One Tech, Two Tech, Old Tech, New Tech

A few years ago, when a student needed to call his parent, I invited him to use the phone on my desk. "Dial 9" I casually told him as I handed over the receiver, and then stepped away to help another student. 

A few minutes later I looked over and saw him helplessly standing there.

"How does this work?" he asked me. 

I showed him how to hold it to his ear and then pointed out the number pad and pushed the hook switch. "Do you hear a noise?" I asked. "That's the dial tone," I told him when he nodded. "Now push the 9 button, and when you hear that sound again, dial your mom's number."

I thought of that child today when one of the new sixth graders brought me her iPad. "I think I broke the screen protector," she reported sheepishly.

But the flimsy piece of plastic that covered her iPad was all in one piece and holding the countless shards of her shattered screen in place. "Lucky for you sixth graders are getting new iPads next week!" I told her. She and her classmates have had their devices since second grade, and the school upgrades them as a matter of practice when the students enter middle school. I handed her a lap top, showed her how to navigate to the activity we were working on, and then stepped away to help another student.

A few minutes later I looked over and saw her fingers hovering helplessly over the keyboard.

"How does this work?" she asked me.

You Didn't Really Have to Be There

"That's what she said!" a student blurted across the room yesterday when one of his classmates said that something was "painful".

I asked the jokester to step outside so we could discuss his brand of humor. Our conversation did not take long: I knew just what to say to move him from feigned innocence to admitting his mistake and promising to avoid such shenanigans in the future, and we were both back in the classroom before many people even noticed we were gone.

But I must admit, I sure did not miss that part of teaching middle school when we were virtual.

From the Esoteric to the Mundane

 Day 2 of this school year is in the books, and just 2 more days until a long weekend. 

That's right-- our calendar this year is a little silly. As I explained to the sixth graders today, "We have four days of school, and then five days off. Then we have three days of school and two days off. Then we have three days of school and one day off. Then we have one day of school and two days off. And then? We have five days of school!"

Their heads must have been swimming. "And don't even get me started on the block schedule!" I continued, but it was too late. "We have A, B, and C days. Yesterday was a C-A day, and today is a C-B day. Tomorrow is A and Thursday is B. When we get back next week, Wednesday is a C-A Day, Thursday is an A Day, and Friday is a B Day. There are no more C Days for 2 weeks, but the next one will be a C-B Day!"

Their eyes were glazed over.

"It's super confusing," I laughed, "but you know what is even crazier than this crazy schedule?"

They shook their heads. 

"In a couple weeks, we will all understand it completely!"

No Time for Drama

During the open house last week a student stopped me. He was an eighth grader, and one of our school "ambassadors", kids who are tapped to welcome and guide visitors during special occasions. He had a woman with him, and they were both a little turned around. "Do you know where the door to the parking lot is?" he asked.

"We don't have one anymore," I frowned.

"This lady says her husband dropped her off at Door 19, and she's supposed to meet him there right now."

The woman sighed and literally drummed her fingers on her crossed arms. "I just need to know where Door 19 is!"

The question threw me a bit, because even though it's been several years since our many outside doors were numbered for easier emergency management, I never really bothered to match the doors with their designations. 

"Isn't it in the gym?" the student said.

"I don't think so," I replied, vaguely recalling that those doors had single digit numbers. "But I do have a map of the building in my room right over here," I offered. "We could look at that."

"Just take me to the door," she said to the student, and off they went toward the gym. Back in my room, I checked the map and found that Door 19 was right down the hallway. 

A little later, I saw the 8th grader again. "Did you find the door?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said. "That lady said you were causing some drama, but I just ignored her."

"What drama?" I was confused.

"The whole map thing," he shrugged. "She just wanted to go."

"Well I guess it's a good thing she's gone, then," I said.

On Our Own

Heidi had a reunion in Pittsburgh this weekend, so Lucy, the cats, and I were solo. AND we did just fine, walking and cooking and cleaning and grooming and playing and so forth. BUT it must be said that we were all very happy when she got home this evening.

Children Get Older

In the spirit of Friday Night, I decided to look for a movie to watch when I collapsed on the couch at the end of mt first full week back from summer break. What I landed on was When We Last Spoke, a film that takes place in a small town in Texas in 1967 and follows the lives of two young sisters living with their grandparents because their dad is in Vietnam and their overwhelmed mom took off. Starring Melissa Gilbert and Corbin Berenson ad featuring Cloris Leachman in one of her last rolls, the movie seemed targeted at folks like me. 

And it was pretty good, if a little predictable-- that is once I got past Melissa Gilbert playing the grandma!

Angel

I got a chance to meet most of my homeroom at our annual open house. In past years, the event has usually drawn a little less than half the rising sixth graders; the kids have already visited the school in the spring, and families are often too busy or off enjoying their last days of summer. But COVID injected more of a sense of urgency into the tradition, and in addition to the high turnout for sixth grade, many seventh and eighth graders attended as well. 

The plan called for us to meet our students outside, direct their parents to a Q&A with the administration, and then bring the kids inside for a quick ice breaker and a tour of the building. The sun shined in my eyes as I held a piece of paper with my name above my head, and one by one, a group of eleven-year-olds formed around me. I recognized one or two from the outdated pictures in my gradebook, but I asked for all of them to introduce themselves.

One guy was wearing a pair of khaki shorts, a short-sleeved button down that was a size too small, and a clip-on tie that only made it to the fourth button. There was something about him that I like right away. "How many of you guys were virtual the whole time last year?" I asked, and when he raised his hand I realized that he was wearing his good school clothes from 4th grade. 

Back in the classroom, one of the other students was struggling with the icebreaker. "Are you stuck for ideas?" I asked her, but she told me in broken English that although she understood the directions, she didn't know how to write her answers in English. 

I wrote a few sentence stems on the board to help her, but I also told her she could write her answers in Spanish if she preferred. "I'll do my best to understand,"I smiled, "and if I don't get it, you and I will be the same!"

The guy in the tie waved his hand. "I speak Spanish!" he said. 

"Great!" I replied. "If I need help, I know who to ask!"

When it came time to reading the questions the students had turned, I saw that there were some in Spanish, so I walked over and handed my volunteer the papers. 

He looked panicked. "I said I could speak Spanish, I didn't say I could read it!"

"It's okay!" I reassured him. "I can try it."

But he insisted, and after a few minutes, and consulting with the other student, he did great!

And just like that? I was ready for the year to begin.