Goods and Services

 From October to March on any given weekend day you might see pickup trucks laden with firewood idling in the parking lot of our Northern Virginia condo complex. 

Built in the mid-80s, our clapboard townhouse-style units are classic products of their time. Back then, natural gas prices were at an all-time high, so our community is completely electric. In addition? Each model has a fireplace. Consequently, where other homes have converted their hearths to gas over the last 40 years, ours have remained wood burning.

I am not complaining. Back in 1999 when I was shopping for a home my one must-have was a fireplace, and I have enjoyed mine considerably over the years since. In the coldest months we have a fire every night, but unlike those in single family homes out in the country, we don't have a ready supply of firewood. Nor do we have storage for more than a small rack on our front stoop, so our choices. are to buy pre-packaged bundles at the garden or grocery store, or purchase in small bulk from the people who drive those pickups.

It used to be a first-come arrangement. If our rack was running low, then we would do business with whoever rang our bell. Prices and quality were always negotiable, but the business card was not. "Y'all call me when you need more," they always said, pressing the rectangle of cardstock into our hands. But why call when somebody else would just knock when we needed it?

And that was how it went until about five years ago. One day, a painfully thin woman in a ragged jacket rang the bell, and Heidi answered. At first, it was business as usual, but as she and her cousin, Gay, returned again and again, we forged a bit of a bond with them. And although we have never actually called for more wood, we haven't purchased from anybody else either.

Last weekend when we were out of town, we returned to find our empty wood rack slightly replenished with some dry oak and cedar kindling. Tucked inside the door was a card from G&L Trees and Landscaping. Here's a little bit of wood. I will be back Saturday if you want more. Didn't want you to run out. Lisa, it read.

And when that cold snap came at the end of the week? We sure appreciated the gesture.

It's How You Say It

It was the second day of the Rock, Paper, Scissors tourney (block schedule, don't you know) and the B Day kids were equally enthusiastic as their A Day fellows. The excitement rose as we made it to the quarter finals with a few wild card entries coming from behind.

"This is actually fun for a change," a student caught my eye  to comment. I raised my eyebrows, but he missed the cue and continued. "Can we do things like this more often?"

"Since you ask like that?" I answered. 

He smiled expectantly.

"No," I finished.

"It was worth a try," he laughed.

"I'm glad you're having fun, though," I told him, and we both turned back to the action.

Welcome Back

A former colleague who retired a couple of years ago was in today subbing for the teacher across the hall. "Hi, Liz!" I hailed her as I unlocked my door.

She was standing in her classroom door with the red emergency folder in her hand. "Don't forget there's a tornado drill this morning!" she said cheerfully.

"Oh right!" I answered, appreciative for the reminder.

"Where do I go for that?" asked another team member who overheard our conversation. Because our classrooms are on the second floor, we have to lead our kids to shelter in another room on the ground level. The teacher who asked was new to her classroom this year.

“I’m not sure,” I frowned.

"Dressing room hallway," said Liz, consulting the red folder. "Do you know where that is?"

"Where do I go?" asked Heidi, who was walking down the hall toward her room. "I just want to double check."

"Green Commons," Liz told her, and then she laughed. "Hey wait a minute! Who's the sub here?"

Friendly Conflict

As the sixth grade writers prepare to write and illustrate children's books, today we took a deep dive into conflict. In anticipation of reading The Legend of Rock, Paper, Scissors, by Drew Daywalt, as a mentor text, the warm up question was What do you usually throw in Rock, Paper, Scissors?

"I can't answer that!" one student insisted. "Everyone will know my strategy!"

"Only if you answer honestly," the kid next to him pointed out. "That's a strategy!"

At the end of the day, everyone answered and rock was by far the most popular, followed by scissors, and paper. "I never throw paper!" scoffed a boy in my first period class. "It's useless!"

He went on to win the RPS tournament we had as a brain break. I watched him carefully as he made his way through the brackets to victory. "You weren't kidding," I marveled as we crowned him champion and awarded him with a Jolly Rancher. "You never put out paper once!"

