The Marble Not Yet Carved

When we were teenagers, my brother and sister and I went through an Irving Stone period. Of all of his soapy biographical novels, I must say I liked The Agony and the Ecstasy, about the life of Michelangelo, best. Starting with the his time as an apprentice in Ghirlandaio's studio, a position he takes against his father's wishes, the book is the turbulent tale of Michelangelo's struggles to stay true to himself and become a successful artist.

One of the things that stuck with, me even after all these years, is when Michelangelo is trying to get a commission to carve a huge block of marble in Florence. The stone is famous for its size and quality, but was mis-cut when it was quarried, and no one thinks it can truly be salvaged. But Michelangelo believes that each statue is already in the stone; the sculptor need only recognize it and reveal it with his chisel. The result? His masterpiece, David.

I also learned what "contrapposto" meant from reading that part of the story: one shoulder forward, one knee bent, relaxed yet powerful, it's the perfect pose for strength and beauty. It's how Michelangelo solved the problem of the huge gouge in the side of that enormous block of marble.

As silly as it seems, I thought of Michelangelo's precept more than once this summer while painting rocks. In addition to some perfectly smooth and round stones, some oddly shaped ones found their way into our collection. Rock painting is not a craft for the impatient; it takes time for the base paint to dry as well as the details, and on such a small canvas, that means setting the little project aside for a while between stages. And if Michelangelo is to be believed, it also takes patience and a little imagination to let the rock reveal its true identity.


And that is exactly what I found in the case of Kermit, Pikachu, watermelon, Nemo, rugged heart, and ladybug.

But more importantly, the lesson for me as an educator, is to look for the masterpiece within each student and do my part to reveal it.

Stress Management

I was optimistic that I would be able to maintain an active routine, even as school started up again. I hoped that working from home would give me the time I needed to fit in plenty of daily exercise; so much so, that I actually increased the activity goal on my smart watch on Monday. And I was crushing it on Wednesday when I set a new personal record of 23 days in a row of closing my activity ring.

But tonight, when late thunderstorms put the kibosh on our plans to go to the pool at six, a quick glance at my watch confirmed what I already feared-- I wasn't going to make my goal today.

The last week has been stressful, filled with meetings and time to plan some very unfamiliar familiar tasks. "This is the first time in a long time when I haven't known what to expect from the first day of school," I confided to a colleague in an afternoon call.

I'm torn between cutting myself some slack and kicking my butt to make sure I get out there and get some exercise.

We'll see how it goes after tonight, but I have a hunch about what it's going to be. I don't know what's coming, but I just feel like I need to be ready for the fight, and that's going to take some working out!

The Stuff of Teaching

I have to say I expected the call.

After reading all summer long about teachers in other districts who were told to strip their rooms of any personal items so that more desks, at six foot intervals, could fit, and then hearing in our own school meetings that some staff would be asked to come clear parts of their room to allow more distant seats, I knew that I would be one of them.

I have had the same classroom since 1994, with the exception of a brief four month stint in "swing space" when they did a bit of renovation to our circa 1973 building. Over the years, as you can imagine, I have accumulated quite a few things to make the space more comfortable and efficient for my students and me, and I was quite sure that, at the very least, the reading chairs and pillows would have to go.

They warned us not to be surprised at the way our classrooms looked when we were finally allowed back into the building, briefly. The last time I was there was in June, and the place was frozen in time. The supply baskets on the tables, the paper in the recycling bin, the anchor chart on the board, and the calendar on my desk all looked exactly the way I left them on March 13.

But even though I expected a change, I was surprised: my desk was in the middle of the room, and they had moved several bookshelves full of books. Gone were the trapezoid tables, original to the building, and in my classroom since I started. They were replaced by 10 battered student desks in 2 rows, and all the miscellaneous baskets and bins that had been stored neatly away in just the perfect place were now stacked on the floor and my desk.

It took me a good hour and a half to move the furniture and put my other stuff away in my storage closet, a space I feel so very, very lucky to have. Who knows when I'll be back? Then again, who knows how much longer I'll be attached to that room at all?

Either way? 

I'm going to have some serious packing or unpacking to do.

