Swift Effect

We watched a recording of the opening monologue from last night's episode of SNL this morning. Host Dakota Johnson was recalling the time she attended the 40th anniversary of the show as an audience member and a photo of her then flashed on the screen. The year was 2015 and right behind her was Donald Trump. "Who would have thought the future most powerful person in America would be there?" she asked as the camera panned to Taylor Swift, who was seated in front of her.

That must have been on my mind this afternoon when we ran into one of our neighbors. He was out for a run and we were walking home from running a few errands. "Sorry about the Bills," I told him since I hadn't seen him since last weekend. "Who are you rooting for today?"

"Oh definitely Baltimore and the Lions," he said. "If they both win, I'll be happy."

We wished him good luck and he jogged on his way.

"I don't know," I told Heidi as we continued home. "I have a feeling Kansas City is going to the Superbowl, and it's because of Taylor Swift."

"What does she have to do with them winning?" Heidi said.

"This just seems to be her time," I answered. "She's got a lot of good mojo, and it's rubbing off on the Chiefs."

Sorry, Ravens.

Doldrums

We are in a wide Sargasso Sea of TV watching. As much as there is on television, it's all like too much seaweed clogging up the airwaves.

It's ironic, really. There are hundreds of channels these days, and there are also many lists and recommendations, literally at my fingertips. This morning I sent Heidi links to "The Fifty Best Shows on Netflix Right Now" from the NY Times and IMDB's 2024 TV Guide, but so far? We're drifting aimlessly from show to show, discontent lapping the sides of our evenings in front of the TV.

I've even used AI, asking ChatGPT what shows I should watch based on the shows I have liked in the past. I guess the algorithm is working because it mentioned many shows I've already seen. Unfortunately, though, ChatGPT only knows what it knows through 2022. Anything newer than that doesn't exist for it, so there's not a lot of forward momentum there.

Oh, we'll keep rowing. I'm sure a fresh breeze will pick up soon, maybe when we least expect it, and we will sail into seemingly endless entertaining evenings in front of the TV again.

Done and Done

I called my 86-year-old aunt this afternoon to coordinate our next visit. "I am sitting out on my deck reading and listening to all the birds chirp!" she reported. "Can you believe it's January?"

"Considering there were six inches of snow on the ground when we talked last Friday?" I replied. "It's crazy."

"Well I am truly enjoying this!" she told me.

"Why go to Florida when Florida will come to you?" I joked.

"Like Mohammed and the mountain," she agreed. "Just call me Mo!"

We laughed and then she continued, "I'm just your old Aunt Harriett, but take some advice from me. When you get out of school today? Go outside! Enjoy the day!"

I agreed that I would, because what else would you do you do with a 70-degree Friday in January? Besides open all the windows and fire up the grill, of course.

Only So Much Spirit

Secret Spirit Week the subject line read, and the email contained details about staff dress each day. But don't tell the students! the message ended. 

The idea was a novel one to me, something that we have never done in the many years I've been teaching at this school, and all but one of the themes were easy for me to get behind: Monday dress in school spirit wear, Tuesday wear all black, Wednesday wear a hoodie, Thursday wear plaid flannel, Friday dress for the prom.

It was fun to see so many of my colleagues dressed alike all week, too, although as Heidi predicted, none of the kids even noticed. Today at the basketball game, as we stood on the sidelines in our plaid flannel shirts, one of the other English teachers stopped to chat on her way out. "You know what I noticed?" she said.

I raised my eyebrows expectantly.

"We are all dressed like you!"

"And we have been all week!" I agreed. 

"That ends tomorrow though," I told her.

"No prom for you?" she laughed. "Well, I guess I expected so."

Fair Rap

Students were working quietly when I decided to try my hand at composing a Titanic rap using the required vocabulary (accommodations, ambitious, evacuate, luxurious, plague, sound, tragedy) and the knowledge of the ship we had gained over the last few sessions. I had already offered kids the opportunity to put on a beat and share their work, if they wanted to, and it seemed like having a model might be helpful.

I was pretty pleased with what I composed, so I decided to risk sounding like an old white lady posing and step up to the figurative mic. (Click here for a version of what my classes heard.) 

And I was gratified at how much the kids appreciated my effort. But what was most cool was how many students went right to work, eager to share their own compositions. 

Two guys even made an album cover for their single. "Don't worry," they told me. "We'll sign you to our label!"

Dig if You Will

"What can I do for candy?" asked a visiting seventh grader after school today. "Can I show you something amazing?"

He cupped his hands together and whistled a low tone. 

"That's pretty good," I agreed. "What kind of bird calls it supposed to be?"

He shrugged. "Owl? Dove, maybe."

"Let's see how close you are," I suggested, pulling out my phone to open my bird ID app. I tapped record and he warbled away. No bird identified, the app informed us.

He tried again, varying his pitch. 

"Maybe you should listen to some calls and try to imitate them," I suggested.

For the next five minutes, he cooed and quacked and cheeped and peeped his heart out, but he could not fool the microphone. 

"Here you go," I laughed, handing him a Jolly Rancher. 

"But I didn't match it," he sighed.

"You didn't have to," I told him. "Your attempt was entertaining enough."

Titans of Rhyme

"What rhymes with luxurious?" a student asked me today. She was working on an assignment about the Titanic where students were asked to write a rap using some key vocabulary words. 

"Curious? Furious? Penurious?" I suggested. "That last word means 'cheap,' by the way," I explained.

"The ship was luxurious, but with the lifeboats they were penurious," she tried.

"That's pretty good!" I laughed.

"I can't find anything for plague, though" she sighed.

"The vocabulary word doesn't have to be at the end of the line," I told her. "You could say something like, 'No problems plagued the amazing ship..." I paused for a moment to think. 

"Until the hole the iceberg ripped!" she finished, nodding. "What about ambitious?" she prompted.

"The plans for the ship were ambitious," I began, "but now she sleeps with the fishes."

She gasped and the kids around her who had been listening to our conversation, did, too.

"I'm going to use that!" said one.

"No! I am!" said another.

"Nobody can," I shrugged. "It's my line. Come up with your own."

A little while later the bell rang, and as she was packing up to go a student caught my eye. "You should stick with that rapping," she advised me. "You never know what might come of it."