K is for Kid Stuff

The brain break for my classes today was a 50 yard dash. Between the first set of interviews and the flip flop to the second, I took the kids right out front, lined them up, paced off 50 yards, and let them run. The brain break is always optional-- and I said so today to the students in Crocs and the other in ankle-high boots. "You don't have to run," I advised them, but the Croc-wearing kids secured their back straps and took a starting position and the girl in boots kicked them off to run in her socks. And when they had sprinted the distance, they just lined up again so they could run back.

5 minutes after we had left, we were back in the classroom, and the writers were rocking those interviews.

Life Lesson: Kids just need to run sometimes!

O is for Overdoing It

How glad I was when I pulled my gardening clothes on at 3 this afternoon, leaving behind hours of grading and planning! I hadn't intended to go to the garden until later, but a colleague had texted,  reminding me of her offer of rhubarb and peppers to plant, so off I went. Stopping first at her home to pick up my seedlings, I headed directly to the garden afterward. 

By then the clouds had cleared, and the day was warm and a bit muggy. A slight breeze made the work bearable, but it was a balmy hour and half later that I coiled the hoses, snipped the peonies to bring home to Heidi, and locked the gate behind me. 

Once the flowers were safely arranged in a mason jar, there were still a couple of errands to run and after washing up I went back out to the grocery and garden center. Arriving home after 6, I finished planting the hanging baskets on our deck and started dinner. 

And just now, as the gumbo simmers and I settled wearily into my chair to compose this daily missive, I had the notion that it all might have been a little too much.

Life Lesson: Too much of a good thing is still too much.

P is for Peanuts and Crackerjack

There comes a moment every spring when something-- an outing, a hike, a meal, a movie, something-- evokes summer so trenchantly that my spirit lifts and my heart sings. This year it was Friday night at the ballpark. We are sharing season tickets to the Nats with a few of our neighbors, and last night was the first of our five games. 

All day long we fretted about rain and traffic and the unfamiliarity of the experience, but the sun was shining when we hopped in the car at 6:15, and traffic wasn't too bad, and we parked in a garage right at the stadium, and our seats were good, though the team was not. Watching the sun set and then the moon rise, and being under the lights, and smelling the food, and waving our caps, and getting up to move, and watching all the people, was fun and felt just like summer.

Life lesson: S minus 34 and counting!

W is for Waterless

The texts started as we left school: Courtbridge Geyser! Water main break! The pictures were even more dramatic-- a spume of water gushed 20 feet in the air from the center of the parking lot just outside our windows. When we pulled in, half the loop road that leads around our complex was closed, but the text chain had already informed us that the fountain was shut off and so was the water. 

The expected repair time was many hours, and we were informed that the water would probably be off until morning. How strange it was to be without a ready supply of something we take for granted. Fortunately for us, we had a few things in our favor-- three toilets and a big jug of filtered water in the fridge, but it was still an unsatisfactory evening. And when we went to bed, the work crew was still at it with halogen lights and jack hammers right outside our window, where they remained all night long. 

Rising to the alarm at 5 am, I peered out the window to another geyser spraying over and above our upper balcony. At first I despaired, assuming that this was a sign that the repair did not hold, but then I realized that if the water was on, our water was on, too. So I sprinted through the house flushing toilets and grabbing pitchers to fill. Sadly, before I could collect more than a quart or two, the stream from the faucet slowed to a trickle, and both our water and the fountain outside were gone again.

BUT, at a little before 7, on a whim I flipped on the kitchen faucet, and water flowed freely again. I've always known intellectually how fortunate we are to have all the clean water we want, but looking back on the ordeal and how it felt to be forced to eat leftovers instead of cooking, use hand sanitizer instead of washing, and brush my teeth with a half cup of water, I realized that my gratitude for this resource is not nearly enough.

Life Lesson: You never know how lucky you are to have something until you lose it.

J is for Justice

The question of the day today was What is something about you that would surprise most people? Since we are working on the journalism profile unit where writers must interview another student in the class, I'm trying to ask questions that will help them find a starting place, as well as model appropriate follow-up questions when they share their answers.

It was a successful question; we found out all sorts of interesting and intriguing things about the people we have been working closely with for the last 8 1/2 months. One student with fiery red hair wrote that two things people were often surprised about were that she didn't dye her hair and that she was straight.

"Really?" asked another kid.

"Really," she confirmed. "When I tell people I'm straight, they always ask, 'Are you sure?'"

She laughed, and we did, too. I personally marveled at how different the world is for these kids than it was even just a few years ago. In my sixth grade classes there are 3 kids who identify as transgender and several whose preferred pronouns are they/them.

The next student's surprising fact was that their mother dated a professional basketball player. "I don't know which one," they added.

"You don't know which basketball player or which mom?" asked another student.

See what I mean?

Life Lesson: The arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice. ~Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

S is for Strict

 "I can't make the writing challenge,"  a student reported to me today. "I've missed too many days."

"It's true," I agreed. "There aren't enough days left in the school year. I guess that's both a blessing and a curse."

He nodded. "A blessing because we'll be on summer vacation, and a curse because no prize for me."

"It's also a little sad for me because I have to say good-bye to you guys since you're moving up to seventh grade. I'm going to miss you!"

"Wait!" interjected another student. "You actually like us?"

I laughed, but I could see that the student was sincere and her remark hit home and hurt my heart a little. "Yeah I like you!" I told the class. "You guys are one of the best groups I've ever taught!" 

Although there were a few who were clearly pleased, there were others who seemed skeptical. "Just because I don't let you go off the rails doesn't mean I don't like you," I explained.

"It's actually the opposite," one student agreed.

"It really is," I said.

Life Lesson: Subtext is crucial.

N is for Not so Much

We have just 2 episodes left of the Netflix show Ozark. Even though they drop the series a season (or half) at a time, our definition of binge watching means watching 1 episode a day every day for a week or so. Back in 2017, when the series premiered, there was something thrilling about the dark tale of Marty and Wendy Byrde, a Chicago couple of questionable ethics who get mixed up with a Mexican drug cartel and find themselves laundering money in the Ozarks, but five years on, the suspense and sudden violence are no longer as entertaining as they once were. 

"I don't think I'm the same person I was when we first started watching this show," I said to Heidi after one episode. "The show is still really good, and I want to know how it all turns out, but I'm not really enjoying watching."

She nodded sympathetically, and I thought back over all the events of the last five years. 

Yeah. I'm definitely a different person now.

Life Lesson: Let go of what no longer serves you.