Real World Application

I was just telling my mom and brother and sister how I group and regroup my students all the time. I have a few reasons for doing so:

1. I've observed that it's developmentally challenging  for 11- and 12-year-olds to consistently pick seats where they will be productive.

2. Although choice is a powerful positive, it's stressful for some people to have to choose their own seats.

3. Changing seats frequently makes change less anxiety-producing. It also alleviates complacency and/or boredom.

4. I group students hetero- or homogeneously based on the assignment or activity, and designate a captain based upon different criteria. Everybody earns the position of leader sometime.

Today was a new seat day, and it's always interesting to hear how the groups settle in to their latest arrangement. Sometimes the captains are sure and steady, sometimes strident or silent. This morning though, I was most impressed by the social skills of one new leader. As the students waited for their directions, he made a little small talk with the other kids at his table. "So," he started, "I have a question for you."

His group turned their attention to him. "What's your favorite IB MYP Global Context?" he asked.

And with that?

He had them.

Roadside Assistance

The call came at 10:46 am. "Hi, it's me," Treat said.

I knew he was flying back to college early this afternoon. "What's up?" I asked.

There was a pause. "Well, my dad asked me to drive him to the airport, and there wasn't very much gas, so I kind of panicked, and now I'm stuck."

"Where are you?" I asked and when he told me, I said, "We'll be there in 20 minutes!" without hesitation.

Heidi and I threw on some layers and dashed out the door. We practically skidded into the nearest gas station, bought a gas can, filled it with a couple gallons, and sped to the interstate. On the way, we rolled the windows down to vent the fumes. Treat was parked in a service lot which was pretty much deserted on Sunday morning.

"Ta da!" I greeted him, relishing my role as hero. We pulled out the gas can and set to rescuing. The first snag was the tank cover. We couldn't find the button on the dash or by the driver's seat to open it. At last we resorted to the manual which informed us a simple push on the cover would unlatch it.

Next, our fancy new gas can was the issue. The nozzle had some kind of spring-loaded locking mechanism to prevent it from spilling (or venting-- we should have known then) that was supposed to release when you placed the spout in the tank opening and pushed. Not for us! we dribbled gas down the car and into the puddle we were standing in several times before finally disassembling the nozzle and concluding that it was defective. It didn't help that the directions on the side of the can had been torn off.

"We're going to have to McGyver it!" I said. "Do we have an empty bottle?" Heidi produced one from beneath the passenger seat. I had meant to put my gardening tools in the attic a couple of weeks ago, but fortunately they were still in the back of my station wagon. I rummaged through them and grabbed the pruning saw to clip off the bottom of the bottle.

Unfortunately, the neck was not long enough to open the hinged flap on the tank. Not to worry! I grabbed my soil pH tester and jammed the spike down the bottle to open the hinge. Then we sloooooowly poured the gas directly from the can into our makeshift funnel.

Sure, we all smelled like gasoline, probably because our hands and shoes were covered in it, but Treat started up the car and drove home.

Mission accomplished!

A Maze of Twisty Little Passages All Alike

There was a bunch of text and what looked like computer code on the screens of both Riley and Treat's laptops yesterday. "Is that some kind of game?" I asked. Riley nodded and I was transported back to the basement of the student union at my college.

The year was 1980, I was taking computer science, and you had to sign up for a terminal that was wired to the huge mainframe computer on the other side of the glass and cinder block wall. In addition to my homework, which was writing simple programs in BASIC and COBOL, I spent a lot of screen time playing a game we called "Cave".

This was years before Apple introduced the Macintosh I with its graphic user interface, and so the game involved reading a narrative which offered information with both explicit and implied choices and typing in simple commands to try to explore a network of caves filled with treasure and peril. One of the first ever computer games, it was novel and addictive. Back in 1980, we crowded three or four to a cubicle and collaborated on navigating the virtual adventure, shouting suggestions and repeating rumors we had heard from other people who played. Still, ours was a relatively obscure pastime, and  there was no internet to search for cheat codes, so we stumbled through as best we could with limited success.

