Bean There, Done That

When I was in fourth grade my mom helped me with a science fair experiment. We wadded up paper towels, dampened them, and then stuffed them in an empty peanut butter jar. Next, we carefully tucked dried kidney beans into the folds and then set the jar on a windowsill. What followed was miraculous to my nine-year-old brain: the beans sprouted, sending roots toward the bottom of the jar and emerald green shoots toward the top. I hadn't realized that beans were seeds, and seeing them grow was an awakening for me.

I hadn't thought about that experience in decades until last weekend. I was feeling bummed that I hadn't planted any shell beans. My students and I had several little plants growing on the window sill in our classroom, but I wasn't sold on just dropping a bean in a dixie cup full of soil. It occurred to me that there was a way to give them a head start, and so I grabbed a mason jar and some paper towels. Next, I pulled the yellow-eyed beans I ordered from Maine from the pantry, and just like my mom and I had done all those years ago, I placed my beans in the damp folds of the paper towel.

I brought the jar to school and placed it in the sun next to the little plants. By Friday? The beans had swelled and opened, tiny roots clinging to the paper towel. I carefully placed each bean in a cup of soil, watered them, and went home for the long weekend hoping for the best.

Oh my! The six-inch plants waiting for me this morning surpassed my wildest dreams! They were actually ready to be transplanted into the garden this afternoon. Where two weeks ago I was beanless, today I have the promise of several quarts to shell, if the garden gods will it so. 

As It Flies

We were playing pickleball yesterday with friends when a crow swooped down and landed on the baby stroller. Thankfully, their 15-month-old was occupied with Heidi and the dogs, because the bird pecked around in the diaper bag and then flew off with a protein bar that had been in the pocket. Stunned, we watched the crow as it landed first on a nearby chimney, and then next in the shade of a tree off to the far corner of the court.

"I can get it!" promised another friend, and he took off running toward the crow. 

Overconfident, perhaps, or possibly preoccupied with getting its prize out of the wrapper, the big black bird had no defense, and AJ nabbed the stolen snack back just as quickly as the crow had grabbed it a few moments ago. 

The game was, of course, at a standstill as we laughed about the turn events. "Who wants it?" called AJ, jogging back to the court.

The answer was no one-- everybody was just a little skeeved about eating what we had to start calling "the crowtein bar".

Weren't We All

My dearest friend from high school is in Lugano, Switzerland, where we went to school, right this minute. How miraculous it seems to see the pictures she is texting me! 

Here is the hotel by the Funicolare, there the department store where we spent our pocket money on weekends, here the piazza we called Federale Square, and there the arcade of the Salumeria, still festooned with huge, hanging salamis. 

Modern technology allows me to see, almost in real-time, the place we lived and graduated from, a few days shy of 44 years ago. 

Downtown looks so different to me, even though the buildings are old, my friend texted. Basically, I didn't observe or appreciate the amazing surroundings here as a youth.

Don't be too hard on yourself, I responded. You were a great kid!

Still No

There is a particular fence post on a certain little walking route through our neighborhood that our first dog, Isabel, could not pass by without pausing to sniff. Once she had filled her nose, she always broke into a happy little trot along the fence line. For years, this was part of our morning routine. 

I clearly remember the first time I walked Lucy past the same spot: I was dismayed when she never even hesitated, just kept on her way as if there was no reason to pause. I guess I took it as a clear message to vary the route because it's rare that we find ourselves there. 

Today was an exception, though. I took Lucy for a little afternoon jaunt in the glorious weather, and as we meandered through the neighborhood, that fence post was on the way home. Even after seven years, I slowed my step in anticipation of a sniff and a trot, but of course, I was with a different dog, and she passed right on by.

As it Should Be

Maybe it's the fair weather, or perhaps it's the bond I am feeling with my students, but my realization this morning that there are only two more Fridays left in the school year was bittersweet. And as much as I am looking forward to a three-day weekend, this traditional start to summer seems almost too early. Could it be I'm not ready?

As I write, I am sitting in the sun shining through my classroom windows, watching the colleagues that can duck out a little early heading to their cars, and admiring the seedlings that the kids and I have planted over the last few weeks. The little plants are taking root and growing tall, and they are almost ready to be moved out to where they can spend the summer growing on their own. 

A Day in the Life

In the ever-evolving battle to drain some of the energy from my nutty 5th period class, I have alternately allowed puppets, soccer balls, wobbly stools, standing, and all manner of movement breaks. And yet, they persist in their good-natured rowdiness. 

When it is productive? I'm okay with the barely managed chaos, but when it is not, I move about the room corraling wayward writers and doing my best to refocus them. 

Today, a few kids noticed the seedlings on the windowsill that my homeroom had planted. "Can I plant something?" one asked. 

"Sure, as soon as you finish the lead paragraph for your profile," I told him, and he set to work immediately. Not too much later he was back and filling a small paper cup with soil and cilantro seeds. After watering it thoroughly and placing it on the window sill, he returned to the table where I was working with another student.

"What can I do now?" he wanted to know.

"Write your alphabiography," I pointed to the agenda on the screen. "How about 'S is for Seed'?"

His eyes lit up and he literally hopped up and down. "Yes!" he agreed and ran off to write his 100 words. 

I turned my attention to another kid who held up the hand exerciser that was part of the commercial production unit. "Can I use this?" he asked.

"As soon as you have three more sentences," I said, pointing at his lead.

"I'll do it right away!" he replied.

Fortunately, my room is full of little things my students often find fascinating, which another student in the class remarked on a little while later. "I'm going to walk around this room and find the most amazing thing in it!" he declared.

Since he was mostly finished with his work, I shrugged my permission. "That's a matter of opinion, though," I pointed out as he roamed the room.

He turned and nodded, then came back over and patted my shoulder. "I found it!" he called out to the class. "The most amazing thing in here is Ms. S!" He lowered his voice. "I hope I didn't offend you by calling you a 'thing'," he said.

"Not at all," I told him. "And thank you! I think you guys are amazing, too."

Top Dog

We were standing at Lucy's dogsitter's chatting when I noticed that her puppy, Teddy, was on the back of the couch staring intently out the front window. His tail was thumping, and he kept looking from the window to Marley, one of the other five dogs present, who was lying on the floor. 

At last, because Teddy so obviously saw something that he wanted badly to communicate, I stepped over to the window and crouched to his eye level so that I could see it too. There was Marley's person, walking from her car to the gate! 

At seven months? Teddy could recognize vehicles and people, and connect them to his canine buddies. 

How long will it be until he rules the house?