No Confidence

We have adopted a new textbook this school year, and today I made the first assignment from the online version. The learning curve was moderately steep, as neither the students nor I had never used the interface, and I couldn't see what their end looked like until they pulled it up in class. It was relatively intuitive, though, and I was up front with them about how new the tools were. 

Even so, I spent the class circulating through the room, checking in and troubleshooting as best I could. Some of the support I offered was more content-related, and that was fine, too. We were reading the lyric poem, "Life Doesn't Frighten Me" by Maya Angelou, and answering the pre-formulated questions, something I have rarely done in my career. 

I have designed my own lessons based on student needs and interests for 30 years, but this publication is touted for being closely aligned to and supportive of our state standards (and hence the test), so who am I to kvetch? One of the items was phrased in such a way that many students were confused, however, and I found myself clarifying the directions over and over. 

The students were supposed to Annotate: In lines 13–21, Highlight the phrase that is repeated in most of the stanzas. I think the disconnect was that it wasn't clear that they were looking for one phrase in that section that was repeated throughout the poem. As a result, many students spent time trying to find repetition within that particular passage, which wasn't there, beyond the pronoun 'I'. If I had written the question myself, I would have revised it after the first class so that it was less perplexing, but we were stuck with it. 

After I helped one student, he came up to me reproachfully a little while later. "You told me that I was supposed to highlight "Life doesn't frighten me at all"! he said indignantly. "But when I looked at Lucas's, I saw I was wrong. He highlighted 'I' all the way through!"

"Really?" I replied, looking over my glasses with raised eyebrows. "You looked at another student's work after I helped you, and you think his is right and not yours?"

"Uh," he hesitated.

"Why don't you go back and help Lucas correct his," I suggested, shaking my head. 

Out of Practice

That third day of the long weekend turned out to be perfect for an activity we haven't undertaken so much lately. I'm not sure why we haven't been hiking more these days-- there was a time when it was almost an every weekend kind of thing-- but since we got home from Maine in early July, our feet have not neared a trail. Blame the summer heat, but even before June, our walks have been generally paved and in the neighborhood. Before this, I'm pretty sure our last wooded ramble was back in February for Lucy's birthday.

Which is why I made sure to make our group a heart breakfast of eggs and butternut squash hone fries, before loading our packs with hummos and veggies, apple slices, almond butter, pretzels, string cheese, and banana bread, so that we would be well-prepared as we headed south to Prince William Forest.

Even though she was from this area and has spent a huge part of her life outdoors, camping, climbing, skiing, biking, and hiking, my friend had never been to this relatively little-known national park, and I was eager to show it to her. Until probably about 10 years or so ago, I hadn't been there either. Since then, we have explored many of the trails in the 15,000 acre forest, and we have also found that one signature hike, a 6 mile in and out, complete with a dog swimming hole, boardwalk, abandoned pyrite mine, and waterfall, that we love to take with friends.

Today, though, despite the perfect temperature, light breeze, deserted trails, and Elton John sing-along? After not hiking much lately, those were 

six. 

long. 

miles!

It felt good to be back on the trail, though, and I'm hopeful we're going to get out there a little more this fall.

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!"