Tales from Kindergarten

When it comes to school, my youngest son has just begun. And this little guy tells tales that illustrate his day like no other. It helps that he is often accompanied by his friend, Rocket, who has an equally interesting perspective on the world.

Bragan asked me today, "Are you an avid reader?" Why yes, of course. I love to read, and I do it as often as I can. He assured me that he and Rocket are too. "Rocket has hundreds of books, mom." And dogs, he added. Rocket has one hundred dogs. Some are Golden Retrievers and some are labs. The rest are pitbull mixes. That last part was old news about Rocket, the alien from outer space, a longtime family friend who visits regularly.

"We should write a book," Bragan announced. "We can write it about training dogs. Rocket can help us and I'll draw the pictures."

He then showed us he can draw a ship at sea with loads of windows and passengers. Sharks and jellyfish swam in the deep. This was shortly before he told me about a musical instrument that has become extinct. It's called a jagslack and it's louder and more menacing than a shrieking eel, but according to Bragan, it was an instrument made for parades. They stopped making them in 1994, no 1991, and Rocket has the last one. 

Later, I asked, "What was the best part of school today?"After bedtime, bath, and stories, I was ready for proper closure to the day when he announced, "That I didn't get in trouble today. Because yesterday, I spent one hour in the first grade class." According to Bragan, he was hiding his face in his shirt--I can only imagine what else. 

"What did you do there?"

"I sat there and watched...Then I used the force." 

"To do what?"

"To turn tables around and see what they were doing. Rocket was there, too. We went to the second grade and third grade and fourth grade. But I didn't see Aminata because she's in the fifth grade."

I remembered the structure he was building with his magnet set before bath time.  It was multidimensional, defying gravity, and it housed super heroes within its walls to protect them from "the serpentine monsters". 

"Will they be saved or defeated?" I asked.

"They'll be saved by Rocket," he assured me.

I can only hope so. But if he doesn't, I promise to do my best.

Breaking News

Eighth grade teachers have iPads.

I'm a skeptic and a worrier when it comes to this grand technology rollout, but who doesn't like to open a box of something shiny and new that they can call their very own? My colleagues filed into my room to find gifts labeled with their names, but the shine wore off quickly when we realized that the setup process would be rough around the edges.

"I'm a pencil and paper kind of gal. Better yet, where's my chisel?" one math teacher asked. Even though her upload icon was spinning and spinning with no end in sight, she waited patiently. I can't say the same for the rest of the group. When the setup didn't go their way, they jumped ship in favor of getting something else done. It was my room, so I stayed.

Change takes time. It requires flexibility and motivation to learn. Time is absolutely the #1 thing we need most with or without the iPads. If I'm flexible, if I'm motivated, will I be rewarded by this tool built for efficiency? Does this mean I'll stand less at the copier? Spend fewer hours managing papers? I guess I'll enter grades in realtime with this handheld device. Students will be entirely informed of their own grades and performance. They'll actually read the comments I leave for them on assignments. This is not to mention the many fun things we'll be able to do. Right?....Right?!

Wish It Were Sunday

Monday, Monday. It wouldn't bother so much if I didn't always feel like the entire week hinged on its success. Do I have a fridge full of groceries? Are my kids' backpacks in order? Have I checked the snack calendar, Parentvue grades, and the Friday newsletter? Even a little behind on one or more of those items this morning, looks like we pulled off a successful start to the week. We won't be outed this time for relaxing on a work-free weekend without even a nod to the washing machine. Another week started with a tank full of steam instead of high-test fuel. Nothing new. As long as I can just close my eyes for a little bit here...I'll be off and running again.

Deja Vu

Last spring, I worked alongside other parent volunteers to pack up a trailer of goods for States, the last regatta of my son's senior year after four years of rowing. I was sad to see the end of this era, both for him and me. But today, we hiked the trail along the Occoquan today to see him row once again. It seems that college couldn't keep him away from the early-cold morning workouts, shouting coxswains, and unisuits. And boy, are we glad. Because without an excuse to be outside, we might not have hiked through thick forest for a view of a sparkling river. The wind would surely have kept us inside for mundane tasks like laundry and grocery shopping. Memories of pushing our youngest up and down the treacherous dirt path brought us relief to see the same boy running up ahead, now five. Our middle son was definitely less put upon this time, too. Maybe because he wonders if he might row sometime soon. Plus, we saw our college kiddo gliding by in perfect accord with his team. It is moments like these, I'd be happy to revisit again and again.

