Doctor My Eyes

I took the car in to get it serviced today, and so I had a couple hours in the waiting room. I brought my laptop and graded essays as I sat there, but the TVs on the walls were a little distracting. To my right, a line up of game shows filled the screen, subsiding to soap operas in the afternoon. To my left, it was cable news and entertainment shows.

When I was a kid, daytime TV was targeted at stay-at-home moms, and the ads were full of sparkling kitchens, wholesome food, clear skin, clean laundry, and cute kids. Now it seems like most of the people watching are those who are interested in Medicare supplements, cheap life insurance, and easy to use "Smart" phones. And the contestants competing for the showcases, new cars, and cash are not the fun, excited folks I remember from summers on the couch, but rather desperate, manic people trying way to hard for a windfall.

Or is it me?

The Political is Personal

In advance of election day tomorrow, we had a voting activity today in homeroom. "I don't care about politics!" an eleven-year-old sneered, and I sighed and readied myself for argument. To be honest, his attitude is not uncommon and never has been over the many years I've been teaching. 

And it's hardly a surprise, either. In the last 50 years, voter turnout in the US in presidential election years has been below 60%, and a little under 67% of eligible voters was considered a record in the 2020 presidential election. Here in our little county, (inside the Beltway, mind you) the turnout in 2020 was 79%, a bit below the 82% in 2016. But in an off-year like our gubernatorial race always is? It's only somewhere between 40 and 49 percent of the electorate in Virginia who participate.

Civic engagement can be fostered by schools, but ideally it begins at home, because although there aren't many issues that directly affect middle school students, the same cannot be said for their parents. A little dinnertime discussion about the issues would go a long way in sparking the interest of kids in elections. 

Even so, the roadblock that I often find myself up against when trying to instill the notion that it is important for all of us to pay attention to the issues and the candidates as best we can was removed today. 

"Remember when COVID started and all the schools were closed from March to June?" I asked the student who didn't care about politics. He nodded and so did everyone else. "You know who made the decision to do that? The governor. The same person some people don't think is important enough to vote for." 

I saw by their expressions that I had personalized the election for them. 

"Who are you going to vote for?" someone asked.

"I can't say," I answered. "Go ahead and vote for the candidates you think would do a good job. "

"I hate this guy's commercials!" someone laughed pointing at a name on the mock ballot.

"Oh yeah," I nodded. "My sister went to high school with him."

The class was incredulous.

"Is she going to vote for him?" a student asked, wide-eyed.

"She doesn't live in Virginia," I told them, "but if she did? She would never vote for the guy."

They gasped. "She knows him and she wouldn't vote for him?" somebody shook his head. "He must be pretty bad."

When the Spirit is Willing

For a number of reasons (no trick-or-treaters, no time, no interest) it's been a while since I've carved a pumpkin. A couple of weeks ago, I resolved that this year would end the drought, but to be honest, I've made and broken that promise to myself before. Even so, last night at around 5:30, when dinner was warming in the oven, and we were waiting for our neighbors to join us for our annual Halloween Light Crawl, it seemed like the perfect time to bring that big ol' pumpkin in off the porch and carve a proper jack o'lantern. 

It occurred to me then that I needed the right tools for the job, and I started with a Sharpie and an idea. Next came the utility knife-- the razor gave me more control of cutting than any implement I've used before. Once I had incised my design on the front, I took my keyhole saw and opened the pumpkin at the top. The insides were far stringier than I remembered, more like a spaghetti squash than a pumpkin, and I started excavating them with a big kitchen spoon like my dad used to use for the job. 

It quickly became clear that an implement with a shorter handle would give me the leverage I needed, and I tried first a rice spoon and then a scraper that fit in the palm of my hand. This last was a champ, and I soon had the insides down to a smooth shell. Then it was back to the saw to cut the eyes, nose, and mouth all the way through. A votive on the bottom, and before you could say oogie boogie, my jack o'lantern was lit and on the stoop. 

Later, as we strolled through the neighborhood admiring lights and decorations (but so many fewer than last year-- the stay at home orders really inspired folks last year, and we may never see that level of holiday decor around here again), I noticed how few real pumpkin jack o'lanterns there were. "It's a lot of work to make a real one!" my neighbor said when I voiced my observation.

"I guess you just have to be in the right mood," I agreed.

What Scares You?

In the spirit of Halloween, I asked students to share something they were afraid of. As always, their answers were a combination of predictable, cute, off-beat, and alarming. 

In addition to bugs and spiders, snakes and worms, death and the dark, jellyfish, sharks, roller coasters, heights, clowns and dolls, and their parents when they were mad, these sixth graders were also afraid of disqualifying in swim meets, having a worthless, boring life, how the universe goes on forever, the word 'moist', loneliness, no one loving them for who they are, and me (but I'm pretty sure that was a joke).

Another choice of activity for the day was to write a scary story, with the provision that it had to be appropriate for school. As she was working, one of the students raised her hand and asked if it was okay to have sex in her story.

"You want to have sex in your story?" I asked incredulously.

"IN-sects!" she corrected me with a gasp.

"Oh!" I said with a laugh. "Sure, why not? Bugs are fine! Definitely no sex, though." I wagged my finger and laughed some more.

She was not as amused as I was, though. "Ew, Ms. S," she wrinkled her nose, "just ew."

Maybe I should be afraid of losing my hearing!

Age Related

I was on the fence about dressing up for Halloween this year. I had a few options, but when it came down to it this morning, nothing really seemed right. It was just as well anyway-- at 6:45 am our friend Lauren was in the bathroom with Heidi working on the make up for her magnificent Maleficent incarnation. That being the case, I grabbed a pair of jeans, a turtleneck, some short boots, and a new sweater I bought last weekend and went over to the spare room to get dressed. 

