The Other Side of Town

There is a lot of diversity in the student body of my school, primarily developmental, intellectual, ethnic, and economic. In general, the kids take the differences among them in stride, but they are not always aware of what divides them.

Today, for example, my classes were reading "Raymond's Run", a short story by Toni Cade Bambara about a little girl nick-named Squeaky growing up in Harlem back in the late 20th century. The task was to find notable details that revealed something essential about the characters and discuss them with a small group. Squeaky tells the reader about another girl who used to be a friend of mine when she first moved to Harlem from Baltimore and got beat up by everybody till I took up for her. 

"They live in a tough neighborhood," one student noted.

"I have a connection," added another boy. "There are some older kids in my neighborhood who always fight and threaten us."

"Mine, too," said a girl. "And the police come all the time where we live."

"My neighbor has to call the police sometimes, too," another student told us, "because of teenagers being loud and disrespectful."

The first student's eyebrows got higher and higher as he listened to his classmates. "I never knew how lucky I was to live in my neighborhood," he said. "Nothing happens there."

Finding Fault

I was growing increasingly frustrated as I checked the work of my students right before lunch. "Anybody who isn't finished will have to stay until it's done!" I announced. "You'll have to show me your paragraph before you go."

When the fifth kid handed me an assignment that was missing the same essential detail as the four I had just seen, I gave up. "Forget it!" I said. "None of you are doing it right!"

The class looked at me with mild alarm, clearly wondering if they should stay or go.

I shrugged. "You must have a terrible teacher!" I laughed. "Let's try again tomorrow."

Sticky Criminal

"Give me that!" a usually mild-mannered student shouted over the hubbub of our class.

I stepped over and stepped in. "What's happening?"

Her randomly-assigned partner for the day was impishly dangling a piece of scotch tape just out of her reach.

"He won't give that to me!" she explained indignantly.

"Why do you want it?" I asked.

"He told me to put my thumbprint on it, and then he used it to unlock my iPad," she reported with wide eyes, "AND... it worked!"

He laughed even as I confiscated the piece of tape and crumpled it up. "I'm like a secret agent!" he said. "I'm going to get thumb prints of everybody!"

"You are not," I told him. "It's like making copies of people's keys, or stealing the combination to their lockers."

His face fell.

"Way cooler, though," I consoled him. "But still, not allowed."

Post-Vacation Coma

Like the grocery store yesterday, the halls here at school were eerily quiet this morning. Students silently dragged in a few at time, slumping sleepily at their desks through the announcements, and the day continued on like that.

"To be honest?" I told my reading class, "I kind of like this side of you!"

They groaned half-heartedly, my enthusiasm clearly overwhelming them.

"Well, lucky for you, I have an activity planned where you are supposed to be, are you ready for it? SILENT!"

The task was to line up in order of their ages without talking. The record time for them to beat was 2 minutes and 6 seconds, and when they were finished, I congratulated them on their success. "I have some good news and bad news," I announced. "The bad news is that it took you almost 4 minutes to do that."

Their faces fell a bit.

"The good news is that you were the quietest group I've ever seen!"

And to that praise they let up a tiny cheer, before wordlessly returning to their seats.

Mind Your Own

The grocery store was eerily quiet late this afternoon. When the whoosh of the sliding glass doors ushered me into the produce department, there was only one other family shopping. "I need parsnips!" the dad pointed at his teenaged daughters. "I'll go get the meat."

The girls and I crossed paths several times. As I picked up celery, avocados, and cabbage, they silently paced the vegetable case, unable to complete their mission. Watching them search, I started to look, too, and I spotted the parsnips right away. Should I point them out? I wondered, or would that be creepy? When at last they found them, I was relieved, but by then I had a predicament of my own.

Where are the carrots!? I scanned and scanned again, unwilling to believe they could possibly be sold out, even on the Sunday night after Thanksgiving. Finally I located them...

right next to the parsnips.

Salad Days

After several nights of huge, wonderful meals, the thing that sounded just right tonight was a great big salad. With turkey and a cranberry-orange-miso vinaigrette, of course-- it's still Thanksgiving!

Then Came the Real Escape

We did a Titanic-themed escape room today and, with eleven heads working to solve the puzzles to open the elevator doors before the portholes totally filled with water, made it out with a couple minutes to spare.

Which begs the question, if it had been the real ship, what good would getting up on deck have been?