morning "I got the DNA results back for Benny!" she told us.

And before we could even say Cool! she continued. "I'll tell you what they are, but you can't tell anyone. The big reveal is tonight."

We knew that a group of her buddies had chipped in on the test as a birthday gift earlier in the summer, and it made sense that they would get together to share the results. 

We looked at Ben: 85 pounds, short white hair with a few brown patches, huge gray eyes in a giant block-shaped head, and a big smile. "Can we guess?" I asked. 

"Okay!" she answered, "but you'll never get it. There are four breeds."

"Pitty?" Heidi guessed.

"Yep!" she answered. "We expected that, right?"

"But those eyes!" I said.

"Great Pyrenees!" she revealed. "And then there was Boxer, and... Husky! Can you believe it?"

We agreed that he was an unexpected mix of mutts, and patting him on his Great Pyreepityoxerusky head, we went on our way.

A little while later we got a text from the dog friends. We are going to find out today what breeds make up our favorite gentleman Mr. Ben, it read. Come on by my house at 6:30 and participate in the best guess contest. He has four breeds, so bring your four guesses in a sealed envelope.

I looked at Heidi and laughed. "I think we can win this one!"

Day Shift

I spent the day somewhere between Monday and Tuesday. Summer vacation can do that, especially one with so few breaks in the break. Every day blends thoughtlessly into the next.

Now that I'm pushing sixty, I have a couple of those 7 compartment pill and vitamin organizers, and they ground me in the calendar at least once a day. Oh, it's Monday again, I told myself as I chewed my gummy multivite. But then I forgot.

Floating in the pool later I mentally checked my fluid agenda. Soooo... Teachers "report" 2 weeks from today? Or was it yesterday? And students start 4 weeks from... today? Tomorrow?

In the end I was certain we have roughly 2 weeks to get ready to spend, more or less, 2 weeks getting ready for whatever is going to happen in around 4 weeks.

I'm on it!

Never mind the obvious follow up question: how long will we have to get ready for the next thing?