Adapt or...

It's a cliche to say that the beach is relaxing, and yet, being here for Thanksgiving seemed to give permission to relax some of the Thanksgiving traditions we have had for so long. 

For one thing, we started making and eating our pies and desserts early in the week to avoid that feeling of must eat, even after one of the heaviest meals of the year. The menu for our holiday feast was streamlined, a few favorites left out or simplified in the interest of saving time and being able to enjoy the amazing weather-- 70+ degrees in November! The parade was no longer de rigueur viewing-- why watch the rain in Herald Square when the sun was shining on the ocean right outside our door? And Black Friday? Well, I almost got away without spending a cent, but the seafood market was right there as my sister and I were pedaling our beach cruisers, and shrimp tacos instead of pasta night seemed like another wise modification. 

And who knows? This is our second Thanksgiving at the beach. That in itself may be a new tradition.

Thanksgivingtide

We passed what must have been a family celebrating Thanksgiving on the beach this morning. About 18 or 20 folks, of at least three generations, some dressed up, some playing in the sand, many wearing masks, and all standing a responsible distance apart, smiled and chatted in a warm November sun. A light breeze blew off the tumbling sea, the surf still up from the storm that passed through last night. There was no turkey or dressing or cranberry sauce, but their gratitude at safely gathering in these treacherous times, and in such a beautiful place, clearly matched my own.

Oysters and Pea Crabs

It started with a conversation about dinner. "Should I get some oysters for tonight?" Emily asked. From there we discussed whether they should be raw or Rockafellered. A quick call to the seafood market revealed that oysters were only available by the pint or in the shell, and for our purposes the jar would not work. 

"Let's get an oyster knife and learn how to shuck them!" I suggested. "Wouldn't that be a fun family vacation project?" 

So Emily got the oysters, and I went to ACE Hardware to get the knife and a pair of gloves. "Of course the knife will go right through these," the guy at the store shook his head as he pointed out the gloves. "They'll give you a better grip, but it's a dangerous, dirty business to open oysters. Better to go to a raw bar."

I thanked him for his help and ignored his advice. Upon arriving home I showed the new gear to Victor. "Are you up for learning to shuck oysters?" I asked, and before too long he was doing some research on YouTube. Dinner time found the two of us in the kitchen poking and prying and twisting and popping and scraping. It wasn't long before we got the hang of it, and pretty soon we had a plate of six oysters on the half shell.

"This one has a little crab in it!" Victor said as he popped open the next one. Sure enough, a tiny round crab the size of his thumbnail feebly waved its eight legs. Treat was working on his computer at the table, and he quickly searched the creature as Victor and Emily took pictures. 

It turns out that it was a pea crab, which is a parasite that invades the oyster when they are both larva and attaches itself to the gills, eating part of the oyster's food as it filters through. The crab does not harm the oyster. "Will it harm us?" we wondered.

"You can eat them, and, listen to this," Treat read, "they were said to be one of George Washington's favorites.

We set the little crab aside and continued shucking oysters. Two more of them had crabs in them, and the three tiny crustaceans wiggled weakly as we debated what to do with them. It seemed cruel to throw them away, and even though the ocean was just steps from our door, they couldn't survive alone in the sea; it was most likely they would become some other animal's meal. I sat down for a moment and pulled out my phone to read up on these pea crabs. According to my research, they were actually a sign that the oysters were fresh and healthy. Not only edible, they were reportedly delicious either raw or fried.

With that, I got a little skillet and tossed some butter in it. When it was sizzling, I apologized to the little crabs and tossed them in. They turned from gray to a delicate pink, sort of like shrimp. A sprinkle of salt a and a squeeze of lemon later, I plated them in the center of a small fiesta ware plate and showed them to Victor, Treat, and Emily. 

Treat tasted one first. "It's really good!" he said.

Victor had the next. "It is," he agreed.

Emily let me have the last one. The tiny bite was crispy and crabby, a little like soft shell crab, and actually pretty delicious. "I can see why George Washington liked these!" I said.

Later, as I rinsed the gloves and washed the oyster knife, I thought of the guy at the hardware store and shook my head. No way any raw bar could have been better.

