My Friendliest Friend

We were checking out the offerings at our local farmers market when my friend from Colorado pointed to a stall. "What are those?" she asked wide-eyed.

They were mushrooms, several varieties luxuriantly arranged in plain wooden quart containers. Most of the markets in this area have them, and I usually pass by without stopping. "Can we go look?" she asked, and so we stepped beneath the awning and admired them.

"I know nothing about mushrooms like this," my friend told the vendor earnestly. "Do you mind telling me about them?"

The young woman's face lit up and she smiled excitedly. "Not at all!" she answered. 

And that is how we heard the story of how the daughter of farmers started growing mushrooms as a COVID project, expanding into her neighbor's shed when they no longer needed it, adding humidity controls and air conditioning for year-round growing. She told us that she acquired her her mycelium through the mail, and that it arrived suspended in a nutrient-rich liquid which she injected into organic grain, usually spelt or millet, to colonize it, before transferring the spawn to a sawdust substrate, which she got at local lumber mills and sterilized.

She showed us the varieties she had, and explained their flavor, texture, and any medicinal qualities. She gave pointers about how to prepare both the stems and the caps, and she also told us that she had recently acquired some shared commercial kitchen space which she was looking forward to using to create and package mushroom products to sell alongside her fresh mushrooms. 

Her passion and enthusiasm were so positive and engaging that we walked away, after buying a quart each of lion's mane and king oyster, feeling lighter than we had when we stopped. "I never would have talked to her," I told my friend, "but I sure am glad you did!"

Busyday Saturday

We had errands this morning, a baby shower tea at 2, and an appointment with Sir Elton at 8 sharp. Thank goodness it’s a long weekend!

Tile by Tile

This is not the time of year for me to make any decisions about my career.

One month on, it seems like students should be settling in as systems and procedures become familiar, but that is not what is happening. The kids from 7th grade are still coming back, seeking the comfortable routine we worked for 10 months to establish, and the new sixth graders are still dazed and confused by the expectations their predecessors eventually mastered.

But I know the key word is "eventually". I know that last year at this time I was still working hard and waiting for everything to click, and even feeling a little discouraged that those kids didn't get how great the class could be, if only they gave it a chance. If I think about it, I will recollect what a slog the first unit always is, and I will understand that building community and relationships takes time, especially after the initial excitement of a new school year wears off.

And so I must resolve to carry on and make adjustments for the new group when necessary, to be mindful that some of the activities that were awesome last year might not be as good a fit this time around, and to notice the new magic whenever it happens. Like today, my homeroom was playing Bananagrams (which they like, but not quite the same way my last group did), when at the end of the game one student proclaimed that the longest word in the English language was antidisestablishmentarianism.

I laughed. "That used to be true," I assured him, "But it's another word now. My students last year taught me that." I sighed a little inside before I continued brightly. "Look it up! Find out what it is!"

I was encouraging another group to find a book to read when the Bananagrams kids called me over. 

"We're trying to spell pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis with the game tiles, but we don't have enough Cs," one reported.

"But we decided just to flip some tiles over so that you will know the blanks are supposed to be C!" his buddy added.

"What does that even mean?" asked another student.

"You can figure it out," I said and pointed at the row of tiles. "Pneumo means breathing or lungs, and ultra means extremely or a lot. Microscopic means--"

"Small!" a student supplied, and I nodded.

"Silico refers to the element silicon and you know volcano, right?" I looked into several shining eyes. This was exciting to them. "The rest of the word just means it has to do with a medical condition."

"So it means some kind of small, silicon particle that hurts your lungs, right?" one of them deduced.

"Close!" I clapped. "It's the name of the disease that happens when you breathe a particle like that."

Just then the bell rang. They looked at each other, deflated because they weren't quite done spelling.

"Go ahead and finish!" I told them. "I'll write you a pass."

