Starting Early

Was it my imagination or were the sixth graders extra wild these last two days? 

It almost seems like their early release revved them up more than a little. "Thank you!" said the math teacher on my team when I mentioned my observation. "I'm glad to know it wasn't just me."

"Oh it isn't," I assured her. "In fact my worst class today was actually my best, because that's how crazy the others have been."

I'm really hoping they will settle down over the weekend, because otherwise? With just one week left before break, we're in for a long one.

On the Bias

"The rules apply to everyone," I said to my homeroom student who did not want to remove his hood during the assembly. 

"Why are you making such a big deal?" he scoffed. "When literally everyone is wearing a hat."

I looked around and didn't see any hats.

"You know "literally" means something is actually true," I said. "Where are the hats?"

He turned away in a huff.

"I don't make the rules, but it's my job to make sure they are followed," I explained as we headed back to 

"The rules apply to everyone," said Kirsten Dunst as the strict and implicitly biased supervisor, Mrs. Mitchell, in Hidden Figures.

She was talking to Octavia Spencer's character, Dorothy Vaughan, about her request for a promotion. Dorothy Vaughan was visibly displeased.

"I don't make the rules," Mrs. Mitchell said, "but I do have to enforce them."

I looked over at the kid from earlier in the day, feeling a little guilty about the parallels between their interaction and ours. He was rocking in the rocking chair munching on popcorn, and if he noticed any similarities, he didn't show it.

"I am not racist,' Mrs. Mitchell told Mrs. Vaughan a little later in the movie.

"I know," Mrs. Vaughan nodded. "I know you believe that." 

Lost Time

Today was the annual winter concert for students, and as always I reviewed the expectations for appropriate behavior with my homeroom before they called us down to the theater. 

"Why do they call it an assembly?" one kid asked.

"Because we are all assembled together for the event," I answered. "Does that make sense?"

He shrugged.

"Didn't you call them assemblies in elementary school?" I asked.

"Well, yeah," he told me, "but we haven't really had one for the last three years."

Point? Taken.

That Might Make Us Feel better

"We can bring snacks," I told my homeroom when they expressed disappointment at having to watch a 2 hour movie and go to an assembly on the first early release day. "Things are only as good as your attitude."

I knew what I was talking about. I had voted against a movie weeks before when the topic came up, but I was overruled when I was out of town before Thanksgiving. Even so, we could only make the best of it. And that was the way we approached it this morning before we did our current events activity. 

"Remember to bring snacks to share tomorrow, if you want to," I reminded them before clicking over to the NY Times news quiz for kids. When everyone was through, (as a group, they love that sort of challenge), a recipe popped up on the bottom of my screen,  Salted Caramel Peanut Butter.

"Can we have that?" one student joked.

I considered for a minute. "Do we have any peanut or gluten allergies?"

"Wait. Really?" said another kid.

"Sure," I shrugged. "I'll bake them tonight."

And so I did. 

Diminishing Returns

For many years, I have done my best to finish my school work before leaving for the day. That way, I am free and clear to focus on other things once I push through those heavy safety glass doors. But for those same many years, I have been one of the last to leave the building. Most evenings the halls are quiet, but for the vacuum of the custodian, and often even the main office is dark and locked when I slip by on my way out.

In that respect, working from home during the pandemic was a lot better for me. I was able to take personal breaks and come back to my work in a more seamless way. Exercise and chores, for example, seemed much easier to fit in.

So recently it occurred to me that perhaps it's time to change things up. And so I have resolved to leave school much earlier and restructure my afternoons. If I have to finish a few things at home? I guess I will. And hopefully everything will go a little quicker if my errands are done and I've been to the gym, and who knows?  I may use my planning time a bit more efficiently if I know it's limited.

And although I have come to love the way the sun shines in my window in late afternoon, and the quiet of the building when almost everyone else has left for the day,  whatever happens, I have to believe it's going to be better than sitting at my desk for hours after my contract day is over.

Jane Who?

We were well acquainted with the dangers of the Christmas tree lot, and so we guarded against getting a tree that seemed the right size but would end up being enormous for the space we have. And it was good that our sights were on the smaller side, given the astronomical tree prices this year, for which we were also prepared. 

But after a busy weekend of other tree shoppers, the nursery was nearly sold out of medium trees this afternoon when we got there. We contemplated trying another place, but this establishment had given every single tree on the lot a unique name, which seemed at first puzzling, and then corny, and then downright charming as we considered our options: here was Merry, there Lucius, over there Marshall. 

And when we tipped Jane up to take a look at her, she seemed nicely shaped, if compact for her class, and we figured with a couple inches off the bottom, she could be the tree for us. So, we tapped one of Santa's helpers (That's a job title there-- the trees have names, but the workers are anonymous as elves.), and he carried Jane off to get a fresh cut and wrapped up to go, while we went to pay an exorbitant amount for her. 

She did seem a little light when we got her off the roof rack once at home, but we welcomed the ease with which we got her up the stoop, into the house, and on the stand. However, when we took a step back to admire our 2022 tree, Jane seemed much smaller than any tree we've ever had. Confused, we checked her name tag and the number on her pink ribbon. Both matched up with what we had seen at the lot; there was no mistaken identity here. 

"We'll make it work," I shrugged, and Heidi agreed, but we're still not sure how that happened.

Old Souls

Sometimes I think I'm in danger of turning my homeroom vibe into a visit to your grandma type of thing. Not only do we spend a lot of time watching the news and playing Bananagrams and other word games, but recently I mentioned that I was thinking of bringing in some jigsaw puzzles. 

Fortunately? The kids seem to dig it. Last year one of them even taught us how to knit!