The day was damp and gray, and I was looking forward to wearing the calf-length gray cardigan, despite the fact that Heidi had told me it was a little "old ladyish". Truth be told, I was drawn to all the long sweaters on display because they reminded me a bit of my mom, but I also thought that this particular sweater looked good on me. As it was, I was dressed and ready for some time before Heidi and Lauren finally came down the stairs. Heidi looked amazing, and I said so as I rose to go to school. 

"You're not wearing a costume?" Lauren asked.

"Yeah, I am!" I replied. "I'm going as an old lady."

I was only half joking. Last night I ran to the grocery store after a busy afternoon. After school I had walked up to the garden and worked for an hour before walking on to the house where we pick up our CSA. Loaded down with about 10 pounds of produce, I made the return trip home, and then hopped in the car to run to the store before cooking dinner. At the grocery, I filled a hand basket and quickly scanned my purchases at self-check. My four bags were ready to go when I called the attendant over. 

"I have a coupon and some beer," I told her. 

She took my coupon, but waved my ID aside. "I don't need to see that!" she assured me. "Let's make sure you get this discount, too!" she said and scanned a barcode she pulled from her pocket. 

"Thanks!" I replied and pulled the little wallet attachment off my phone to pay. My stomach twisted when I saw nothing but my driver's license and shopper's card in there. I remembered giving my credit card to Heidi the day before so she could return something, and I knew for certain that right now? I had no way of paying for my groceries.

"I'm in kind of a bind here," I confessed with more than a little embarrassment to the attendant once she returned. 

We went through my options, and she kindly agreed to take my groceries to customer service while I went to get my credit card. "You won't have to check out again," she assured me, and I dashed down to my car and sped home.

When I returned to the store about 15 minutes later, she waved as I passed and motioned to the customer service desk. But the manager there couldn't find a receipt, and it turned out that the kiosk I had used was out of paper, so they opened a register for me, and a cashier began unbagging, scanning, and rebagging my stuff. 

"I had a 10 dollar coupon," I told her, "is there any way I can get that applied again?"

She called the helpful lady over, and she brought my coupon and apologized that I had to be rung out again.

I thanked her again for all her help, and she turned to go back to her own station.

"Oh, and don't forget," she said over her shoulder to her coworker, "she gets the senior discount!"

A Wing and a Plan

I looked up from the announcements when there was a soft thump on the window during homeroom this morning. A puff of tiny feathers stuck to the glass and a cloud of the same floated, suspended on the air beyond. 

"That was a bird!" cried one of the students as the rest of us sat stunned. 

I went over to the window to see if I could triage the situation, but the sheer angle of the wall made it impossible to see anything. Still, it was all we could talk about, and a little while later, when some other birds attracted my attention, I told my first period class about it. Then I picked up the old binoculars I have sitting on the sill and focused on the roofline of the other school across the way.

"Wait!" one of the students said in astonishment, "are you actually using those binoculars to look at birds?"

"It's what they're here for," I shrugged.

"We should totally have a bird-watching club!" the student responded.

"Really?" I turned. "Would you be interested in that?" 

Several kids said that they would. "It should be Monday," one suggested, "because there aren't many clubs meeting then."

"Maybe we could get a grant for binoculars and field guides," I mused, surprised and a little excited by their enthusiasm.

"I'd love to draw birds," said the first student so wistfully it tugged my heart a little.

"Ms. M likes to photograph birds," another student reported, mentioning the science teacher. "Maybe she would teach us how to do that."

"We could ask her," I said, the tiny millet seed of an idea sprouting and taking root. I imagined Mondays spent walking through campus, starting with basic identification of common birds, maybe putting up some feeders, checking off our sightings, moving on to learning about migratory birds and their patterns.

"This is a good idea!" I clapped. "Let's see what we can do!"

Press 6 for Fresh Air and Chubby Cheeks

 There has been a professional difference of opinion around school lately as to whether the kids should *ever* be able to use their phones during the instructional day. It is our long-standing policy that phones should be powered off and put away from bell to bell, but times have changed, and attitudes have, too. 

Some of our staff feel quite strongly that it is unreasonable to ask students, especially 8th graders, to give up their phones for the whole day. These teachers point out that there are valid instructional uses of the devices, as well as the opportunity to use them as incentives and breaks as we all navigate our return to both full-time school and block scheduling. They mention that some parents, too, want to be able to reach their students during the day.

Those on the other side of the debate feel that phones are nothing but a distraction at best and opportunity for mischief and malice at worst. They remind us that our district provides each student with a device to use in school, and so phones are technically not necessary. And in the event of family emergency, they say, every classroom has a phone, and parents can call the main office at any time to reach their student.

There seems to be a generational divide on the issue. Younger teachers who have grown up with phones themselves are more likely to favor a more flexible policy. In high school, students are allowed to have their phones and use them at the discretion of the teacher, so why not have a rule more closely aligned to that one?

Older teachers seem to value consistency, especially when it comes to undercutting student resistance to any rules they don't like. They are more comfortable operating in loco parentis and setting unpopular boundaries in support of what they feel are the kids' best interest. What 11-14 year old can resist the buzz of a text?

It is a dilemma indeed, and in the midst of this disagreement the sixth grade planned a mini-field day activity for our students on early-release day today. After a quick review with administration of some school rules that have slipped a bit (phones included-- our policy still stands, for now), kids headed out into the cool morning and played a variety of old-fashioned games, then had some free time to socialize and play some more with all of their sixth grade peers. 

Because we were outside, masks were optional, and it was a wonder to see some of the sixth graders I've come to know over the last 2 months from the nose down for the first time. Another teacher and I stood marveling at their baby faces. 

"It's so weird!" she said.

"I know," I agreed, "but I sure could get used to it!"