This Ain't Horseshoes

The bonus challenge today was to "Ask me a trivia question, please." (I made sure to add the 'please' since it is National Common Courtesy Day.) 

You might have guessed, but I love trivia. (Heck, who am I kidding? I just love answering questions! This teacher thing is a pretty good fit that way.) 

And the questions started coming early. "What year did the United States start?" asked the first student in the door.

"1776," I replied.

"Dang!" he said. "You knew it!"

"You still get the prize!" I assured him. "You don't have to stump me."

"What year was this school built?" asked the next student.

"1971!" I answered confidently.

She shrugged. "I guess so."

"Wait! You don't know the answer?" I said.

"No," she shrugged again, choosing her Jolly Rancher, "but you do." 

Just then, a third inquisitor entered the room. "How many championships did Michael Jordan win when he played for the Chicago Bulls?"

"Good one," I said thoughtfully, thinking back over the last 38 years. "I don't know. Five?"

'Maybe," he replied.

"Don't you know?" I asked him incredulously, even though the same thing had just happened.

He shook his head. I had to admit that my directions had not specified knowing the answer. Nor had they been clear about whether or not you had to stump me.

"Hey Siri!" I called over my shoulder at my iPad. "How many championships did Michael Jordan win with the Bulls?"

That weird round purple graphic contracted and expanded. "Michael Jordan won six championships with the Chicago Bulls," Siri intoned. 

The student looked at me impressed. "You were so close!" 

"Yeah, but not close enough,"  I sighed.

Equinox

Yesterday it was gloriously warm, this morning it was cool and sunny, this afternoon it is blustery and cold, windows open, windows closed, heat back on. 

Dig out your flip flops and fire up the grill, pull on your hoodie and set some soup to simmer, unfurl the fleece throw and lay a fire on the hearth. 

Open with the daffodils, shine with the morning dew, bend with the willows in the wind. 

Spring will come as it will: 

There is no denying the vivid green of the tiny leaves on the trees, the pinking of the redbud branches, the cherry blossoms unfolding to their peak. 

Saturday Morning Clouds

The last thing I wanted to do on a Saturday morning was a 3 and 1/2 hour professional learning session, but there I was in front of my lap top at 9 AM, joining a Zoom call. At first, there were only 3 other participants, and I sighed as I considered all the extra participation that might be necessary with such a small cadre of fellow learners. 

As it was, the group only expanded to 8, but I was glad to see a name I recognized; a former student teacher I had worked with was on the call, too. We texted back and forth a bit as the session went on (the virtual equivalent of passing notes), evaluating the activities and gossiping about the guy who left the breakout room when we suggested that he be our spokesperson. 

The time went by as quickly as a workshop on Saturday morning can, and I came away with a few new additions to my teaching tool box. One of them, WordSift.org, creates word clouds of text so that teachers can actually see the most prevalent terms in an article or passage and then front-load or scaffold them for English language learners. The site also suggests images and other resource that instructors can use to help with teaching the vocabulary.

I love anything with a word cloud! I texted to my friend, and spent the next few minutes copying and pasting entries from my blog. (Don't worry! I was listening, too.)

Shine On

After all the rain yesterday, I was doubtful that our 7:15 engagement would go on, but it did. As the skies cleared and a full moon rose, dusk found eight people and two dogs in the school parking lot just at the top of the hill. 

We were there to honor Ben and Blasket on their birthday, two congenial old fellows who our dog community had recently lost. To do so, someone had brought flying lanterns: hot air balloons made of paper with a wax and cardboard wick that when ignited fills the lanterns with hot air and sends them soaring hundreds of feet into the sky before they are consumed by the flames that make them rise. 

Aside from the rain, I was a little hesitant to participate. Some internet sources described the lanterns as dangerous, and even illegal in 29 states, including our own. Once at our meeting point, I was put a bit at ease by one of the other folks. "I've done this dozens of times," he said, ticking off the names of people he had lost, "it's perfectly safe." The wet weather was also reassuring-- everything was still damp; nothing seemed dry enough to burst into flames.

And so we began assembling the lanterns and lighting the squares. It took a nerve-wracking minute or two of holding a light paper structure with an open flame attached before the warm air filled the ballon and it was able to be tossed aloft to float up and up. 

