Bossy Has its Benefits

As part of the back-and-forth-repartee-style toast my brother and I made at my sister's wedding rehearsal dinner, it came out that when we were kids I, as the oldest sibling, treated the two of them as my minions. My brother fully confessed to be a willing sidekick to all my wacky plans, and I defended myself, assuring everyone that I was nothing if not a benevolent dictator. 

But isn't that what the oldest child is supposed to do? When I went to school and learned to read, I thought it was soooo cool, that I came home and taught my brother how to do it, too. The same was so for riding a two-wheeler. I learned, and then both my brother and sister learned shortly after. Why would starting a singing group, trying to sell mud door to door, or taking the dog out for a walk when we were not supposed to be any different? Sure, some of my schemes were more successful than others, but at that age? They all came from the same place, and it always started with I have a great idea...

In our family, growing up in the 1960s and early 70s, my mom put me in charge of those two, for short periods of time, from the time I was 5 or 6. "Go outside and play!" was a common direction in almost every family then. She told me to keep an eye on them, and I did, even when they insisted, "You are  not my boss!"

So you can imagine how justified I felt this morning when I heard a piece on NPR about a recent study that "suggests kids in poor countries benefit hugely from having older sisters — who are more likely than brothers or even mothers — to engage in stimulating play." That's right! There were measurable benefits for all those kids whose bossy big sisters forced them to play school and other games that engaged their brains and their imaginations. 

Just as I did 50 years ago, these girls spend "as much as half of their free time looking after younger children." And their siblings? Perform better on tests of vocabulary and fine motor skills than their peers without an older sister, ahem, orchestrating their days. 

You're welcome, guys!

Where's Liz?

I had lunch, virtually of course, with a friend and colleague today. She is a math teacher on my team, and we eat together almost every day when school is held in the building. She is also an accomplished singer, and since COVID safety orders have been in effect, she has been performing with the Stay at Home Choir. 

The members of the SHC are singers from around the world, and for each project they meet with internationally acclaimed conductors and composers to prepare and rehearse, and then each singer records and submits their part. Sound and video engineers blend the recordings into a final performance, and the amazing results are released into the world via YouTube and other video sites.

Today happened to be the premier of their performance of Beethoven's Ode to Joy, with lyrics by US Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith and accompanied by the Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Marin Alsop. Lucky for me? The premier was during our lunch, and so we watched it together. 

The performance was stirring and beautiful, but I confess that I was distracted by looking for my friend in the hundreds of faces, each in its own little tile. And maybe all this online communication is changing my brain, because I was sure, absolutely sure! I saw her at least three times. 

Later this afternoon, when I went back to listen again, I couldn't help myself from pausing the video to scan the faces, and sure enough-- there she was. For the last 9 months, all of seen of her is a face on a screen, and so I guess it makes sense that I could pick that familiar image out, even among all those other faces. 

Plus, it was kinda like Where's Waldo? but more fun and with wonderful music.

The Elements

When the days grow shorter and colder, it is so easy to burrow in, snuggle up, and hunker down. Working from home? There is very little reason to leave the comfort of my warm house, and quickly those instincts start to become habit. Fortunately, we have to get Lucy from her dog walker every afternoon, and at 3 miles round trip, walking over there and back offers a modicum of activity. 

Even so, when temperatures hit the low 60s over the weekend and sunny, springlike days beckoned me out of my lair, without necessity, I resisted and stayed in baking cookies and decorating my tree. Often the contrarian, this morning I woke with conviction to exercise outside, and the cold driving rain would not dissuade me. 

In need of a shower anyway, I dressed in some tights and a pullover and, leaving my phone behind so it would not get drenched, I shoved a cap on my head and ventured out. We were under a flood watch at the time, and at first I tried to avoid the wide puddles and gushing gutters, but as I got going, it was kind of exhilarating to plunge my feet into icy water even as I was sweating beneath my dripping clothes. 

And half an hour later when I returned home, breathless and sodden, I did not feel like curling up or nestling in. I did eat a cookie, though!

No More Gnomes

When we were shopping for new furniture a year or so ago, Heidi told me in no uncertain terms that we could not buy a white leather couch, no matter how much we liked it in the showroom. "Babe!" she said. "White couches are for old ladies. That's not us."

