One in the Win Column

 "Double or nothing!" a former student challenged me this afternoon. 

He had come by after school looking for some candy. He remembered I like trivia, and so he had already asked me one. "What day and time did Abraham Lincoln die?"

"Uh," I said, "I do know it was April 15, 1865. I'm not sure about the time, though. 1:30 in the morning?"

"Wrong!" he reported gleefully. "It was 7:22 in the morning!"

"OK," I shrugged and reached for my bag of Jolly Ranchers. I didn't care that I was wrong; I'm still really happy to see the kids from last year. These new students haven't quite managed to take their places, yet.

"Double or nothing!" he replied.

"Sure!" I accepted, but he couldn't think of a question. Another teacher from the team was in my room watching the entire exchange with amusement. 

"Do you speak Spanish?" he asked. 

"No," I confessed.

"Wait!" said the other teacher. "I think she got that one right! Doesn't it count?"

We all laughed, but the kid looked a little crestfallen at having missed his chance to get two pieces of candy.

"I forgot you speak French," he said.

"But you remember that now?" I asked, impressed. "I think that earns you a couple of Jolly Ranchers! It makes me feel good that you were paying attention. Those are good social skills!"

I happily handed over the candy, and he happily took it. 

Festival of Lights

The homepage on my browser is the NYTimes. The setting works for me because I am generally interested in current events, and that page informs me of any pressing matters I may not have been aware of. I like it, too, because it's like picking up the newspaper anytime I go online, and often I'll spend some significant time reading articles that capture my attention, no matter what my original task was. 

That's what happened tonight when I launched my browser to write this very blog post. I had a vague idea of topic, but the item that derailed me was on Diwali sweets. After getting this Indian holiday off for the first time last year, I was all in for the traditional festival celebrating the triumph of light over darkness. Even just reading about the joyous celebration made me happy.

And this evening, when I read about the South Asian sweet shops across the country that are flooded with business as celebrants purchase mithai, traditional sweets of Diwali (for what better way to celebrate such a victory?), I found myself getting right into that holiday spirit!

Just Sayin'

 I did not spend my whole day grading poems.

And so that task is unfinished. There's something wrong with a job you have to work all week and then give up your weekends to get done.

More is More

We finally got around to putting up our Halloween lights this afternoon. 

I write that as if it's an annual occurrence, but we have never had anything other than a jack-o-lantern lighting our home before. Heidi is still embracing the holiday light vibe, though, and so I ordered a few things from Target a couple of weeks ago, and then we supplemented our decor when we went to pick those lights up. 

And although I haven't been able to find that dedicated block of time to get down the step ladder and actually decorate, the light design has definitely been on my mind. Last week I ordered a set of green shower-effect lights, and just the other day I told Heidi we needed one more string of purple lights. So when the porch light blinked on around 4:15, I knew my window of opportunity was both open and closing, and I climbed up to the attic and got the step ladder down. 

Like everything, this project was more complicated than planned; there were hammers, pliers, drills, and extension cords involved, as well as a non-functioning string of lights. Even so, Heidi and I worked together to problem solve and hang those suckers up. It was deep dusk when we finished, and neighbors passing by stopped to admire our handiwork. 

"It looks great!" noted one friend, sweeping her hand to encompass green waterfalls, purple c-5s, Halloween mulits, and spider paper lanterns.

I shrugged modestly. "You know Heidi," I said. "More is more!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" my wife elbowed me.

"You have gusto!" I answered. "Your enthusiasm is a really good thing."

She looked at me suspiciously.

"And the lights are amazing!" I said.

Props

It was the last class of the day, fifth time I had taught the lesson, and five minutes until the kids were gone for the weekend. "Would anyone like to share their quick write?" I asked. 

The presence of the assistant principal who had dropped by unannounced to see what we were doing added a bit of energy to the exercise, but it was still feeling a little rote. 

The first couple kids who read were notable for their earnest engagement with the prompt, and I glanced at the clock. "We have time for one more," I said. The student next to me had raised his hand each time, and it was his turn now. 

"'Baseball is my favorite sport, I lied'," he started, and my eye brows shot up with interest. "It wasn't true," he continued, "I loved soccer, but I wanted these boys to accept me."

What followed was an amazing sketch, and when he finished, the assistant principal and I locked eyes with a What just happened?? kind of a look. Just then, the bell rang, and I dismissed the class, but not before I told that writer how well he had done.

In the last 30 years, I have read the work of thousands of sixth graders, and there have been several who I could easily imagine becoming way better writers than I will ever be, but this kid? He might be there already.

Doctor's Orders

I had my first over sixty eye exam today. "Your eyes look perfect," the doctor said. "Especially for a woman of your age-- no dry eye, glaucoma, floaters, or cataracts. And no sign of macular degeneration, which is more common in fair people like us." She seemed genuinely impressed.

I gulped and looked around for some wood to knock. Who knew these were things I needed to worry about? "Thank you," I managed.

"You're welcome," she said. "Keep exercising and eating those vegetables, and I'll see you next year."

Oh, I will. I certainly will.

Dinastía

"I put the good news that your nephew joined the staff on the leadership agenda," my friend and colleague Matt told me this morning.

I knew just what he was talking about. For the last many years I was in that group as team leader, we started every meeting by sharing good news and kudos. I had also read the minutes of the meeting; old habits die hard, I guess. And of course I knew that my nephew Treat had joined the staff to work in Heidi's program

"We think he's the fourth parent-child employee for our school," Matt said, because Treat's mom, my sister-in-law, is the art teacher at our school.

"Fourth!" I responded with furrowed brow. "I know there's Nicki and Garret," I began.

"And Nicki and her mom way back when," he continued. 

I nodded. Nicki, a veteran special education teacher, had started as a personal assistant for a student in my TA over 20 years ago. At the time, her mom was the special ed lead in our building. Nicki's next position was as Heidi's assistant, but by then she was working on her teaching credentials and starting a family. We had all watched her son Garret grow up, even as we mourned the loss of her mom to cancer.

"That makes three," I said.

"Me and my mom!" Matt reminded me. I smiled and nodded, remembering that five years ago when he joined our staff, Matt's mother had been our longtime library assistant. 

"Amazing!" I marveled. "What a testament to our school and community! Not to mention all the former students who have also come back to work here."

Even right across the river from the capital of one of the most powerful countries in the world, in one of the fastest growing places in the country, we still keep those small town connections.