April Foolin'

Ordinarily? I am not a big fan of April Fool's Day, but yesterday when I was looking for a fun challenge, I read several pranks that teachers could pull on their students. Before I left for the day I jotted the words "Flood Drill" on a post-it note as a possibility, should the opportunity arise. 

I was reminded of my plan when the kids on the morning announcements played a few silly April Fool's jokes, and so when the program was over, I stood up from my desk and walked out to the middle of the room. "You guys we have a drill today," I said seriously, in the same tone I always use to inform them of such things.

"What is it?" asked one student.

"It's a flood drill," I answered.

"A flood drill!" she replied. "I've never heard of that."

"Maybe because of COVID you missed it?" I suggested. "Has anyone else ever done one?"

They hadn't, and I would have gotten away with the whole prank except that when it came time to tell them they had to stand on their chairs, I started to laugh so hard I couldn't give the directions.

"You have to do better!" they scolded me. 

"I almost believed it!" someone agreed.

So when the next class came in, the kids from my homeroom helped out. "We have a drill today," I started.

"That's right," said one of them. "She told us about it. She got a note in her mailbox."

They were so convincing, that they pulled me along, too. "When they announce the drill over the loud speaker, you have to stand on your chair," I explained. "But if it were a real flood, lifeboats would drop out of the ceiling."

"Lifeboats!" exclaimed an incredulous girl. "Why can't we just walk out?"

"Because of the electrical wires," I said seriously. "It's too dangerous! You have to step from your chair to the lifeboat and then paddle it down the hall the same way we go for a fire drill."

"Really?" I saw them looking at each other doubtfully. 

"Yes," I continued, "unless you're on the swim team. Then you have to report to the nearest bathroom and flush the toilets over and over to keep the water level down. You are the designated flushers! When the whole building is evacuated, you can swim to safety."

"Why can't we just open the window to let the water out?" somebody said.

"The lifeboats won't work if there isn't enough water!" I told them.

Most of them were laughing now, and I was too. 

"Are you ready to practice?" I asked them. "Attention! This is a flood drill!"

They climbed on their chairs. 

"Great job!" I congratulated them. "You're ready for the flood drill!"

"When is it?" asked someone.

The other kids rolled their eyes. "April Fools!" they roared.

Jolly Holiday

As part of the daily writing challenge I offer my students I usually add a fun fact about the day to inspire them. For example, March 18 is National Awkward Moments Day, and as we all can probably attest, awkward moments make good writing topics. March 24? Harry Houdini's birthday, and a possible writing topic was a time someone escaped from something. Students are not limited to these prompts by any means, but the suggestion can throw a lifeline to a young writer without a ready idea. 

Sometimes I tie the extra, fun challenge to the day, or have our warm-up question relate to it somehow. Any of these activities might also have ties to the mentor text we may be using or the brain break in the middle of our block, as well. I do my best to keep things fun and relevant.

As I was planning the lesson for today, though, all the pieces really fell into place. In case you weren't aware, March 31 is National Tater Day. Before I even knew about that, the model text I planned to share was Potato Pants. Of course the question of the day had to be What's your favorite way to eat potatoes? and the extra challenge? Do the Mashed Potato (video instructions and music provided).

The spud-themed day was a hit, full of spirited debate about fries vs tots, laughter at the antics of the main character in Potato Pants, and toe twisting to the 1962 classic by Dee Dee Sharp. (We also got some writing done!)

Even so, the kids had a couple of ideas to make the day even better. "We should eat potato chips!" suggested one.

"And our brain break should be to play Hot Potato!" added another.

"Yes and yes!" I said.

Thank goodness National Tater Day comes every year!

3 Ds and All Ears

I lost my patience with a sixth grader today. 

That may sound routine, but for those of us who have committed our careers to the tweens and early teens, patience, along with empathy and a sense of humor, is one of our sharpest tools. I could tell you my side of the story-- give you evidence that she was unquestionably disruptive, disrespectful, and defiant, and I could use the testimony of my colleagues to support my observations. I could also describe how productive the class was in her absence, once they recovered from witnessing our interaction. 

All of those things would support my claim that I was justified in my response, but I know I wasn't. 

And when I spoke to her after class did she initially deny knowing what she had done wrong? Yep. Was she eventually backed into admitting her mistakes by my teacher logic? Yep again. But when, frustrated and angry, she told me that I never listen to her side of the story, I had to admit to myself that she probably had a point.

I like to think that I give a lot of grace to my students, even more so now, considering what I assume these kids have been through in the last 2 years, but maybe it's time to stop making assumptions, and start listening.

A Snow Covered Hill

I've always loved the song Landslide for its simple truth:

Time makes you bolder.
Even children get older,
and I'm getting older, too.