"It's useless," he shrugged.

Up and Down Day

We had an early release anchor day today which resulted in me seeing all five of my sixth grade classes for 23 minutes each. We wrote our slices of life, caught up on a missing assignment or two, and did the chicken dance on the way out the door. All in all? It was a successful teaching day, ending at 10:15 a.m., when the kids headed off to a very early lunch, and my planning, meeting, and professional learning time began.

I wish I could say the second part of my day was as gratifying as the first, but that is a story for another time.

Long Distance Dedication

I was working at my desk when the classroom phone rang during my planning time this afternoon. That line is usually reserved to call kids to the office to pick up forgotten-at-home items or to speak to an administrator or go take their medication in the clinic. Rarely is it for me, although I remember the days when we had no phones in our classrooms. 

Then, messages were left in our mailboxes when we received a call, and we had to go to the office if we wanted to make a call, so it was an exciting day when they pulled phone wires through the ceiling and added wire moulding and jacks to our walls. Even so, long-distance calls were forbidden on the dial-nine-for-an-outside-line system. 

Coincidentally, we got wired internet at the same time, and boy! Did we feel connected. Of course, most of those issues became moot with the advent of cell phones and wifi. But we've kept the old landlines in our classrooms, anyway, and since kids are not allowed to use their personal phones in school, we have to teach them how to pick up the receiver, listen for a dial tone, and push actual buttons to make a call.

Today, though, when the phone rang, it was for me. A secretary in the office asked if she could connect a call from my doctor. "Sure," I told her, but I was puzzled. I hadn't contacted my doctor recently, nor did I have any upcoming appointments. Plus? My doctor has my cell number.

"Hang up, and I'll put the call through," she promised, and I skeptically did so; that particular feature rarely works on these phones, and sure enough, when I picked up on the second ring, all I heard was dead air. 

I hung up again, and the phone rang again. A voice on the other end of the line said, "Tracey? It's me, Amy!"

It was a friend from high school whom I haven't spoken to in at least 15 years, or as long as I've had my cell phone, because she didn't have that number. Calling from Arizona, she had tracked me down at work, and yes, she is a doctor, just not my doctor.

"I just said that so they would put me through," she laughed. "I'm so glad I got you."

The Sweet Smell of Success

I keep a bag of Jolly Ranchers in the bottom drawer of my desk as an extra incentive for the sixth graders as we go about the business of writing and reading. Often kids can earn one of the fruit-flavored hard candies for participating in a brain break or other little challenge that accompanies the lesson. 

Usually I let the winners pick their flavor, and in general that means blue raspberry is always in short supply, followed by watermelon and green apple. Cherry, although my personal favorite, and grape are the last to go, because as kids have explained to me, they taste like medicine. I guess that's probably true; children's remedies have come a ways since my mom dosed us with orangey baby aspirin and Robitussin that burned the back of our throats going down. 

Even so, with enough incentive, most kids will take any flavor. For example, I have been known to offer two-for-one grapes when we get to the bottom of the bag, and those fly out of the room. Recently, they have had the option to guess which flavor is in my hand when I pull it out of the bag. If they are right? They will get another Jolly Rancher of their choice, but if they are wrong, then they have to take whatever it is. Most kids are happy to take a chance, and this routine is both entertaining and good for keeping the supply even for all the flavors.

One of my classes is full of silly characters, and they have become convinced, convinced! That they can smell the flavor in my hand, if only I'll allow their noses close enough. It makes me laugh when they ask, but I don't really think they are any more correct than the 1 in 5 chance they have without smelling. 

This weekend I decided to test the theory personally, and I brought a small bag of Jolly Ranchers to our family gathering at the beach. Six of the eight of us tried a blind sniff-test with unimpressive results. "Let me smell each one by itself," I suggested, "maybe that will educate my nose."

It did not, but I can't say it's impossible. I'm sure there are folks out there with sharper schnozzolas than mine.