Lose Some, Win Some

When we woke up this morning (minus our stolen hour), the torrential rain of yesterday had given way to cold, blustery sunshine, so we took a ride down to the Eastern Neck National Wildlife Refuge, known for its resident bald eagles. 

We were disappointed in our efforts to see eagles or any wildlife, with the exception of vultures, though. It seemed like the other animals were smarter than we were, and they sought shelter from the gusty winds. So, after a windblown hour or so, we headed home.

Not to worry, though. This afternoon, we watched four eagles ride the turbulence, diving into the creek and flapping away with small fish, all from the comfort of our living room. 

I still want that hour back, though!

Here's Lookin at You, Oscar

For many years, we used to gather with my brother's family to watch the Oscars in one of our houses or another. We would have a delicious potluck meal, everyone contributing something amazing to share; we would fill out our predicted ballots and throw a few bucks into a pool, and since it was always so late on Sunday night when it ended, we'd take the next day off. 

One year it occurred to us that since we were taking off, we might as well take off for somewhere fun, and a tradition was born. In the decade-plus since that realization, we have spent long weekends in many amazing waterfront homes in places like Hague, VA, Scotland, MD, Dewey Beach, DE, and this year, Rock Hall, a tiny Eastern Shore port on the Chesapeake Bay.

In our part of the world, the weather in March is unpredictable, and so those weekends have been a mixed bag of days when we could hunt barefoot for sharks' teeth and fossils to times when we needed our warmest gear as protection against a howling Nor'easter. Through it all, we've explored tiny towns, nature preserves, parks, and history museums, enjoyed local restaurants, patronized artists and artisans in their galleries, fishermen on the wharf, farmers' markets, and country stores. 

In these homes away from home, we've cooked and laughed and played games. We've seen over 200 awards handed out and heard countless speeches. We witnessed Faye Dunaway accidentally announce LaLa Land as best picture and Will Smith slap Chris Rock. One year, my nephews each made their own short film over the weekend, which they premiered before the ceremony began. (Of course, those were the real best pictures that night.)

Other family members have traveled from Minnesota, Florida, and Colorado to be part of the fun, and one nephew has joined virtually from Western Massachusetts and another from Iceland. 

And here we are again. Cue the orchestra, and... Action!

Off the Market

Like many teachers these days, I have a basket of fidgets on my desk. Although it is ever-evolving, lately, my collection includes an assortment of stress balls, yo-yos, poppers, puzzle cubes, hand grip exercisers, and a boxing ball headband. There is also a Wiz-z-zer.

For those who are unfamiliar, Wiz-z-zers are gyroscopic spinning tops that were popular in the 1970s. Unlike their predecessors, Wiz-z-zers did not use a string to start them spinning. Instead, you swept them at an angle across a plain surface (like the bare floor), revving them up, and then dropped them lightly to spin really fast for what seems like a very long time. 

When we were kids, Wiz-z-zers were a staple stocking stuffer for my brother and sister and me, and we each had several. When we got bored of spinning them, we battled them, and when we tired of that, we held them, buzzing, up to our cheeks, pretending they were electric razors.

Anyhow, it must have been over ten years ago that I saw one for sale in a clearance bin somewhere, and of course, I bought it. I realized then that I hadn't seen one for decades, and a little research revealed that they had been discontinued in the 80s, revived in the mid-oughts, and then discontinued again. My Wiz-z-zer languished in a box of toys in the attic until a recent purge when rather than give it away, I brought it to school.

Oh my! If I had known how popular it would be, I definitely would have dug that spinning top out sooner. Undoubtedly, its novelty contributes to its allure; no one who plays with it now has ever seen its like. In fact, several kids have offered to buy it from me.

"It's not for sale," I rejected the latest request yesterday.

"Not for any price?" replied the interested party.

"Nope," I confirmed.

"You're telling me that if I gave you a million dollars here and now for this thing," he held up the toy, "you wouldn't take it?"

"Maybe a million dollars," I shrugged, "but not a penny less." I laughed.

"How about a million dollars in pennies?" he countered. "By the time you finished counting them, would you even know if you were missing one?"

Trial and Error

A colleague came into my room with a frustrated look on her face. "Do you have a minute to help me?" 

"What's the problem?" I asked.

She had copied a Word document with a data table, and she was having trouble removing the information so that she could reuse the table. "Can't you just highlight it and hit Delete?" I suggested.

"You would think," she sighed.

I went to her laptop and tried it myself, but she seemed to be right. "Hmmm," I said as I thought about the possible causes of the issue. I like to think of myself as pretty tech-savvy, but my know-how is all experiential: I figure it out as I go, building on whatever skills I've developed along the way. This particular problem-solving was slightly complicated by the fact that she uses a PC and I am team Apple, all the way. Even so, solutions to those kinds of things are usually pretty intuitive. 

Of course, my next move was to search it up, and I found loads of fixes, none of which made any sense. They all involved Function this or Shift Left that. Finally, I approached her keyboard myself to examine the situation, and scanning the top row of function keys, I noticed a tiny one labeled "Delete" right next to F12 and above Backspace. I tapped it and all the onerous old data disappeared!

As it turns out? Delete and Backspace are not the same thing. (Except on an Apple keyboard!)

Twenty Questions

"I met someone who knows you," one of my colleagues told me today.

"Who was it?" I asked.

"You like games," he shrugged, "let's see if you can figure it out."

I laughed because I do like games. "Let's go!"

"She taught math here about 12 years ago," he started.

"That's it?" I said. "That's the only clue I get?"

"She knows you, and she used to teach with the assistant principal who moved to the other middle school. They were on the same team."

"Does she know me?" asked another veteran teacher who happened to be listening.

"She didn't mention you," he reported. "Or you either," he bobbed his chin at another longtimer.

"Hmmm," I thought for a minute. "Was it--?" I mentioned a name, but my colleague's face went blank, and he furrowed his brow. 

"I don't actually remember her name," he confessed. "That's why I wanted you to guess."

"Okay, then," I shook my head, preparing to approach the third rail of interpersonal relationships in the workplace. "What did she look like?"

First Shift

I took my car in for some minor repairs and a safety inspection, and rather than shuttle back and forth, I decided to wait in the dealership lounge. The wifi was good, and I was able to get quite a bit of planning and some grading done in the couple of hours I was there. When at last the service advisor came to fetch me, I was feeling pretty good about my productivity; revising a rubric seemed a much better way to spend my time than watching game shows on their giant flat screen, or reading a magazine, or scrolling through my phone. Doing schoolwork gave meaning to waiting around. 

As I ponder when and if I should retire, it's considerations such as this that give me pause: what will define my down time if it's not my on time?

Editorial

In a light-hearted attempt to re-introduce the topic of editing for correct punctuation, today I asked the sixth-graders in my English classes what their favorite punctuation mark was. 

The results of my poll were unexpected. The question mark was very popular not only because many of these young writers consider themselves curious, but also because of its fun shape. The exclamation mark was shouted out for excitement, which was emphatically its greatest strength. Some loved the comma for its ability to join things clearly, and others appreciated the ellipsis for its mystery and promise of more to come. A good number recognized the period as the workhorse of punctuation it is, even while they acknowledged that it wasn't very exciting.

The semicolon had one fan whose reason was "because nobody knows how it is used, and whenever I see it in the wild I feel fancy."

"I love the semicolon; I use it all the time," I replied.