Teach from the Beach

Ever since we have started working from home we have been tempted to relocate temporarily and carry out our virtual duties from somewhere fun and beautiful. Today I finally got to try that model out. 

On the day before Thanksgiving Break, no teacher plans a serious lesson, and with the added complication of only teaching one of our two block days, my plan was to log on, take attendance, and direct the students to a light activity, leave the call, and enjoy the ocean view from my window. 

It didn't exactly go that way... the beach house where are staying is lacking robust wifi; so much so, that the only place I had a reliable signal was next to the router. So I scooted a tall kitchen stool over to the nearest chair in the living room, plunked my lap top onto the seat and spun it around to face me. At 7:45 in the morning, the sun rising over the ocean created a glare on the screen, so I pulled the blackout curtains, placed my iPad on my knees, held my breath, and joined the call.

And everything went just fine!  Neither the ambient conversation of my non-working family, nor the barking of four dogs impeded my instruction, (although my empathy for the kids who work in such conditions every day increased a hundredfold) and I knew at the end of every class that I?

was still at the beach.

Late Autumn Dip

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how cold would you say it is?" Annabelle asked me as I shivered in the outdoor pool at our beach house this afternoon. When we arrived, it seemed amazing that the pool was still open so late in the season, even here in the Southern Outer Banks of North Carolina. And yet? There it shimmered two stories down, deep blue and inviting, rivaled only by the wide sky and the ocean just beyond. And today was the day, nearly 70 and very sunny, that I decided to take the plunge, literally. To be fair, I was egged on by Annabelle, and the two of us stood first ankle deep in the frigid water and then up to our knees. I might have changed my mind and said no, but I did not. Punching the swimming workout on my watch, I listened to it counting down and 3-2-1 dove in. The cold water took my breath away, and even though I could easily stand, I lifted my feet and began treading water to stay warm. 

"An 8!" I answered. "Are you coming in?"

EUI

I glanced at my watch before taking it off for the night and noticed that I only needed 35 calories to close my activity ring. "I'll be back!" I told Heidi and headed for the spare room and the Bosu ball. I had enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine, but it seemed like a great idea to do a little vigorous step activity to meet my goal. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if...

Well, maybe I wouldn't have gotten away with it, because about 2 minutes in, I stepped down from the bouncy Bosu and felt my ankle roll. I heard it crackle, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor. Miraculously, it was a soft landing, and although my ankle was sore, I could stand. A couple of ibuprofen and a compression brace later, I was in pajamas and off to sleep, 10 calories shy of my daily goal but feeling fortunate and a little wiser for the reminder that at my age? I need to be careful! 

Tales from the Chat 2

Because of the way block scheduling works at our school, I teach four of my five sections alternating two and two every other day, but there is one class I see every day for half a block. Splitting the lesson and activities in a way that makes sense adds an extra layer of planning, but so far it hasn't been too bad. I do have to give that group two additional chat snaps every week, though, and that has led to some interesting conversations. 

For example, yesterday, since we were working on character traits, I asked them if they would consider themselves extroverts or introverts. I happen to have an assistant working with me in that class, and she and I have known each other for at least 20 years. She is an extrovert, and I am an introvert, something we have joked about a few times over the years. Before we read the answers, I asked the students to guess what we were. They knew Ms. P was an extrovert right away. "She's so smiley and friendly," one student said, "you can just tell!"

"What about me?" I asked. 

"You're definitely an extra!" one kid said. "You do everything in this class, and you are definitely always talking!"

"That's funny!" I said, "because that's just my teaching personality. Right Ms. P?"

"Oh yes!" she told them. "Ms. S is very quiet!"

Maybe because they've never met me in person, they were unconvinced. 

"Let's try to guess what the students are," I suggested to Ms. P. and we went down the list, making our predictions. Believe it or not, we got every single one right. I'd have to say we aced that formative assessment.

Sometimes it seems hard to believe that we are really reaching the kids we are teaching from a distance; getting to know them, making connections, and building bonds from so far away seems impossible. But there are small signs everywhere, you just have to check for them.