Nows and Thens

On a day that started with the assistant principal giving a ten minute lecture to the sixth graders which consisted entirely of don'ts and or elses, the parent of a student stopped by our team meeting. He was there to sign some paperwork, but also to discuss some concerns the teachers have about his son's behavior. We spent some time problem solving and putting a few supportive strategies in place.

Even though I do not have the boy in my class, I was glad to meet his dad, because I remember when he was a student at our school. Twenty years ago he was in the most restrictive program for kids who had trouble controlling their behavior.

"You were here then?" he asked, squinting.

"Yep!" I answered cheerfully.

"The school has changed so much since then," he said.

"We have a lot new windows and classrooms," I agreed.

"Nah," he said, "I mean, everyone is so helpful now. They want my son to succeed. Back then it was all punishment, punishment, punishment." He shook his head.

We were silent for a moment.

"I guess we've all grown since then," I told him. "At least I hope so."

Recovery Period

After sleeping in a little longer than usual, I had to down a cup of strong coffee and slip on my shades before I stepped out into the brisk April morning with the dog today. Oh, it wasn't alcohol that gave me this hangover: it was just a week of getting everything ready for a houseful of guests and then three days of celebration.

Whew! I am looking forward to getting back to work tomorrow. Middle School will be a nice break!

Lucky Dog

It's not every dog who gets to celebrate her one year adoption at a canine sports club with a dozen of her besties wrestling and playing on the agility equipment while jamming out to a Hits of the 90s playlist.

Oh, and then there was this:



Her very own cocktail menu! (Thanks, Bill!) With cookies and cupcakes and veggies and chips  and drinks for the people and cake for the dogs, Lucy's party was one to remember.

Overheard in the Museum of American History

Never mind the hat, I'll just take the whip.

Who's Julia Child?

The Ups and Downs of Extraterrestrial Life

Today's Jolly Rancher Challenge, after yesterday's assignment to write an ode to a planet, was to say the best thing and the worst thing about living on another planet. The answers were straight out of Kids Say the Darndest Things.

"The solitude would be a plus," said one guy, "but the suffocation would be pretty bad."

"I would love all the newness!" another student told me, "but? Ugh! No WiFi!"

"The low gravity would be great, but the -600 temps would be pretty cold."

"I'd love to see the rings every day, but no solid surface would make it hard to walk around."

"Well, I'd never be cold on Venus," a girl said, "but I don't think I would live very long!"

No Witnesses

They tore the trees out today. Years ago, when they first planted the birches, and a school renovation enlarged my windows, I made a deal with my students that I would never close the blinds. If they could stay focused, we could all enjoy the natural light. Since then, I've kept my word and so has every group of kids, through snow and rain and thunder and wind, and this year, even through the construction of a whole school outside.

The digging, the noise, the crane, the bulldozers, the concrete mixers-- we have regarded it all with mild interest, even as the leaves turned golden and then fell, giving us a better view of those proceedings. And now spring has arrived. And this morning, just as the first green was velveting the graceful white branches, men in hard hats and bobcats with chains and saws assailed the trees and rather savagely took them down and moved them out of the way, presumably for some next phase.

For that? I closed the blinds.

Good Call

One of the assistants in our school is a former student. Young, smart, energetic, and full of positive energy, she brightens any class she works with.

This morning I looked across the room during the announcements to see Z throwing his shoes over the table at her. She nimbly dodged the flying sneakers and, when he was out of ammunition, calmly asked if he wanted to go to the gym to walk around.

Shaking his head furiously, he snatched his beloved school bus pictures from the floor and tore them in two.

"How about the clinic?" she suggested. "Do you want to go lie down?"

He visibly relaxed and nodded.

"Let's go," she said, and as she led him out of the room in his socks, I heard her tell him, "Next time you're tired just ask to rest. You don't have to throw your shoes at me!"

A few minutes later she was back. "How is he?" I asked.

"He was asleep before I left," she reported.