But time is a little warpy when you teach the same grade for nearly 30 years. The kids stay the same age, and it kind of feels like you do, too. 

Oh, sure, the kids you know (and love) personally grow older, and there are always those former students who you run into out in the community, at least the ones you can recognize despite how much they've changed. Those experiences help adjust the rearview a little.

Even so, I'm at a stage in my personal life where the children are older, but not to the point where they have children of their own, so it's been a while since someone handed me a 3-week old baby. But yesterday? That changed when we went over to visit neighbors and meet their new daughter, Olivia. Oh, I could have held her for hours-- watching her stretch and yawn and blink, smelling that soft powder and sour milk, rocking her, and patting her soft diapered bottom. 

Yep, still miraculous.

Check Your Surroundings

I pride myself on my parallel parking prowess. In fact, one of my jokey retirement job ideas used to be to buy a Segway and roll around DC parking cars in tight spaces for a nominal 5 dollar fee. I'd have an app of course, and when my business took off, I'd leverage my infrastructure, sell my start-up, and retire from my retirement. 

That's why I didn't hesitate at all when I saw that left-hand spot on the town green in Leonardtown. I pulled right up next to the pick-up ahead, cut the wheel, lined up my right taillight with the front head light of the car behind me, and hit the gas gently, but decisively. You can't imagine the twist in my stomach when I heard the sickening scrape of metal on metal. I cussed, braked, and looked ahead to assess the situation. 

It was only then that I noticed that the tailgate of the pick-up was lowered and out of my line of vision. When I eased into the space and hopped out to assess the damage, I saw that I had gashed the top front left panel of my car, sundering it from the lower panel and caving in the wheel-well trim. 

With a carful of hungry folks ready to have lunch and a fun afternoon on their weekend at the beach, I tried to shrug it off and look at the bright side: no one was hurt, the car was drivable, the truck was undamaged. Still, every time clouds covered the late March sun, I shivered in the chill, wishing for a do-over.

Scarcity

From the outside, the grocery store looked very appealing. "Fine Food and Pharmacy" read the banner, and smaller signs touted "Local Seafood" "Butcher" "Family-owned" "Chef-inspired Menus" "Ethically-sourced coffee". Since we just needed a few things for dinner, we decided to stop instead of driving the extra miles to the big new chain grocery down the road.

When the sliding glass doors whooshed open, the produce and prepared food department were literally deserted. In the hot food and deli section, all the cases and steam tables were empty and the lights were turned off. Many of the bins and baskets were empty in produce, too, but for single bunches of shriveled parsley and yellowed broccoli crowns. There were zero lemons and limes, so we moved slowly into the store to check out the meat and seafood. Those counters, too, were closed and their cases empty. A few wrapped trays of meat and fish were in the refrigerated cases, but the selection was not wide. We found some beef tenderloin on sale and a few frozen lamb chops, though.

This scene repeated itself as we rolled our cart up and down the aisles. Perhaps 30 percent of the shelves were stocked: no bread, but they had slider rolls, no rice, but they had arborio rice, no french fries, but they had tater tots, and no milk, but they had chocolate almond milk. 

In this way, we were able to check off most of the items on our list, but as we did so we saw, maybe? Four other shoppers and not a single employee until we went to the self-check, which was the only cash-out open. 

I am not a chatty person by any means, but beyond the expected pleasantries, I just had to ask, "How come your grocery store doesn't have any food?"

"Trucks not comin'," she answered tersely and did not speak to me again until I passed her with my bag. "Have a wonderful day," she said mechanically as the exit doors slid open and we left the store, wondering what in the world was happening back there.

Compressed

We have a lot of vacationing to do in 60 hours, and so after a walk on the beach, a hearty breakfast, a run to the local seafood market and Buzzy's General Store, (not to mention a trial run of the industrial oyster-opener) the six of us piled into the Subaru, which only seats five. 

With a pillow from one of the chairs on the screened porch, Bill made himself comfortable in the way back, even grabbing a nap on the 35-minute ride to Leonardtown. There we ate a delicious lunch (after an unfortunate parking incident of which I prefer not to speak), and set out to retrace our fun shopping trip from 2018. 

We found that many of the local businesses we had enjoyed had either moved or succumbed to the COVID economy, but we also browsed a new and used book store, an art coop gallery, an artisanal chocolate shop, and a maker's market for local entrepreneurs, housed in an old warehouse. Then it was back into the station wagon and on to a tiny strip mall for groceries and booze. 

Back at home, Treat and I dumped out the 300-piece jigsaw puzzle I had purchased, confident that we could complete it before we had to pack up, and an hour later, the image of Edward Gorey's Dancing Cats was all together on the coffee table. Then it was on to dinner and other pursuits. Never a dull moment, because there aren't many moments to spare.