But when they did take flight, I was unprepared for how moving it was to watch the glowing light drift up and away. Soon there was a line of them stretching toward heaven, tiny orbs shining in the darkness as they flew away into the night, almost as if they knew where to find Ben and Blasket.

Good Times

There are a couple days on the calendar that, as a sixth grade teacher, I have come to dread: Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day. These minor holidays have the tendency to become huge distractions in school, fueled by sugar and misdirected emotions. 

When I was a kid the rule was to either bring a Valentine for everyone or no one. I'm not sure how it goes down in elementary school, but in middle school? Some kids walk away with an armful of candy and gifts from their friends while others go empty-handed, which is obviously disappointing at best and devastating at worst. Our student council even runs a candygram fundraiser where for a dollar kids can send notes and sweets to their friends. 

It's tough to strike the right balance in homeroom as you dole out the deliveries, so this year I forked over fifteen bucks to make sure that every student would have one. "I can't believe I got one!" said one student as I handed him his anonymous Valentine. 

Soon enough, though, they started comparing the handwriting. "All of these in red are pity cards for people who would never get one anyway," concluded the same student a few minutes later. 

"They're actually from me," I confessed. "I wanted you all to have a nice start to the day."

"Told you so," he whispered to the kid next to him, then ate the candy and tossed the note I had composed for him in the recycling bin.

And then just a month later we get St. Patrick's Day? Oof. 

Pity the sixth grader who forgets to wear green or doesn't even own anything green, for they are destined to spend the day getting surreptitiously pinched between classes, their claims of green underwear or socks falling on deft fingers. If they are not given an Irish-themed sticker by some sympathetic teacher then they may draw a shamrock in green marker on their hand or face to ward off the attacks. All day long shades of green are carefully evaluated to determine if they are green enough to pass.

At least that's how the day looms in my memory. Today the sixth graders were relatively restrained in their celebrations and surprisingly forgiving of those not in green. I wondered if my recollections were blown out of proportion, until I did I did a little calculation. Because of weekends, the COVID shut down, and virtual learning, the last time St. Patrick's Day was an in-person school day was 2017. These kids were in first grade then! They never the learned the shenanigans I've come to expect of the day.

If only we could keep it that way!

In Praise of Micro Classes

I'm a teacher who is a supporter of block scheduling for 6th graders. As long as there are movement opportunities, brain breaks, cooperative learning, and plenty of guided practice built in to each session, the extended class time without transitioning from one place to another is efficient and effective. I also like planning once for two days, and I think giving students a chance to take a deep dive into fewer subjects each day helps with learning.

Even so, I confess that I love the early release day schedule, too. On days like today we see everyone for 21 minutes. We can use the time as a catch-up day, or an extension day, or like I did today-- a fast and furious review of concepts. I read out loud The Legend of Rock, Paper, Scissors; then we had a quick rock, paper, scissors tournament, and next we played a 20 question Kahoot on conflict, and finally the kids filled out a 2 part exit ticket before packing up and heading on their ways.

In 2 hours? I was finished teaching for the day, and I had evidence that my students had learned.

First Day on the New Feet?

I was on the ground before I realized I was falling. 

Landing on my left elbow and knee, I rolled over onto my back and sat up. "I'm okay!" I said, without really knowing if it were true. It was only then I saw the runner and biker who had stopped to help, looking on with concern. 

"Really?" asked the biker doubtfully.

"Really," I assured him.

Heidi and Lucy had been a few paces ahead of me, but they were back by my side now, freeing the good Samaritans from any further obligation.

"What happened?" Heidi asked.

I had been walking purposefully along into mile 3 of a 5 1/2 mile jaunt on the W&OD trail. Crossing a bridge, I pulled my sunglasses off and dug in my pocket for my phone to snap a photo. Evidently that was a couple of tasks too many, because my right foot slipped off the side of the asphalt trail, and I rolled my ankle. 

Now, still sitting on the ground, I could feel my ankle begin to throb and probably swell. I reached for my Ray-Ban Wayfarers, but they had been snapped in half at the bridge of the nose in my fall.

It was then, when I knew that I was okay, but I saw the damage to my shades, that I considered how bad such a fall might have been. My elbow, my knee, my ankle-- any of them could have been broken instead of bruised. 

As it was, I made the decision to walk it off, knowing that there were lots of family and friends who would have come to my aid in a matter of minute. Instead I headed home, breathing through the ache and taking the next 2 1/2 miles one step at a time.