Better than Meh

 I finally did it.

After decades of trying to figure out a way to make Back to School Night more fun and interactive for parents (and myself!), it occurred to me the other day that I could structure my presentation using the online quiz game I favor for my students. 

So yesterday afternoon I went through the slide presentation I would otherwise have used and turned every topic into a true-false or multiple-choice question. Then I created a QR code for the game sign-in and taped a copy to each table. As parents entered, I gave them the option to scan the code and play along. Once the game began, I paused after every question to clarify or add a little information, just as I do when kids play,

The format worked great! For example, the first question was True or false, this is Ms. S's first year at our school. After revealing the answer, I was able to give a little background on myself and, in my co-taught classes, allow my colleagues to do the same. 

Ten minutes later, we applauded the winners. I had given each parent a card to write questions on, and they all came back blank. The final question of the game had been a poll: How has BSN been so far? The options were Great! Good! Meh. and Needs improvement. Everyone was gracious enough to pick Great!

Best of all? Several kids told me today how much their parents enjoyed the class. And I didn't even give them Jolly Ranchers!

Feeling Senior

The phone was ringing in my classroom when I arrived yesterday morning. It was our facility director calling with some sad news: a young man we both knew, I as a former student and he as an employee of the community center attached to our school, had unexpectedly passed away. The director was at kind of a loss as to who to inform; the guy had been a student in my class 30 years ago, my first year of teaching, and we talked about who is still around who might remember him as a middle schooler.

Turns out, nobody but me. I have been in the building the second longest, one year behind my friend and colleague Laura, and one year ahead of Heidi, but neither of them knew him. I considered reaching out to the few of his former classmates I'm still in touch with, but decided against contacting them with sad news after it's been a while since I last reached out. 

Later in the day, a younger colleague stopped me to recount how her students had asked her if she was here, teaching, on September 11, 2001. "I was in 7th grade!" she informed them, and her comments were similar to those of another colleague earlier in the day who had been in 5th grade at the time.

"You were here, though, right?" she asked me, and I told her I was. She teaches social studies, and I could tell it was the historian in her who listened to my account of that day 22 years ago. To me, it was a memory of a time that seems both distant and not that long ago, but to her I was a primary source and witness to history.

Exceeding Expectations

Every so often, perhaps once a year or so, I get a tickle in my throat that won't be denied. When it happens? I absolutely have to cough, and often tears stream down my face, and I am rendered speechless for up to a minute. And when I can actually talk again, my voice is strangled and hoarse. It can definitely be alarming to witness.

For some reason, this only occurs when I am teaching, as it did today, and how the students react can be a litmus test. This time, we were in the middle of our opening routine, where students are posting and talking and guessing. I use the time to check in with each kid and to let them know that I see them, and we can have fun learning together. But today I had to use that time to tend to a coughing fit that neither water nor drops would abate. 

To their credit, the class waited quietly, allowing me to pull myself together, with a few expressions of concern, both genuine: Are you okay? and not: Are you dying?

Before the incident, I had set up a mostly student-led activity, and I bade them to continue, which they did. And here is where they really shined-- when left in charge of their own learning by a [seemingly] incapacitated teacher, they took the reins and carried on admirably.

And on the sixth class of the school year? I could not have asked for more.

Scratching her Head

Our cats get a monthly box of treats and toys in the mail. Sometimes we question whether we should continue the subscription, but they really seem to appreciate it, Tibby in particular: she's never met a cat toy, cat treat, cat structure, cat anything she didn't fully embrace. Heidi, too, enjoys opening the box each month. She likes discovering the theme and seeing what clever little items the curators have pulled together.

This month the motif was "Back to School" which was kind of bittersweet for us. Even so, Heidi examined each item with appreciation, a couple of catnip crayons and a little stuffed composition book. One thing had her stumped for a minute though. It was a rectangular purple crinkle mat printed in segments with colorful images of boiled eggs, baby carrots, mushrooms, and a salmon steak. "What do you think this is?" she asked.

I recognized it immediately. "A cafeteria tray," I laughed. "But I've never seen a school lunch that looked like that!"

Natural Solution

We had a few fruit flies around the kitchen, which wasn't surprising given the bounty of our garden lately. When I was at the garden center last week getting the supplies for my cactus pups, I noticed a cute little Venus flytrap on display. It was a bit expensive for a wee little thing in a tiny plastic pot full of sphagnum, but I've long wanted to own one, and the fruit fly situation gave me just the excuse I needed.

In just a day or two, the minor infestation was over, so when I had several lazy houseflies pestering me in my classroom last week? 

I was tempted to go in search of a bigger plant to take care of the problem. I've seen Little Shop of Horrors, though, and perhaps turning to carnivorous plants to address pests might be a bit of a slippery slope.

Still the One

Heidi and I are invited to the wedding of a close friend and neighbor at the end of October. We're not really at an age where we are invited to many weddings, and it's an evening event, so wardrobe has been a bit of a consideration. We ordered some dresses from Nordstrom to try, and although I liked mine, Heidi didn't like hers or mine, so I returned hers and kept mine for now. 

It seemed the more she looked, the more frustrated she became. "Get ready," she told me, "if I don't find something soon, I'm going to fly to Buffalo and go shopping with my mother."

I did not consider that a threat. "Maybe you should," I shrugged. "But what are you looking for?" We started talking about dresses from the past to try to figure out the answer to the question, and reliving some fun events as we did. When we got home, Heidi slid open the far side of the closet, pulled out a navy blue dress, and put it on. It was perfect! It fit well and looked great. Problem solved.

And most remarkable of all? It was 30 years old. She had bought it, with her mom, to wear to, what else? A wedding.

There Will Be Fall

It's hot. 

Our temperature has been in the 90s every day for nearly a week, making it the hottest five days in September on record. When I go out at night, I'm reminded of the years we lived in Saudi Arabia: a wall of warm darkness wraps around me. 

And yet. 

There is a quality to the light, some unrelenting element missing from the direct sunshine, maybe even a hint of concession in the heat that lets me know it cannot hold.

It is September, after all.