My other class filed in as they plucked Os and Ns and Is and arranged them at the end of the word. Some were very interested in what was happening, and one guy knew the word, spelled it, and gave us a definition.

"Take a picture with your iPad," I encouraged them when they were through, which they did. 

Everyone was smiling as we quickly scooped the tiles into their banana-shaped bag. "That was fun!" one student said as I signed the pass.

"Yeah it was!" I agreed.

Fear Itself

After the test today, the kids were squirmy and rambunctious. It didn't help matters any in my class that we were kicking off a new unit about courage, and so the question of the day was What is something you think is scary?

Of course everyone had lots of ideas and comments, but no one seemed capable of listening to anyone else, so I redirected the group several times in my booming teacher voice, and fine-tuned the attention of several individuals with personal reminders. 

When one kid who had been talking over others the whole time finally got his turn to share, he said, "I'm afraid of small places, and--" he turned to look purposefully at me, "strict teachers."

"If only that were true," I said, "it would be a lot quieter in here!"

As a Bird

My friend, who is in town from Colorado, lives in a small exurban town, and so the numerous shared bikes and scooters and sitting scooters that dot the streets of our much more urban community were all new to her. 

Free from the troubling considerations of how dockless vehicles can become a nuisance or worse, all my friend saw was how much fun they looked, and I in turn realized how jaded I have become in the years since I could barely pass a scooter without unlocking it and taking it for a weeeeeeee ride. 

And so we spent our afternoon scootering all around town, down bike lanes, on paved trails, through parks, and along city streets, pausing to admire views of the airport, the monuments, and the river, and even stopping at the grocery store before scootering home. 

"This is so much fuuuuuun!" my friend shouted more than a few times.

The final leg of our adventure took us up a big hill, and I made it to the top a minute or more before she did.

"A car cut me off," my friend reported. 

"Oh," I laughed, "I was sure you were going to tell me your thumb was sore from coming up such a big hill!"

"I have to admit," she lifted her right hand from the throttle and wiggled the thumb, "it is getting quite a workout!"

Sweet Nothings

Another week, another round of state and local mandated universal testing at school. Since the beginning of the year our middle school students have been required to take a math inventory, a reading growth assessment and inventory, a reading standards assessment, and they have a math standards assessment scheduled for Thursday. 

Since today and Thursday's tests were all-school, we followed a modified schedule with 90 minutes of testing followed by shortened block classes. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I planned my lessons and activities, but it should have been something along the lines of, They will have been sitting silently for hours; don't try to get much done!

Even posting a picture of their favorite candy for a warm up took way longer than it should have, and the pent up energy in the room made what should have been a fun and easy conversation a little nasty and tense. In both sections I had to remind the group that I didn't ask what they thought the best candy was, I asked for their favorites. "Can there really be any debate about that?" I wondered pointedly.

And although they dutifully admitted that all of us are welcome to our opinion, there was still a lot of trash talking, especially the cookies-n-cream bar. "I hate white chocolate!" one kid groaned loudly.

"Who asked you?" I inquired in reply.

They were just being contrary. Because when I offered each a chance to speak on behalf of their favorite, not many chose to say much, besides, The picture speaks for itself.

Maybe so, but not many were listening!

Boys Do Cry

In the three weeks we've been in school, our sixth grade interdisciplinary team's student concerns conversations with the counselor have been predominantly about boys. That in itself is not unusual: boys often demonstrate frustration, anxiety, or other emotional discomfort more outwardly than girls, and so their troubles are easier to spot.

But these boys? Have been crying in class. 

Where in the past we might have seen anger, aggression, and defiance, this year we observe tantrums and tears. But interestingly enough, the parents are a little different too. On the first call home from school, one guy's mom answered, Don't tell me, it's about N's behavior.

And in an email to school, another mom wrote, I want to emphasize that crying and emotional expression is quite normal for him instead of abnormal and worrying to us. He is sensitive and emotes freely.

All righty, then.