Degrees of Separation

A teacher in our school system died just a couple of days of ago. Every once in a sad while, I've received email messages with "Sad News" in the subject line, but this time I received three in one hour. The truth is that I have never met the woman who passed away, but I'd heard her name countless times. She was the wife of my sons' elementary school principal, and because of the husband and wife's experience in the county, just about everyone I've met in Arlington has worked with one or the other in some capacity. They'd beat Kevin Bacon in two turns if they ever had the chance. 

Here are some, but not all, of the connections: She met her husband at the school where I teach. Her husband was an English teacher, like me. He taught at the middle school where I once taught and worked, and many of my former colleagues knew him then, and later taught their two sons. Next, he was an AP at the high school my oldest son attended, under the principal that hired me for my first teaching job. For many years, she has been a Special Education where my mother worked--one of my friends' son has spent many hours this year in her classroom. 

I regularly remark on the small town qualities of where we live, but this family brings it up a notch. There are so many who are mourning the loss of her now. Students, parents, colleagues, friends, and family must feel the weight of her good life as they say their good-byes. As an outsider looking in, her departure reminds me that we are all in this together, whether we can map that web or not. Sad news sinks in when we have a connection, but even when we don't, our hearts might open wide just the same.

It's Not Over Yet

Months are a human construct by which I refuse to be controlled. I set out on a writing challenge--turns out I didn't make it close to the 31-day goal--but why must I put down my pen just because the 31st of March has come and gone? And I have only 4 minutes to prove my words sincere. So that's it for today's slice. I'm inclined to post some extra days to make up for the time I lost to hectic schedules and preoccupied thoughts. I have it in me to write more, so I will. That is all.

I Love My Golden Retriever

I think I can buy a bumper sticker with that shout out to the universe. It seems like eons ago that I was not even a dog person. I didn't care much for others' furry companions and I probably glazed over whenever anyone told me their own dog story (unless it involved a pet psychic or dangling a hot dog out of a car to attract a pet on the run, of course). The glaze is now what I see in others' eyes when I try to tell my own tales. I know, it's ridiculous to compare my puppy trials to the twin boys you just brought home from the hospital. I also realize that it's not entertaining to hear about her antics at the dog park. Have I mentioned how popular she is? And that she's a great friend to others?

And it's not just my own that warms my heart. Last week, my son laughed it at me when I sat up in my seat when a taxi driver he mentioned he had two dogs. Instead of checking Instagram for photos of my nieces these days, I scroll to find photos my cousin's golden wearing funny hats and posing as captain of the ship. On our way home from an evening walk, it occurred to me that I know more of the dogs that live on neighboring streets than the homeowners inside. I have officially crossed to the other side.

So indulge me for a moment. Allie's fur is so soft and feathery. Her ears perk up when she hears something special and her brown eyes look into mine when I call her name. When we practice running together, she stays by my side and turns her head toward me every few beats for assurance that she's doing the right thing, which she is. She greets each member of the family by leaning in to our legs in a way that says, pet me and give me hugs because I missed you while you were gone. There are some stories of her dark side, I can't deny it. She might look like an angel, but she has a criminal side to her that she might not even outgrow--one that involves stealing dish towels off the table and the time she got swallowed the last piece of pizza in one bit. But it's no fun to love perfection, and love her, I do.

You Can Take It With You

In an exercise that asks students to imagine themselves in Anne Frank's shoes today, I asked them to make a packing list if they learned they would go have to go into hiding. This question, in contrast to the dark facts of the Holocaust that we discussed yesterday, brought a lightness and sense of relief to the group. No, I can't imagine myself or anyone I know enduring the immense suffering that occurred, but yes, I can identify which of my material belongings would bring me comfort in a time of trouble.