Supply and Demand

Like many people I have been blowing up Amazon with orders for things I think will make the start of the school year a little less bumpy, and I picked up the box on my front porch without even looking at it when I came home from the pool, but a little while ago my neighbor knocked on the door. "Did you get a package from Amazon that had my name on it?" she asked.

I laughed and assured her that if that happened I would have brought the package over. "I did get a package today," I told her, "but it was for me!"

"That's funny," she said, "because you know how they send you a picture when they deliver? My picture was of your front porch." She swept her hand across the stoop. "I certainly don't have a basketball or umbrella by my door."

I apologized again, and she walked away, but as I closed the door, I tried to remember just what was in that box, and I gasped when I realized I had no idea. So I dashed over to the chair where the package still sat, upside down and unopened. Sure enough? It belonged to my neighbor.

I heard on the radio the other day that only 6 retailers made up almost 30% of the retail market share for the second quarter of 2020. Should I pause for a moment and let you guess who consumers turned to when the quarantine hit?

If you said Amazon, Walmart, Target, Home Depot, Costco, and Lowes, then you were right. With the exception of the grocery store and the drug store (oh, and the coffee roasting and pet supply places) those were really the only businesses I personally shopped and ordered from in April, May, and June. You too?

At any rate, as much as I was grateful for those big box places maintaining the supply chain, I've also come to resent their muscle flexing a little bit. With such incredible demand, customer service seems to be an after thought. For example, our local Target, Home Depot, and Lowes are very unreliable when it comes to inventory, and I'm not just referring to disinfectant wipes. Walmart seems to be pretty lax on mask wearing, and Costco has really long lines.

Amazon, too is unapologetic when it comes to stocking items or honoring prime delivery. But at least they send you a picture so you can track your own stuff down.

How's the Water?

"Oh, hey!" a neighbor greeted us as we signed in the pool this afternoon. "Done with your training already?"

I didn't have to look at my watch to answer. "It's 5 o"clock!" I laughed. "Yes!"

She turned to the other woman she had been chatting with while their children played together. "They're both teachers," she informed her, and suddenly it felt like all eyes were on us.

"How has it been going?" she asked.

I scanned the pool, reading the room, so to speak. "Great!" I answered with a little fist pump.

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Really?"

"Yep," I said. "We have a lot of great resources and the time to plan and figure things out. We are going to be ready to go when school starts."

She looked doubtful.

I looked at the sparkling pool water.

Then I waved, ready to set my stuff down and dive in.

Onward!

We should make all our meetings virtual! seemed to be the consensus this morning when we finished the first part of our all-day agenda an hour early. And it was nice to go out for a walk around the neighborhood at lunch and not worry about finishing the last of our meal even as the afternoon session got started. The chat feature on our virtual meeting platform turned out to be another blessing-- it was way better for questions, concerns, comments, and even jokes than any stack of post-it notes and a chart paper "parking lot" ever was or could hope to be. Plus, texting took the place of all those whispered side conversations and snarky asides.

BUT...

There were lots of people we never saw or heard from at all, and 5 hours sitting at the dining room table in front of a screen was uncomfortable. It was also hard to stay focused and engaged, especially when my camera was off and the kitchen was eight feet away.

My take away from today? Distance learning is going to be challenging for reasons I haven't really been considering, but there are going to be good things about it, too. 

A Doolittle Project

A friend of ours is working on her dissertation. She is getting close to finishing, and so to keep herself motivated, she is developing a list of things she's going to do as soon as it is signed, sealed, and defended. One of her favorite things to dream about is making a communication board for her dog, in the style of speech pathologist Christina Hunger who created just such a device for her own dog, Stella.

According to Hunger, Stella knows many words and is even demonstrating some pragmatic language skills by the way she selects and organizes the words. Some of the words are even qualitative, allowing Stella to express her opinion about the things she likes and loves and those she doesn't.

Even though I agree with our friend that it is every pet owner's dream to be able to know definitively what their animal is thinking, is it really necessary? Because really, don't we all think we know already? Who doesn't talk for their pets? To be honest, though, part of our understanding is because our pets are really good at communicating. Just today, when Lucy and I were on a long, hot walk, she pulled me insistently over to a car and stared longingly at the back door, as if to say Why don't we just drive home from here?

And when we talk about teaching our cats to use a communication board? Well, for Tibby anyway, there better be a cuss word or two, so she can tell us how she really feels.