Come On In and Look Around

Before I went to bed on Thursday, I dutifully set up my new lap top and the monitor I purchase in the summer of 2020 on the dining room table, so that I would be at least technically prepared for the 11 student-led conferences I had scheduled for the next day. Our district had sensibly made the decision to do the conferences virtually, and as I sound- and camera-checked the MS Teams feed, I was faced with that familiar decision-- to blur or not to blur the background. 

Last year, I kept the default setting the whole time that we were teaching remotely from home, and as such I got compliments on my lamp and the painting on the wall, as well as suggestions for organizing the desk behind me. Plus? My cats could join the call whenever they were so moved. To be honest, the main decider then was that weird pixilated halo around my head with the alternate backgrounds; it was always too distracting to keep.

This time, as I scrutinized the backdrop I experimented with blurring and other artificial images before just getting out of my chair and tidying up so that I could keep it on default. I also packed up all the winter and Valentines Day gnomes my wife has collected that were in full view on top of our book shelf. 

And as silly as I may have felt then, I knew there had been significant shift away from the days when everything was online, because as I conducted the virtual conferences? I was kind of distracted by looking around at what I could see in the background of every call. Thank goodness I put those gnomes away!

Hey! That's Me

Sometime last week I changed my profile picture on our LMS to my sixth grade school picture. I found it when we were going through family photos at my sister's house a couple weeks ago, and I thought my students might get a kick out of it, if they noticed at all. 

In the photograph, the sixth grade me looks directly into the camera with an amused gap-toothed grin. The shag haircut my mother gave me frames my face and tumbles to the top of the floppy purple collar on the blouse I'm wearing under the bib of my quilted pinafore. I look a little sassy and a lot more confident than I know I was.

I definitely underestimated how much attention kids pay to such things, though, because my new profile was a big topic of conversation in each class. 

"Who is that?" they asked.

"It's me!" I said. "When I was in sixth grade! Can't you tell?"

"Maybe?" they replied.

I honestly didn't expect anyone to say that I hadn't changed in in 49 years, but I was a little dismayed that so many found the photo to be unrecognizable. Maybe it's the masks...

Even so, I forgot all about my picture until yesterday, when I was reading through some discussion board posts. A tiny circle with our profile image stands to the left of our names on anything we post, and there I was right next to one of the student's names. They had copied the picture and used it as their own. If it had been another kid I might have thought they were messing with me, but I have a feeling that this choice was not motivated by mockery or mirth.

Because of conferences today, I haven't had a chance to talk to the student, and I'm kind of glad I have the weekend to think about the conversation. I can't decide exactly what I want to say, because it's kind of flattering, but also a little perturbing.

Thoughts?

A Promising Exposition

At the beginning of each unit we ask our young writers to give us an "on-demand" writing sample of the genre we will be working in, both as a pre-assessment and a baseline that both the students and we will use at the end of the unit when we reflect on their learning. 

Today my sixth graders composed their on-demand fiction pieces, and even though I know how much kids love to write fiction, their sheer glee was both surprising and a little intoxicating. They giggled and whispered as they wrote, and many could not contain their enthusiasm: they were out of their seats begging for readers, either me or their peers.

When I could, I asked them to read an excerpt to me, and their voices were engaged and engaging, funny, dramatic, and true. They wrote tales of injustice, heroism, tragedy, and every day life, and there was fantasy, fairy tale, science fiction, mystery, and a bit mild horror among the mostly realistic fiction. 

And although there is certainly room for growth (it's the largest room in the house!), I was also certain that this was going to be a good unit when I heard one writer eagerly ask his reader, "Do you think it's glorious?" 

Endangered

As I walked out of the school building on my way home this afternoon, I passed 2 colleagues in animated conversation. "There she is!" one of them pointed at me. "You know this whole safety oversight thing started with her!"

I took the comment as a joke and shrugged. "You know it," I replied. "Me and safety got nothing to say to each other."

