Exits and Entrances

Taking advantage of the beach cruiser bikes that were included in our rental house, Emily, Heidi, and I pedaled out the rutted clay road yesterday morning. Our destination was the northernmost spit of land on our little peninsula, but the way was not direct. We meandered around a little pond and through a horse farm before we even made it to the main road. At one point we rounded a little bend, flustering a half dozen vultures feeding on a deer carcass by the side of the road. A few held their ground as we rolled by, and I could neither unsee the long stretchy piece of gore one was pulling from the gut, nor unsmell the sharp stench, but those unpleasantries were joined by an abiding appreciation for the role of the scavenger, especially when half an hour later on our return trip we pedaled by four times as many vultures and the indisputable calculus that over half the deer was gone. 

Acceptance Speech

We are away at the beach for our traditional Oscar party weekend, and to be honest, although we have spent the last 30 hours trying to put as positive as possible a spin on it, the house we have this time just doesn't measure up to past rentals. It's puzzling, because we are using the same company, but after being spoiled by smart renovations and stylish furnishings for the last two years, we were disappointed to find a chopped up three-level place with shabby furniture and a so-so equipped kitchen. Far from allowing it to spoil our weekend, the four of us have spent the day improvising and innovating our way around such obstacles as a dishwasher rack with falling off wheels (scouring the drawers for missing parts and rubber bands), no charcoal lighter (a brown paper bag and tin foil  fashioned into a chimney), and creating a sand sifter from an olive container. We have certainly congratulated ourselves plenty for our ingenuity, but in the spirit of the weekend...

I would like to thank my mother, who always taught us that no matter what the problem is, if you use your imagination and know-how, you can figure out a way over, under, or around any obstacles and fix what needs to be. (Waves golden statuette in the air and exits stage right as the orchestra swells.)

Power of Suggestion

"Frozen waffle are my jam," said the very talented chef the other night on Top Chef.

Heidi and I looked at each other. "Uh oh," she said.

"What?" Kate, Josh's girlfriend asked.

"He's going to get eliminated for that," I predicted. "No matter how good his dish is," I shook my head sadly, "you can't use frozen waffles at this point."

The four of us giggled through the episode as it played out just as Heidi and I predicted. "I can't believe that," Josh laughed at the end.

I was making coffee when he and Kate got up this morning. "Do we have any waffles?" he asked me without a trace of irony.

"Why? I asked, "Are they your jam?"

Positive Thinking

I introduced the 7th annual 100 Day Writing Challenge to my students today. Over the years I've learned that some kids need a bit of a cushion to make their hundred days, and so this time, in addition to breaking the challenge up into three mini-challenges, we are starting a few days early with some warm-up posts and finishing a couple days after the actual 100 mark. I'm hoping that will boost the number of "Centurions" who successfully complete the challenge.

"What if we all finish?" one student asked today.

"That would be great!" I told him.

"But what about the t-shirts?" he continued.

"I guess you would all get one," I answered.

"But then you would go broke!"

"Maybe," I shrugged, "but it would be totally worth it!"

Senior League

It wasn't long ago that the cry of "Kobe" as a shot went up meant that "swish" was the expectation as the basketball came down. I should know-- for a long time I have had a mini basketball hoop and a duct tape strip on the carpet about 10 feet away from it in my classroom, and I have heard that cry for years.

On most days the "Lollipop Line" is open in the three minutes between third period and the bell for lunch. Any student who feels like it can stop by, grab one of the ten or so mini-basketballs from the milk crate by the line, and take a shot to win the choice of a piece of candy from the large plastic barrel I keep behind my desk.

Oh, there are rules: hit the lights or the ceiling? Then you are out for the day. Otherwise, follow your shot, get your rebound, and hustle back in line for another chance. On any given day two or three kids out of the 15 or so who show up make the shot, but everyone has a good time, including me as I referee and cheer each student on. It is a simple way to build rapport and community in three minutes a day, as evidenced by the fact that I rarely have behavior issues with any of the regulars.

This year there is one student who always waits until the bell has rung and his classmates are gone. "Will you take a shot?" he asks me every day.

"Sure," I tell him, and I don't mind it when I miss, because it shows that I'm willing to take a chance.

Today was just such a day; the shot I took was way off.

"Kobe!" he cried when I missed.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"You're just like Kobe Bryant!" he continued, in case I didn't get the reference. "He misses all the time, too! There is one difference though... He's old!"

Try it, You'll Like It!

Last month when Josh was in the hospital, he and I passed away a few of the seemingly endless hours by making up a new card game. Based loosely on a combination of a couple sets of rules we found by googling "cards for two," it turned out to be a quick little game with a fun balance of luck and strategy.

For a few days, he and I were the only ones who had ever played it, but after a while we roped Heidi and Kate, Josh's girlfriend, into a few hands. To be honest, their response was a little lukewarm, but that didn't stop me from buying a deck of cards at the straw market on Great Stirrup Cay last Sunday.

The deck itself with its bright blue and yellow Bahamian flag and handy plastic case was well worth the five bucks I paid for it, and after a while I was even able to convince Heidi, her mom, and her brother's friend Dee to play cards with me. Three or four hands later? We all agreed! This was a good game!

"Oh, I can't wait to tell Josh!" I said. "Our game is an international success!"

What Educators Make

I knew it was something serious when I saw the email late Sunday night. There was going to be a staff meeting in the library before school the next morning. I waited until we reached Miami at around 7 am to send a text to find out what was going on. "Sad news," came the reply from my friend Mary. One of our staff members had died the night before.

I was sorry not to be at school to help the kids through it, and sorry, too, not to be there to share the loss with our school community; as it was, Heidi and I talked it through a lot yesterday, and that was helpful, but it would have been a comfort to be with everyone else.

I heard later that a steady stream of former students had passed through the building all afternoon, drawn back to share their sadness and their memories of a big personality. He was a complicated man, and not everyone liked him, but there was no denying all that he had contributed to our school in the 20 years he had been there.

"It's funny," a colleague said to me today, "most teachers retire, and so when they pass away they don't get such an outpouring."

"True," I said, "but really? This could be for any of us. It's not taking anything away from him if we realize that we should never doubt that we have made a difference."