I loved hearing the range of ideas that ranged from entertainment to sentimental tokens, plus some attempt at self-defense and industry. I listened to their lists and offered comparative notes about Anne's choices. Many wanted to bring their pets. Anne's parents refused her cat, causing in some initial sting when Peter walked in with his own. Cell phones are too traceable by the government, not unlike the risk Anne's roommate, Mr. Pfeffer, took when writing to his beloved fiancé waiting for him outside the Annex. My heart was warmed to hear of kids who would bring as many books and writing paper as they could fit in their bags. Musical instruments, programming materials, but also mementos and photos to rind them of their lives left behind. Beef jerky, oddly enough, was on at least two lists, and chocolate, perhaps for its healing properties after contact with dementors, or whatever soul-sucking force they might encounter.

Fortunately, my students will live lives of freedom, free to enter and exit their own homes as they please. These survival bags will never be packed, thank god. Still, their imaginations reveal what they value. I wonder how these lists may change by the time we finish this profound unit. In a way, I hope they don't.

Can we do this again sometime?

Our weekly trip to the library hasn't worked out because one of my reading buddies just fell asleep in the car on the way. So while the older brother headed into our local getaway, a respite from the hustle and bustle, no charge for admission, I'm with my napper in the parking lot. The windows are open and between sunshine and some shade of pink blossomed branches, we're in a nice spot. At first, I thought I'd reach into my bag fornanfew papers to grade. I was momentarily tempted to reply to a couple emails. But chirping birds and a light breeze, I've become content with my momentary freedom. How nice to exercise my freedom to write.

My weekly schedules have varied over the years. After school hours have long included treking to the riverside or ice rink, soccer field or tennis court. Each stop has offered its own set of advantages and challenges. It's been a long time since an afternoon snooze has worked itself in, though. This is an activity I could get used to.

Duty Calls

Feeling energized and alert after a real holiday, I gave myself a pat on the back as I sauntered into school with several minutes to spare. My mental list was growing of tasks I could accomplish before students arrived. I'd catch up on copying, send a couple of emails, or maybe I'd disinfect my desks in the spirit of Project Recovery. Too bad it had slipped my mind that this was my week to stand guard at the foot of the stairs to prevent scalliwags from dodging the rules and hitting their lockers before the bell rang it's approval. Too bad my luxurious 20 minutes would be spent watching innocent students wait patiently for the gates to open. Yet at the same time, it's quite good that chose this morning to arrive in on time. Fingers crossed that I can keep this energy a few morning more. even better if I can carry it to next week when I'll have another chance at uninterrupted work at my desk once again.

Sticky Note Reminder

Please be assured that we began the day in full-force Easter mode. I opened my eyes to big news that the bunny had already delivered the goods! Then despite grey skies, we enjoyed a celebratory service with bright story-telling, shiny music, and pastel eggs that bloomed like tulips. (For posterity's sake, in response to the homily my middle son said, "Wow.") And the rest of the day has been quiet. Our planned visit with our oldest was cut short due to a glitch in his ride back to school, but we fit in a walk with the dog. Where is the rest of clan? They have steered clear for fear of catching what we had. Are we still contagious? Probably not at this point, but we didn't insist. Now we are grateful.

On this night before we return to school, it is a holiday, but we're already winding down (delicious dinner, cooked on an open fire, no place mat in sight), and this peaceful evening is everything I need for true renewal. My sincere love for family--parents, siblings, in-laws, cousins--is part of my identity. However, Rob and I hereby pledge to remember this moment and no longer accept invitations to travel, socialize, eat, drink, and be merry, on any night that precedes a six o'clock alarm, or um, earlier. 

Is there a setting that allows me to send this post to me at key points of the year? If so, please let me know. I will surely need a reminder.

In Summary

I made a decision to leave the laptop and tablet at home when we packed for our Miami trip last week. Travel light: Advice from many a seasoned tourist that I took to heart this time. My phone would keep me sufficiently connected, and it did to a point, but alas, I did not use it to capture glimpses of my days away.  Here's my attempt to do so now:

1. Birthday beach-side dinner with people I love
2. Good-luck-kissing a sea cucumber and miles of walking the length of Key Biscayne
3. Gelato scoops with peaks as tall as a mountain--strawberry and coconut
4. Crying in the middle of the night--shoot, it's the stomach bug--but not my kiddo (yet)
5. Windy day on the beach to make sand castles, read, laugh with my sons, basically all of the things I dream of doing when I am not on vacation.
6. Road-trip to get more people that I love all together in one place--cousins and smiles bring me unending joy.
7. Crying in the middle of the night--this time, the bug got my sister, so I took the baby--I remembered the joys and pains of rocking an unsettled little one. My tiny niece and me, we bonded.
8. Last night in Paradise, we were determined to enjoy it. Outdoor patio dinner, toy store, and gelato mountain tops. 
9. Last night, cont'd, and this time the bug got my kiddo. What a trooper, but...who...is...next?
10. Home when the bug got me. Thank God for my own bed.

The stomach virus threatened to ruin the trip, but I can't ignore that spring break provided much fun in the sun. We wore flip-flops, hunted Easter eggs, ate delicious food, and celebrated time with some of my favorite people. I finished a book, too, that I will remember forever. My suitcase was lighter without the weight of extra devices, but my heart was full every day of this trip. 

Give Me a Break

I knew I was tired at the beginning of the week, but jeez. Daylight savings + lots to do = total resistance to my own alarm clock. Two days in a row I've overslept, and neither time was it at all convenient. And by that, I mean that I had SOL testing first thing that first morning. Tardiness is not appreciated on days like these. So what did I do when my eyes opened on my sunlit bedroom at 7:10 AM? I jumped from the bed and made quick stops in my bathroom and closet before I ran across the field straight to my classroom. Sure, I probably looked a little disheveled, but I doubt that anyone is paying attention anyway. I feel certain my absence would have garnered more attention than my mascara-free eyes.

The second time it happened, I phoned it in. A lady needs to shower, after all. And coffee. A lady needs coffee. Thankfully, there was not a single meeting, STAR party, or test session that was dependent on my presence. I took a civilized shower and made my children proper lunches in their Thermoses. I walked, no running involved, to the front door of my classroom.

Tomorrow is a new day. After two days of some extra sleep, I do hope to make it out the door on time. Either way, I know for sure that this vacation could not come fast enough, no alarm clock required.

Anne

My team and I spent time planning out our "Profiles of Courage" unit that we'll begin after spring break. It centers around Diary of a Young Girl, a text I've taught for the past couple of years, but in order to avoid shifting to cruise control on familiar lessons, I'm listening to an audio version of the work. This Definitive Version is narrated by Selma Blair with the gravelly voice of an honest adolescent, and I'm already hooked by Anne's tone that shows her catty, lonesome, confident, spunky self. She is a sister, a daughter, a student, and a friend. Familiar entries of her birthday party, ping-pong, or the flirty boys she expertly alludes by swerving her bicycle make her as real as any girl or boy in my class this year. And that is just what makes this piece one of the most powerful of the year.

Brown Bagging It

I've been a mother for almost 19 years, which means I've been making school lunches for quite a while now. In an attempt to correct the wrongs of my own parents, I thought I was a cool mom for buying soft bread and for spreading peanut butter and jelly all the way to the edges instead of the disproportioned lumps my dad would plant in odd corners that would make chewing my own sandwiches impossible without a steady stream of chocolate milk, not that I ever had such a treat. The thought of those dry moments of desperation at the lunch table--Michelle sat across from me with Wonder Bread clouds on which crisp lettuce and seasoned cold cuts would rest. Victoria was by my side, but not on my side, placing  Doritos in her own sandwich, not that her Fluffernutter needed any enhancements. My family thought zip-loc bags an extravagance, so a bruised, mealy apple was my dessert. So when I've thrown packaged granola bars and fruit snacks in the bag, I assumed I was giving my kids a lunch status that I knew I would never achieve. It turns out that I've only been doling out the 21st century version of the frugal hippy. My three boys have lived with bagged lunch shame for years, and I didn't even know it. God knows how many crusts and unopened snacks have made their way to a trash heap. My husband have offered wads of cash and a match occasionally to make our point, but...

This is all to say that I'm trying now, made possible by my recent Thermos purchase. Two of three boys still get packed lunches, but I haven't bagged a sandwich on days. I happily warm Mac and cheese, pesto pasta, and tomato soup in the morning. Most days, they eat it--nice bonus! Lucky kids these days. What's next? A nice cheese and charcuterie board? Croque Monsieur? Kids. Funny part is, they need to eat every single day. I guess it's good news that they have good taste.