"No seriously," the other colleague said, "you know I was on the phone the other day and they were telling me that anyone who wants to drive kids on a field trip has to be drug-tested, which I'm okay with," he added parenthetically. "But when they started talking about insurance, I said, 'I have an insurance story for you!'"

I knew what they were talking about then. Years ago, when the safety oversight office was first established, we submitted the paperwork for our annual sixth grade dolphin watching field trip. We had been chartering buses to take us to the coast for years, picnicking on the beach, and then going for a 2 hour cruise. The new office wanted a copy of the boat company's liability policy, and when I contacted the owner, he not only refused to comply, he was offended. "I've been doing business with a handshake all my life," he told me. "I'm not stopping now."

It turned out the guy didn't have insurance, and needless to say, we found another field trip to end the year. And these days? Even before COVID, our field trips were scaled back because of time and resources, and our sixth grade has stayed on campus for the end of the year activity for the last several years.

When people say it was a different time, this is what they mean, which is a little sad, really. As my students prepare for their spring conferences, I've asked them what they are looking forward to in 7th grade. All the field trips, wrote one. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was probably looking backwards on that.

Self Improvement

As I embark on this annual writing ritual, my students are beginning another. Our Sixth Grade 100 Day Writing Challenge has kicked off on March 1 for the last ten years or so. We make it as fun and achievable as possible, with different levels of participation, monthly prizes, daily mini-challenges and shout-outs, and the kids get excited about writing and publishing on the discussion board of our LMS. 

Since I write every day, anyway, I always ask my students to suggest a hundred day challenge for me to complete in solidarity with their struggle. In past years I've done 100 daily sit-ups, meditated for 10 minutes a day, and practiced the ukulele. 

This year the challenge coincided with my six-month dental check-up, and I confess I have not been as conscientious about my tooth care routine as I should be. "I know it's boring," I told my class yesterday, "but I think I should floss every day for 100 days. That would be a good habit to form." 

They were understanding. "That sounds good," said one, "but only if you do THE Floss every day, too."

I laughed and agreed. I've been wanting to learn that dance move for a while now.

This afternoon I was telling my hygienist the story. Not surprisingly, he approved completely. "You'll see!" I told him, "in sixth months I will be tartar free!"

"Okay," he said, "but remember, you're not doing it for me. It's for you, AND your teeth."

"Wow!" I said. "You sound just like a teacher!"

For Goodness' Sake

There was a bit of fracas in Heidi's social skills class today. One of her students was very cranky with another. "Why? What did I do?" asked the offending kid.

"You said there was no Santa!" answered the other student with a snarl.

It was true; he had said that, back in December. 

Even though these students are all in 7th and 8th grade, they have developmental delay in common, and so some of their families still keep the myth of Santa alive. Some obviously do not, though, and there has been some contention simmering for months because of this disagreement as to Santa's existence.

The renewed conversation today agitated one of the other kids so much that he couldn't keep his anger in check. "God dammit!" he exploded. "He is a saint! Everybody knows saints are real!"

Fraught

I decided to give the new CDC masking guidance a spin yesterday at the mall. As we entered I was wearing my mask, but I scanned the crowd intently eying each person walking toward me to see if I could read the overall mask vibe. 

As of Friday, our area is now considered "low risk" according to the new metrics the CDC has adopted. As such, anyone fully vaccinated is not recommended to wear a mask. The crowd was mixed, perhaps 60-40 in favor of masks; more white people than others unmasked, but a fair share of all shoppers were mask-free. 

I tapped Heidi's arm, and with broad gesture unhooked my mask from my ears, folded it, and put it in my pocket, momentarily relieved to be without it in public. But that feeling was short-lived. I couldn't relax, and I was anxious and worried. 

Worried that I was being premature, that the CDC was overly political in its decision-making process, that I was making others uncomfortable, that masks were a small price to pay for avoiding even the slimmest chance of COVID. Any sense of liberation I felt vanished, and I pulled my mask out of my pocket and put it back on.