Thank You Kids!

As a way to get my students to think about the short story selections they have been reading to prepare for their argument essay, the warm-up question today was to name their favorite so far. It is not false humility for me to report that I was shocked at how many students chose the story that I had written. 

For the second year in a row, I included the short memoir as an option, and I also read it out loud to each of my classes. But that was last week, and coming back today after two days out for Heidi's eye surgery, I had almost forgotten that it was one of the choices. The young writers in my class had not forgotten though, and when the final tally was complete, my story had garnered more votes than the other 9 combined! 

The competition wasn't shoddy either; it included the likes of Shannon Hale, Eve Bunting, Jack Gantos, Jacqueline Woodson, and even Langston Hughes. I spent the day shaking my head and blushing a little-- I know I have the advantage of proximity and familiarity, but it never hurts to get a little validation and appreciation.

HeidiVision

"Can you see the lines in the clouds?" Heidi asked me on the way to her follow-up appointment for her eye surgery. And when I nodded she continued, "The sky used to just look gray to me, but now I see each individual cloud!"

I was elated by her gratitude at her newly restored vision. Her cataracts had been getting progressively worse over the last decade, but neither of us really appreciated how bad they had become. 

At the doctor's office they did a routine vision check, which she passed handily. "Can you read the number at the bottom of the screen?" the PA asked. 

"20/20?" Heidi replied. 

"That's right!" he told her. "Wanna try the next one?"

And she got many of them right! So for the rest of the day, in addition to her amazement at the clarity of all she can see, she's been telling everyone, "And my vision is better than 20-20!"

Private Showing

Heidi was feeling restless after her eye surgery, so this afternoon we tried to find an activity within her restrictions and hit upon a good, old-fashioned movie at the movie theater. I can count the movies we have been to since the pandemic struck on one hand, but this was the first we ventured to unmasked. Oh, we had masks with us and we weren't overly concerned. As it turned out, we needn't have been: today we had the theater to ourselves as we finally caught Wakanda Forever.

It was a pretty engrossing 2 hours and 45 minutes, so many strong women, so few men, and it was a movie that was better served by seeing it on a big screen with no distractions. Are we back to the movies, then? That remains to be seen, but I'll take an empty theater any day.

Shrooms

"Paul Stamets?" Heidi said as the name of the mycologist flashed across the screen. "That's the Star Trek Discovery character!"

We were watching the 2019 movie Fantastic Fungi, a documentary about fungi, communication, awareness of nature, and the mycelial network. The film came highly recommended by my sister-in-law, and having received a mushroom growing kit for Christmas, I was all in.

"I noticed that, too," I replied. "Do you think it's a coincidence?"

"No!" she answered. "Star Trek Stamets is all about the spore drive and traveling the mycelial network, too."

I realized how right she was. "It's all connected," they were saying on the movie. Everything is connected." 

At that trippy moment, it sure seemed like it.

Left Over

We had chicken and white gravy, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and green beans for dinner last night. It would have been my dad's 88th birthday, and it was his favorite, so we ate it in honor of him. 

The recipe calls for a whole chicken, so although the two of us ate our fill, there were plenty of leftovers. Usually, I love eating the extras from any meal, especially such a comforting one, for lunch, and I'm happy to have the same thing for several days. But for some reason today I just didn't want the potatoes, even though Heidi thought I was nuts: "Those are the best part!" she reminded me.

Instead, I cooked some bucatini and tossed it some chicken and gravy, a healthy splash of pasta water, some blanched greens, a little shaved romano, and a spoonful of chili crunch. My lunch had the soul of the original dish, but it was completely different. I loved it! And I kind of believed my dad would have like it, too, if only we could have gotten him to try it.

Touché

The warm up activity in class today was to frame a quick claim about a character in a short story we had read. "Is Squeaky likeable?" I asked, and students were expected to post a debatable claim with three character traits to support it. There is a kid in the class who has lately been refusing to participate in the warm up. His recalcitrance poses a problem: the activity is formative and therefore not graded, but it is a requirement of the class, designed to either review, introduce, or extend important concepts, as well as to build community and engagement. 

Can it be a pain sometimes? No doubt. I'm sure there are mornings when several kids would rather sit there than participate, but in my estimation that's not what's best for them. Many students can be encouraged with rewards or consequences unrelated to grades, but this particular child doesn't fall into that category. And so I have developed an uneasy truce with him; if the question is more fun than academic and he can make a case about his ignorance of the topic, then I'll let it go. 

But today? That was not the case. We were taking a test as our next activity, and I insisted he finish this one before he start the test. Still he resisted, contending that he needed to re-read the story, and getting up several times to blow his nose. All around him, other students were sharing their ideas, several of whom put forth the claim that Squeaky was likeable because she cared about her brother. 

I pushed back a little. "Caring for your brother may be admirable, but does it necessarily make her likeable?" I asked. "I care about my brother. Do you like me?"

The unwilling student happened to pass by my desk for a tissue at that moment. "Hmm," he said to himself, but loudly enough that I could hear. "Definitely debatable."

At least he was paying attention.

OLW '23

 Here's what I wrote last year at this time:

Another year, another One Little Word assignment-- regular readers might remember my new year tradition of asking my students to share one word that represents something they want more of in their lives in the coming year. This time, instead of asking the young writers to compose a paragraph about their choice, they simply posted the single word, and then each read it to the class and explained why they had chosen it. Seeing the words stand alone was powerful, but hearing the student's voices as they elucidated their ideas was quite poignant. I think I'll do it again this way next year.

Unfortunately, I did not check back with myself, and we didn't repeat the single word presentation. Perhaps I'll create a reminder for January of 2024.

And here's what I did do a bit differently:

I like this visual addition! I hope I can remember to do it again.