Tell Your Dog I Said Hi

To us, it seems like a bad habit when Lucy stands at the open window upstairs and barks at any passer-by with a dog. Over the years we have analyzed the tone, volume, delivery, and energy of the bark and determined that there is a difference between her response to the dogs she knows and those she doesn't. Some she greets; some she warns. In every case, we shush her.

Tonight, as one of our neighbors walked by with the pup she is sitting for, Lucy was extra loud alerting us to knowns and unknowns alike. Our friend looked up to the window and waved. "Hi, Lu!"

That? Quieted Lucy right down.

Don't Be Silly

Against my better teacher judgment, I agreed to get Silly String as a prize for the writing challenge last month. What's perhaps even more surprising is that I actually made the decision after a student in another class got in trouble for making a mess in the hallway with a can of the stuff. I was marginally involved with the incident, and the students in my class at the time were very, very intrigued with the actual Silly String. Many of them had never seen or heard of it before.

In my defense, I wanted to motivate them to write more, but since then, I've had some second thoughts about putting projectiles, even soft synthetic ones, into the hands of impulsive 12-year-olds, especially at the end of the school year. Visions of Silly String calamities ending with, You got it where?! filled my head, but I had given my word, so I put my money where my mouth was and purchased 12 cans.

Today was the day when the writing prizes were awarded, and I was delighted that there was so much writing to reward. I did put a few restrictions on the silly string, though. 

"You have to put it right in your backpack, and you cannot even get it out until you are off campus!" I warned one student, in a serious voice. "Do you ride the bus?"

"Yes," he said.

"Then not even until you are off the bus!" I told him. "And don't spray it near anybody's face, either!"

"I won't," he promised earnestly.

Just then the phone rang. It was the assistant principal asking for him to come to the office.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! hooted his classmates when I delivered the message.

He stood up, confident that he wasn't in trouble. "I don't even have the Silly String, yet!" he laughed.

The Way They See It

I asked the students what advice they had for the young writers who would be in the class next year, and to borrow a phrase from a colleague of mine: Man! They gave me the blues!

Don’t get on Ms. S's bad side 

 Finish your work early so Ms. S has time to criticize it. 

 don’t sit on Miss S's stool without permission or else you might lose a limb. 

 Finish your assignments in class and don’t get on Ms S's bad side she will steal your lungs 

 Don’t argue with Ms. S. And also do NOT CALL MS. S A GRANDMA!!!! 

RUN FAR AWAY BECAUSE SHE WILL MAKE YOU WRITE SO MANY THINGS 

Work hard because she gives tough grades 

 Listen to Ms. S every second 

 Don’t be sad if your writing is bad. 

 If something is summative, do your best. We all know it’s a hard class. 

 Be cautious because you never know what will set teachers off 

 But a few appreciated the rigor and style of the class: 

Work hard And help will come along…DUN DUN DUN Ms. S. to the RESCUEEE!!! 

Try your best and always listen to Ms.S. and you will do good in English 

Write write write

And one? Even seemed to totally get it: 

Follow the directions and don't try to overthink your writing because if you just keep trying to get down every single specific detail right away then you won’t get anywhere for a while. Just let the writing come naturally first and then revise it. Listen to feedback.

Now that's good advice! 

Facial Recognition Software

Several years ago our school started an alumni barbecue. Held one afternoon in June, all the high school kids who went through middle school here are invited back for hot dogs and lemonade. The food is welcome, but seeing their former classmates and teachers is the biggest draw, of course.

After 2 years away from that tradition, we reinstated it today, and 3 PM found a bunch of teachers gathered out back somewhat nervously-- Will I know anyone? Will I recognize them? Will they remember me? Then little by little in pairs and trios kids started arriving, and they, too, looked nervously around until they spotted a familiar face, which made their own light up.

They were supposed to wear name tags, but not everyone did, and they were a little shy, too. The faces were sort of recognizable, but not always. "Do you remember me?" asked one student. "I'm Zosia!" 

Her name was blown away by the breeze, and I couldn't place her, but her friend came to the rescue. "She used to be about this tall,"they said holding a hand by their waist.

"Zosia!" I said, and she smiled. Then I turned to the friend. "Thank you! That was very helpful!"

Finally, it got to the point where if I saw a face I knew I knew, I just went over to the kid and asked their name, because it was better than being put on the spot. Even so, that plan didn't always work. A colleague and I stood close together then, to help each other out, and when a student came up and engaged us in conversation, it gave me a little time to access this aging memory bank when my friend was talking.

"Sariah!" I said in one such situation, and she beamed

"You remember my name?" she asked with delight.

"I do!" I told her. "I do!"

Adaptations

Years ago my cousin gave me her recipe for date nut bread. It was a staple at our Thanksgiving get togethers, and since she passed away in 2000, I treasure the handwritten card as well as the recipe itself. The technique is one I have not seen in other quick breads: it involves pouring boiling water over dried dates, sugar, a stick of butter, and baking soda. When the butter is melted, 2 eggs are added, and then flour, a pinch of salt, and the chopped nuts. The resulting bread is dark and moist, sweet and buttery, delicious, really.

Just in the last year or so I have begun experimenting by using the method with other dried fruit. The results have been very good, especially the sour cherry pecan, studded with white chocolate chips. Today at the farmers market my eye was drawn to a bag of dried apple wedges and a bunch rhubarb. I purchased the duo, considering just how they might be combined. Sandy's recipe was the answer. Apples, rhubarb, and pecans, with a touch of apple pie spice and a little extra cinnamon, all baked up into an amazing loaf. Sweet, tart, nutty, dense and buttery, just a thin slice is a satisfying snack.

On Hand

Last Saturday I woke up determined to make ice cream, strawberry ice cream in fact, using a recipe my mother gave me a few years ago. I didn't have all the ingredients, but rather than let that stop me, I substituted a few things and ended up with an entirely different version. 

The almond strawberry swirl was delicious in its own way, but after enjoying a pint and a half this week, today I woke up determined to make strawberry almond tea bread with what was left. After melting the 2 cups in the microwave, I added a couple eggs, some lemon-lime syrup I had going, ginger, cinnamon, 2 cups of flour, and some leavening, and baked it off.

The result was very pleasant, moist and firm, with good strawberry flavor, along with subtle notes of almond, citrus and spice. Such a loaf may never exist again, so we will enjoy it while we have it.

Pride is Pride

One of the teacher for a day lessons will celebrate Pride Month by taking a look at all the sexual identity flags. The student teacher prepared a slide show to share with her classmates featuring an image of each flag along with an explanation. 

As I scanned through her slides, I had to stop at the one with a pride banner featuring gray, green, and white stripes. Aromatic it read. It took me a beat before I realized that auto-correct had struck again, transforming the word aromantic. Even as I type now, there is a menacing red squiggle under that word. 

I'll take care to leave it as I have written it, but I can't stop thinking about Aromatic Pride, and what that flag might look like.