And So I Will

When I first started teaching, the preservice week was four days, Monday through Thursday, then there were four days off before the students began on the Tuesday after Labor Day. Then, it was nearly impossible for me to enjoy the time off because I was so anxious about the time on coming up. All I really anted was to go to school.

After a while, schedules changed, and I did, too, and a long weekend was a long weekend, but this year? Although I sure do appreciate the extended holiday weekend we are coming off of, especially because five days in a row is a luxury usually reserved for the big three: Thanksgiving, Winter, and Spring Break, here in Year 29 I'm feeling a little return-to-school anxiety.

Fortunately, I learned the best cure for that in Year 1:

Get your ass back to school.

Runner Up

I gasped as two dark figures dashed furtively across the trail not 50 feet ahead of us. We were taking advantage of this fine fall day by walking the several miles of wooded trails at Teddy Roosevelt Island, just across the river from our nation's capital. In the many years we have been visiting this national memorial, we have seen egrets and herons and turtles and deer and even a beaver and eagle or two, but never 

a wild turkey!

Until today.

Buon Appetito

 "Did you get squash blossoms?" our neighbor asked when we rejoined our group at the farmer's market.

"Yep!" I answered.

"I did too," she told me, "but they were definitely an impulse buy. How are you going to make them?"

"Stuffed and fried," I said. "What about you?"

"With ricotta?" she asked.

I nodded.

"That's what I was thinking, too" she replied, "but..." She shrugged. "The last time I bought them they went bad."

"Frying them can be involved,' I said, "but they're good on pizza or sautéed with pasta, too."

"But frying them seems really appealing," she sighed.

This evening, as I was stirring together ricotta, locatelli, burrata, and fresh basil, I asked Heidi to text our neighbor and let her know that I had filling and hot oil ready if she wanted to bring over her blossoms, because making 12 is no harder than making six. 

Sabado Gigante

Maybe the limos should have been my first clue. After all, a line of 6 stretch humvees and a luxury mini bus is a little unusual on a quiet city street at three o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. 

On this beautiful day, we decided to park at the new aquatic center and walk the trail along the railroad tracks and the river beyond. The path took us into one of the many urban neighborhoods of our county, the one which was renamed National Landing when Amazon announced that its HQ2 would be built there. But the park, a shady 1.5 acres with a cool, multi-level water feature, some colorful Adirondack chairs, and a giant chess board, still bears its original Crystal City name. 

Word in the press is that the place, as nice as it is, will receive an upgrade like everything in that area, but today the sun, the shade, the paths, and the fountains were all the perfect location for at least 10 Quinceañera photo shoots. As we approached the park a team of three photographers and videographers recorded a white limo parking curbside. Doors opened and a young girl in a midnight blue dress with hoops and crinoline piled out with her court of 6 damas, dressed in slightly fewer frills in a lighter shade of blue, and 6 chambelanes, dressed in dark suits with powder blue waistcoats. A little girl and boy dressed like their older counter parts completed the court. Parents and grandparents climbed out of the limo next, and the entire entourage proceeded to the fountains stopping and posing as they went. 

Almost every corner of the park was occupied by a similar group, some in pink, some in yellow, some also in blue, all attended by cadres of photographers. The activity was too interesting to pass by; we found a couple of empty Adirondack chairs at the far corner of the park, and took a break to watch. After a half or so, the action showed no signs of slowing: each time a limo left, another eased into its parking space, and 20 more celebrants replaced the court that had departed. So we took our leave, and headed back to the car, enchanted by the tradition.

Yeah, Right

On the back side of Hurricane Ida, which delivered 24 hours of steamy winds and torrential rain to our area before walloping the Northeast, the prediction is nearly a week of early autumn weather, crisp and golden, with cool mornings and warm, sunny afternoons. Rather than complain of whiplash, or otherwise rue the days as they pass, I prefer to take each as it comes and find the pleasure in it. 

But secretly? I still have my favorites.

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.