Says Who?

 The American education system is failing its students," a sixth grader told me the other day.

"How's that?" I asked.

"It was created over a hundred years ago," he told me rapidly, "and it hasn't changed at all since then. It is preparing students for minimum wage jobs that won't be here in ten years, because robots will do them."

"Better give me your iPad then," I said, "you don't need that to prepare for a non-existent job."

He blinked.

"No really," I said. "Where's your evidence for this claim?"

"Oh, I have lots of evidence," he assured me. "Lots."

"Like what?" I probed.

"The system was created over a hundred years ago, and it hasn't changed," he repeated.

"I know for a fact that it has changed," I told him. "It's changed in the 30 years I've been teaching in it, not to mention the time before that when I was a student myself."

"The jobs we're preparing for won't exist!" he insisted.

"Maybe not," I agreed, "but that's why we're teaching you how to think and problem solve, and to find and evaluate the information you need for that," I told him. "So where is your evidence and what is the source of it?"

But it was a debate I couldn't win, because he was stuck on his premise, so I told him we could discuss it more later. Still, when I saw him next a couple of days later, I just couldn't resist needling him a bit. "Good morning!" I welcomed him brightly to class. "Here I am, ready to fail you another day!"

To his credit, he laughed, and I did, too, especially knowing that our argument unit is coming up next.

Practicing Practice

"These kids!" my friend Mary announced with exasperation this morning before the bell rang. "These kids are going to drive me to retire! I'm not sure what I'm missing, but they're not getting it!"

"I know how you feel," I answered, "I'm feeling it, too. There's just no flow, yet."

Another colleague popped her head in the door. "I'm glad someone else is feeling it, too!" she said. "Everything seems like such a slog, so far."

But notice, dear reader, all the words in red. That is classic growth mindset language. So even in our moments of frustration and impatience, deep in our teacher's hearts, we express confidence that we and the kids, with the right kind of effort and practice, will improve our current situation.

What more can we hope for?

No Sick Day Here

I've lost my voice, but with no fever and a series of negative COVID tests, I've chosen to report to work anyway. Part of the problem is the difficulty and inconvenience of making sub plans with productive activities. Unless I'm here to lead the lesson, it's hard to move very far forward or keep up with the other sixth grade teachers. 

Oh, sure, I know that there are times when taking off is unavoidable, but I'm worried that a positive COVID test, along with the mandatory 5 days out, is inevitable at some point this year, and so I decided to slog through the day. My throat is dry, though, and I had a couple of embarrassing coughing spells when I had to talk too much. For the most part, the kids have been pretty good, but my last class of the day was a little rambunctious. 

"Listen," I said, "I'm losing my voice and I'm losing my patience. One of those we can't do anything about, but the other? You and I have equal control over. What's it going to be?"

Bless their hearts? It wasn't pretty, but we made it to lunch with only a few hoarse redirections from me.

No Confidence

We have adopted a new textbook this school year, and today I made the first assignment from the online version. The learning curve was moderately steep, as neither the students nor I had never used the interface, and I couldn't see what their end looked like until they pulled it up in class. It was relatively intuitive, though, and I was up front with them about how new the tools were. 

Even so, I spent the class circulating through the room, checking in and troubleshooting as best I could. Some of the support I offered was more content-related, and that was fine, too. We were reading the lyric poem, "Life Doesn't Frighten Me" by Maya Angelou, and answering the pre-formulated questions, something I have rarely done in my career. 

I have designed my own lessons based on student needs and interests for 30 years, but this publication is touted for being closely aligned to and supportive of our state standards (and hence the test), so who am I to kvetch? One of the items was phrased in such a way that many students were confused, however, and I found myself clarifying the directions over and over. 

The students were supposed to Annotate: In lines 13–21, Highlight the phrase that is repeated in most of the stanzas. I think the disconnect was that it wasn't clear that they were looking for one phrase in that section that was repeated throughout the poem. As a result, many students spent time trying to find repetition within that particular passage, which wasn't there, beyond the pronoun 'I'. If I had written the question myself, I would have revised it after the first class so that it was less perplexing, but we were stuck with it. 

After I helped one student, he came up to me reproachfully a little while later. "You told me that I was supposed to highlight "Life doesn't frighten me at all"! he said indignantly. "But when I looked at Lucas's, I saw I was wrong. He highlighted 'I' all the way through!"

"Really?" I replied, looking over my glasses with raised eyebrows. "You looked at another student's work after I helped you, and you think his is right and not yours?"

"Uh," he hesitated.

"Why don't you go back and help Lucas correct his," I suggested, shaking my head. 

Out of Practice

That third day of the long weekend turned out to be perfect for an activity we haven't undertaken so much lately. I'm not sure why we haven't been hiking more these days-- there was a time when it was almost an every weekend kind of thing-- but since we got home from Maine in early July, our feet have not neared a trail. Blame the summer heat, but even before June, our walks have been generally paved and in the neighborhood. Before this, I'm pretty sure our last wooded ramble was back in February for Lucy's birthday.

Which is why I made sure to make our group a heart breakfast of eggs and butternut squash hone fries, before loading our packs with hummos and veggies, apple slices, almond butter, pretzels, string cheese, and banana bread, so that we would be well-prepared as we headed south to Prince William Forest.

Even though she was from this area and has spent a huge part of her life outdoors, camping, climbing, skiing, biking, and hiking, my friend had never been to this relatively little-known national park, and I was eager to show it to her. Until probably about 10 years or so ago, I hadn't been there either. Since then, we have explored many of the trails in the 15,000 acre forest, and we have also found that one signature hike, a 6 mile in and out, complete with a dog swimming hole, boardwalk, abandoned pyrite mine, and waterfall, that we love to take with friends.

Today, though, despite the perfect temperature, light breeze, deserted trails, and Elton John sing-along? After not hiking much lately, those were 

six. 

long. 

miles!

It felt good to be back on the trail, though, and I'm hopeful we're going to get out there a little more this fall.

My Friendliest Friend

We were checking out the offerings at our local farmers market when my friend from Colorado pointed to a stall. "What are those?" she asked wide-eyed.

They were mushrooms, several varieties luxuriantly arranged in plain wooden quart containers. Most of the markets in this area have them, and I usually pass by without stopping. "Can we go look?" she asked, and so we stepped beneath the awning and admired them.

"I know nothing about mushrooms like this," my friend told the vendor earnestly. "Do you mind telling me about them?"

The young woman's face lit up and she smiled excitedly. "Not at all!" she answered. 

And that is how we heard the story of how the daughter of farmers started growing mushrooms as a COVID project, expanding into her neighbor's shed when they no longer needed it, adding humidity controls and air conditioning for year-round growing. She told us that she acquired her her mycelium through the mail, and that it arrived suspended in a nutrient-rich liquid which she injected into organic grain, usually spelt or millet, to colonize it, before transferring the spawn to a sawdust substrate, which she got at local lumber mills and sterilized.

She showed us the varieties she had, and explained their flavor, texture, and any medicinal qualities. She gave pointers about how to prepare both the stems and the caps, and she also told us that she had recently acquired some shared commercial kitchen space which she was looking forward to using to create and package mushroom products to sell alongside her fresh mushrooms. 

Her passion and enthusiasm were so positive and engaging that we walked away, after buying a quart each of lion's mane and king oyster, feeling lighter than we had when we stopped. "I never would have talked to her," I told my friend, "but I sure am glad you did!"

Busyday Saturday

We had errands this morning, a baby shower tea at 2, and an appointment with Sir Elton at 8 sharp. Thank goodness it’s a long weekend!