I thought of that conversation today when we purchased a stuffed winter gnome to join the two I inherited from my mother. Those holiday fellows were just a little too appealing to me to leave to the consignment, and when we opened their box with my mom's handwriting on it a couple of weeks ago, I knew the perfect place for them. Currently, they survey the living room from atop the bookshelf. The new gnome in his gray flannel and buffalo checks is a perfect compatriot for them; he fills the gap up there we never knew we had, and three is a pleasing arrangement. 

While shopping, I was appalled to see Valentine's Day decor liberally included in the already clearance-priced Christmasware, but Heidi was transfixed by the pink Valentine gnome and his leftover autumn gnome brother. "We should get a gnome for every season!" she said, a proposal I immediately vetoed.

"You sound like an old lady!" I told her. 

"Maybe," she shrugged, "but I don't even care!"

"You must see our gnome collection!" I added in a warbly fake elder voice. "It's adorable."

She shrugged again. "It would be!"

In Sight

I misplaced my reading glasses earlier in the week, which is strange, because my world is so very small-- I haven't been anywhere recently besides over to the dog walker to pick up Lucy each evening. Even so, they were gone, disappeared, nowhere to be found in this little condo despite an exhaustive search of the few possibilities. 

Oh, I muddled through, most people of my age have learned to strew their cheaters about, placing a pair of spectacles within easy reach of any location where they may be required. So, yeah, I have extra reading glasses in the kitchen, by my favorite seats in the living room, in the bedside table, and, of course, in the bathrooms. Even so, I missed my Peepers, the ones I purchased because Oprah recommended them, and whose heavy blue frames provided just the right balance of gravitas and levity to my on-camera teaching persona.

So you can imagine how happy I was to hear Heidi call down to me this morning: "I found your glasses!"

"Where were they?" I asked joyfully.

"In the washing machine," she reported.

Now, there's a place I don't usually keep reading glasses, but? Maybe?

Oh Snap

MS Teams recently rolled out an update that allows the meeting organizer, aka the teacher, to open breakout rooms and automatically send participants to work there. It's kind of a nifty feature, you can quickly organize and supervise group work, almost like being in a classroom. There is also a general broadcast that posts messages to all the chats, which is also very handy. 

Of course, I immediately integrated the new feature into my lesson-- I feel certain that many kids really miss the self-direction and interaction that cooperative work offers. Popping in and out of the breakout groups validated my sense, most groups quickly overcame their initial shyness and got to work on the task at hand. 

Perhaps the coolest thing about the breakout room, though, is the ability to close all the rooms with a single tap, bringing your participants right back to the main meeting in an instant. Today as all the little glowing circles rematerialized on my screen, there was almost a collective gasp as several kids unmuted at once. "Wow!" one student said. "That was so weird! I felt like I actually went some place else!"

"I know! Cool right?" I answered.

"It was like the Avengers," another student added. "You have the Thanos snap!" 

"But I brought you back!" I said. "I am Iron Teacher!"

Dynamic Group

My homeroom was very engaged in the library scavenger hunt activity that was scheduled for today. Once I made sure they had the right app downloaded and opened, I shared my screen and we used the chat for them to post the answers they found to the 7 questions so I could type them into the challenge.

We had to use the chat because so many were excitedly yelling answers that I couldn't hear them. When we had successfully unlocked the final padlock and our finish time was displayed, I entered it into a google form to see how we stacked up to the other homeroom groups. "I did it!" I reported as I clicked submit.

"You didn't do anything!" one student said indignantly. "You just typed! We did all the work!"

"I know," I agreed, "I meant I submitted the form."

"Ohhh," he said without apology.

"What do we win if we got the best time?" asked another student.

"Um, bragging rights?" I answered. "They'll say our homeroom on the announcements."

"That's your name!" said the first kid.

I shrugged. "The gift of knowledge, then? A skill you need to be a good student?" I suggested, but they were jokingly grumbling and playing up their disgruntlement.

"Well," I finally said, "how about the gift of lunch 5 minutes early?"

With a cheer, their circles blinked out one by one, and I chuckled as I ended the call.