As I was describing it to the boys, Riley found a version on the internet and began playing it. I wish I could say it all came back to me, but as the game progressed it seemed closer to a dream than a memory, and I grasped at any vaguely familiar detail. Soon, despite appreciating its pioneering nature, the boys grew weary of the primitive game and quit (after the dwarf killed them a couple of times), but it had recaptured me.

I found several websites that outlined the history of the game and some that provided annotated directions for the entire challenge. As I read through them, some foggy specifics did actually return. For example, the bird you find is afraid of the rod you have probably already picked up, so you must drop it to capture him, and then retrieve it. Likewise, you can set that birdie loose on the vicious snake that bars your way a bit on down the passage and the bird will win, but if you simply key in the command kill snake, you'll get the snarky reply With what? Your bare hands? To that you need only type, Yes, and you will receive this: Congratulations! You just killed a giant snake with your bare hands!

As I read on, I realized that I had no desire to actually type the commands myself; after 35 years I was content to watch over the virtual shoulder of this cyber adventurer and let him show me how it ended.

XYZZY!

Good Cheer

In our family the night before Thanksgiving is a simple meal of soup and salad with the family, and the night after Thanksgiving has become a simple meal of pasta, salad, bread, and leftover desserts with an ever-widening guest list. This year we had 21 for second night, nine more than Thanksgiving itself. It was a warm mixture of friends and family with guests from 7 to 76. After dinner the groups at the table amicably formed and reformed, conversations flowing in and out and up and down as people cleaned up, moved over, made coffee, checked on the kids, fetched dessert, took the dogs out, and opened more wine. No one was in a hurry to leave, and even when they did, folks stood around for a good twenty minutes saying their good byes. It was the perfect spirit with which to begin the holidays.

Remember Me to One WHo Lives There

After authoring this blog for so many years, it sometimes (ok, rather often) slips my mind as to whether or not I've written about something before. Many's the time, therefore, that I've used the search feature to double check a topic or a title. This afternoon, for example, I had the notion to write something about the bounty of parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme I was able to harvest from my little garden and use to season the stuffing for dinner tonight. I was also thinking that I might tie in the idea of being especially thankful for actually growing a few other things for the meal, too, like the butternut squash, but I couldn't quite recall if I'd ever written about something like that. So, I searched up a few key words, and I found one entry. On November 23 of last year, I wrote about not being able to get ahold of gingerbread stout and trying instead a parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme saison instead. Good news, friends! I got the stout this year! One more thing to be thankful for, even if it wasn't my favorite.

Day of Rec

The day began with an intense game of Uno Stacko (a color-coded version of Jenga), and proceeded to pick-up sticks (We swear we won't cheat!), pentominoes, various Wii Fit challenges, and several rounds of Whatyamadrawit, all before breakfast.

Then we played the ukuleles for a while, practicing a duet of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. In between there were games on the iPads and games on our phones, and later in the day there was one lengthy hand of crazy Crazy Eights, and a few trivia challenges, more ukulele, and some guitar.

What can I say? Players gonna play!

Special Guest

My mom came to school today to borrow my car to go out to lunch with some friends. I expected her around 10:30, and I told my third period class that she was coming. Oh my! What excitement. 

"Can we see her?" they wanted to know.

"Well, yes," I answered, "she needs to get the keys from me."

"So she's going to come here? To this room?" someone verified.

"Yes," I said, "yes."

When the office called announcing her eminent arrival, the class waited wide-eyed, and students near the back craned their necks and stood on their toes. When at last she entered the room they greeted her with silly waves and giddy grins. "That's your mother?" one little girl demanded. "She looks more like your sister!" 

I took that as a compliment to my mom and gave her a little hug as I handed her the keys. "Awwww," the class sighed, and with that she was gone.

"Hey! Ms. S!" a student called. "Does that mean you're grounded?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your mom took your car keys!"