Flip Flop Friday

My to-do list is long today for both household chores and work ducks that I need to get in a row. The next four days are booked with meetings, invigilating, and teaching, not to mention the house ducklings that need to keep quacking. But first thing on Friday, we'll be headed to sunny Florida. Sisters and cousins will reunite, and so will my toes with the sunshine and sand. Knowing this, I can muster the strength "to-do" this.

Brain Games

For Writing SOL season, I've been slowing down instead of speeding up. There's always a level of intensity when it comes to standardized testing, but I've been mindful of keeping a balance of practice and fun. Yay for play in a plan for a Grammar Olympics unit that actually worked. I set up conditioning/exercise stations that got students practicing skills AND checking in with me for one-on-one talks about spelling rules and pronoun-antecedent agreement. I, for one, had loads of fun with these training sessions. Who doesn't love to see a spark ignite when explaining why it's not always acceptable to drop the silent e for suffixes that begin with a vowel? The ultimate closure to the unit was a day comprised of multiple events, a competition for fabulous prizes, that required students to work together on grammatical accuracy. I observed both admirable team work and deplorable rivalry, but in the end, there were more smiles than frowns...and the joy I feel when a student finally understand semi-colons is irreplaceable. I let the games begin. My gut tells me I shouldn't ever let them end.

The Gang's All Here

We call it Wacky Wednesday in an attempt to paint the day in a brighter light for the little one. Since kindergarten began, he has made it clear that he does NOT like extended day. "It's too long," he claims, even though his cumulative time at school on Wednesdays is actually shorter than most days he spent at day care One time, I brought Swedish fish. Another time, we headed straight to the library for a holiday event. But the Wacky Wednesday routine we've settled on is to put the puppy in the car to greet him after his "very long day". This time, not only was Allie sitting proudly in his booster seat, but his big brother from college was in the driver seat and the middle one was there ready with a snack.

All three boys and their dog, I had them all to myself this afternoon. We stopped at the dog park--people are funny and dogs are funny, but put them together, now that's entertainment. Next, we taste-tested frozen yogurt that wasn't so different from a bottle of sunscreen, but who's complaining? We threw in some errands, too, and somehow I didn't feel like I was racing a clock to get everything done. This Wacky Wednesday wasn't just good for the littlest brother, but it sure seemed to work for us all.

Holiday Lights

When I walk across the field from my school to my home in the evening, as I did tonight, I leave behind the fluorescent light of a public building that is sometimes stingy with its love. I enter a brief darkness that is both comforting and scary. First, I enjoy the solitude that this stretch of unilluminated grass brings. It is a peaceful moment that highlights the value of soil underfoot and stars overhead. Then I have a healthy fear of the potential for wildlife. Okay, in suburban DC, how bad can that me? Unless one is as skittish about a raccoon, an opossum, or even as a rat as I am (because rodents of any size, with their beady little eyes, rattle my nerves). Still, this small boost of adrenalin prevents me from lingering in the middle ground where I am neither at work or at home. One step closer, and I see a string of lights draped across our back porch. The back door is open--thank you, 70-degree weather--and our kitchen glows even warmer. Inside is dinner, sleeping child, studying child, and a husband making finishing touches on the dishes. Let the celebration of home begin.

Floppy Ears and Fresh Air

My pup is growing up. It wasn't so long ago that she was a little sausage, a butterball, a dumpling. Now her legs stretch long and she can run at a gallop. Last time I posted, I was lamenting my own sketchy running pace, and it's a fact that getting a dog only interfered with any progress I had made since then. But now that my girl seems akin to a gazelle, we are picking up our speed. Warm weather means I can drop my snow boots in favor of sneakers. She and I can trot on down the trail, side by side, and the exercise clears both of our minds and makes both of our hearts beat. It's only once in a while that she sees a squirrel. Squirrels are pretty exciting and very distracting, by the way. And she'd rather us not run the whole time because there is a lot of fascinating stuff to sniff in the grass. Good news: A puppy's idea of a jog is a great match for mine these days. She is just my speed.