Play for Pay

"Do you have to go to college to be a professional soccer player?" a student asked me today. 

"Are you asking for yourself, or someone else?" I responded.

"It's me," the student replied. "I want to be a soccer player, but I don't want to got to college."

"College soccer is another level up," I said. "It will give you more playing time, and more visibility to professional scouts. That's why many soccer players do go to college."

"Is that true in other countries, too?" the student asked. "Don't they have academies you don't have to pay for?"

"I don't know," I shook my head. "What country do you want to play for?"

"I don't want to say," the student told me. "I just don't want to go to college."

"Well, if you're a good athlete, you can get a scholarship, and then the college will support you in your classes. You can get help and tutoring."

The student seemed unconvinced, and we ended our conversation there, but as I walked away I considered how many, many times over the years I've been a teacher I've had such a discussion, with a few variations. Usually, it's the sport that is different, but today was the first time I've ever had that talk with a girl.

Vantage Point

I was following to my virtual PD session this morning with half an ear and a glance at the screen every little bit. To be honest, they lost me when they started 15 minutes late, posting the registration link at least 4 times in the chat, trouble shooting for stragglers, and gleefully reporting the participation number as it climbed to over 70 people waiting around for it to begin. 

Even so, one name popped out at me from the list of participants: it was a former student who was obviously now a middle school ELA teacher in our district. A quick google showed me that she was a 6th grade special educator at a nearby school, and I thought back to what I remembered about her. She loved to write, and she was pretty good at it, too, despite struggling in other subjects and with executive functioning. 

The first year of middle school can be a crisis year for kids who were holding it together academically with a lot of support in elementary, and that's what happened to her. We met with her parents a couple of times, and even working together as a team to help her, eventually we all decided that testing for special education services would be appropriate in her case. She was found eligible, and with the extra support she received, she became a real success story, working hard to make the honor roll by eighth grade. 

And now here she was, offering other kids the same sort of help she herself once needed to be the best she could. That's the kind of long view that makes having taught in the same place so long so rewarding

And Many More

When Emily requested flan as her birthday dessert, building the whole menu around that Spanish favorite seemed like a good idea, and so tapas it was! And today, as I peeled pears, deveined shrimp, marinated swordfish, cooked chickpeas, shelled fresh beans, scrubbed clams, sliced mushrooms, rolled meatballs, chopped a lotta lotta garlic, so that I could grill, seer, sauté, poach, and braise, it was fun pulling everything together. And this evening, when I plated the jamón ibérico, manchego cheese, marcona almonds, apples, dates, and homemade sourdough toasts, and popped the cork on the champagne, I was really glad to have a chance to celebrate Emily with Bill and Treat and Heidi and Nadika.

No Fault Manufacturing

The wheels were falling off of our top dishwasher rack, and no amount of macgyvering could make them stay on more than one or two cycles. I did some research, and it quickly became apparent that this was a common problem with this model of dishwasher. Indeed, it was a similar situation with our last model that led to its replacement: then the parts to fix the problem were not available, and a new upper rack cost more than we paid for the whole machine. 

But this time, the part was readily available, or rather a redesigned version approved by the manufacturer was easy to obtain, although every supplier made it clear that installation directions were not included. I was a bit daunted by all this, but upon continuing my research I found a YouTube video that made the job seem very doable. With that, I ordered the part. 

And everything was going smoothly this morning when I unloaded the dishwasher, removed the clips and pulled out the rack to begin my repair, until I noticed the extra piece that was not mentioned in the video. Frowning, I disassembled my work, and tapped on the comments. Most were quite positive, but several mentioned a couple of missing steps, and one provided the link to a companion video that helped me finish the job. 

There was one comment that has stuck with me, though. Let me get this straight. They make a defective part, and then they charge to replace it with a "better" version, but don't provide directions, so you have to pay somebody else to do it? Why wasn't it a recall? 

Dress Rehearsal

Now that we are week into October, the neighbors are starting to trim their homes with spooky lights and decorations. Darkness fell as we walked the dog this evening, and the streets were aglow with islands of orange and purple, as well as a few inflatables-- Jack Skellington, Oogie Boogie, the Headless Horseman. 

There were also a few gourds and pumpkins on the stoops of those who either do not know or do not fear the squirrels that will probably eat them long before the 31st. Fake skeletons are also popular, as are the companion fake tombstones, but those decorations are not to my taste. 

We even saw a pack of tiny tots dressed up as princesses and super heroes, riding their little three-wheeled scooters. 

"What do you think they're doing?" I asked Heidi. "Birthday party?"

"Maybe they're just practicing for Halloween," she laughed.

Blinded by the Light

"My doctor is so nutty!" Heidi told me when I picked her up from her eye appointment this afternoon.

"How do you mean?" I said. Because of COVID restrictions, it's been a while since I've accompanied her to any appointments, and so I've never met the guy.

We laughed as she filled me in on his idiosyncratic comments and behavior. "And you know, I have no idea what he even looks like, because I'm dilated whenever he examines me. To me, he's just some tall, skinny shadow with a soft southern accent!"

I shook my head, because I knew exactly what she meant. One time, years ago, we were at a craft show on Thanksgiving weekend. As we browsed the aisles of pottery and painting, a woman walked toward us. Seeing Heidi, she tilted her head and smiled, but Heidi ignored her and continued on.

"Wasn't that Doctor Keyes?" I said, pointing my chin in the direction the woman had gone. 

"Where?" Heidi asked.

"Right there," I rolled my eyes to the next stall where the woman was shopping.

"Her?" Heidi shook her head. "No way!"

And yet? It was. I recognized her from all the appointments I had sat in on, and of course, she recognized Heidi as a patient. But Heidi had no idea what the doc looked like, because by the time she came into the examination room, Heidi really couldn't see too much.

Just then we heard the woman ask a question about the jewelry she was looking at. “Holy shit!” Heidi said. “That’s Dr. Keyes!”

Mutable

Even though it has been chillier than usual here in the mid-Atlantic these first days of October, we refuse to turn the heat on at this time of year. Just knowing that we'll certainly need to switch on the air conditioning at some point before autumn begins in earnest makes it seem silly to change the setting on the thermostat. 

That said, 61 degrees indoors is a wee bit nippy to be padding around the place barefoot.

Fortunately?

Temps are rising, the firewood lady rang the doorbell today, and we have plenty of fleece and flannel to keep us warm.