Sheesh. It's already 2nd quarter...
You know, I don't actually want to talk about that. It's scary. Where has the time gone?! I'm going to embrace denial and move on to something else.
So today I had some high school students visit me since they had the day off for parent-teacher conferences. It's fun to see them again. I had those kids for two years, and we spent a lot of time and notebook paper together. Many of them tell me about how their high school teachers make them use all the skills and concepts we talked about in 7th and 8th grade. This is what I spent so much time working toward! My mission for my 8th graders was to truly have them ready for high school. Now I'm back in 7th grade, and I have a whole new group of students to prepare. It's good for me to get a reminder via my high school visitors of what I'm working toward with my kids.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Rapping About the Equator
The creative projects were a huge success! (Please refer to my previous post if you don't know what I'm talking about.) There were some posters, some skits, a handful of dioramas (what a fun word), two painted styrofoam models, and some rap performances. I now know who the most talented beat-boxer is in my classes... as well as which students would rather draw a picture and which are willing to risk embarrassing themselves in the name of geography. The funniest performance was a rap performed by three boys in hoodies who even worked out choreography for their song. It was catchy, too. This past week (many days after their performance), the chorus line "Equator... goes around the wor-ld" could be heard in our locker pod from someone singing to themselves. I was also amused by the girl whose parents don't like rap and told her that she could only SAY the words to the song, but she was not allowed to say them with any rhythm. (I was happy to let them draw a poster or something else conservative, but they really wanted to do the rap song.) Midway through her verse, she caught herself bobbing her head in time to the beat and had to stop herself suddenly. She looked quite guilty. I'll be interested to meet her parents when parent-teacher conferences roll around.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Dancing About Geography
(This reminds me of a favorite movie quote from Playing By Heart: "Talking about love is like dancing about architecture.")
I had some fun with this one. My kids have this big all-district writing assessment coming up next week, and due to the two days of inservice this week, they were going to end up with two straight weeks of language arts and no social studies. So I decided to use the 3 days this week to work through some geography terms and definitions. We took notes today, and then I assigned them each to come up with a creative representation for one of the terms. First, though, we had to talk about what a "creative representation" is. It's a funny thing to talk about with seventh graders... They got the obvious ones, of course, like making up a skit or drawing a picture, but they had a harder time coming up with others. I loved watching their faces when they suggested something they thought was wild and out of the realm of possibility... and then their shock when I said yes to their answers. "A song?" "Yes!" "A rap?" "Yes!" "A poem?" "Yes!" "A poster?" "A sketch?" "A story?" "Yes, yes, yes!" And so they began to plan. They schemed and talked and practiced and drew and generally had a great time figuring out how to teach their classmates to remember their chosen geography terms. I'm so excited to see the results later this week. My favorite answer was an interpretive dance. I really hope someone decides to do a dance interpretation of the Prime Meridian...
I had some fun with this one. My kids have this big all-district writing assessment coming up next week, and due to the two days of inservice this week, they were going to end up with two straight weeks of language arts and no social studies. So I decided to use the 3 days this week to work through some geography terms and definitions. We took notes today, and then I assigned them each to come up with a creative representation for one of the terms. First, though, we had to talk about what a "creative representation" is. It's a funny thing to talk about with seventh graders... They got the obvious ones, of course, like making up a skit or drawing a picture, but they had a harder time coming up with others. I loved watching their faces when they suggested something they thought was wild and out of the realm of possibility... and then their shock when I said yes to their answers. "A song?" "Yes!" "A rap?" "Yes!" "A poem?" "Yes!" "A poster?" "A sketch?" "A story?" "Yes, yes, yes!" And so they began to plan. They schemed and talked and practiced and drew and generally had a great time figuring out how to teach their classmates to remember their chosen geography terms. I'm so excited to see the results later this week. My favorite answer was an interpretive dance. I really hope someone decides to do a dance interpretation of the Prime Meridian...
Sunday, October 9, 2011
October? Really?
This is nuts. I have no idea what happened to September... Some days I feel like I'm a cross between a detective and an amnesia patient, and I must struggle to put together the pieces of my life from the evidence littering my desk. I'm already down one package of index cards, so there's obviously been some public speaking. I can tell from my gradebook that there have been a lot of writing assignments, and that I obviously taught my kids the reading codes. There are student-created posters on the walls that speak to some geography lessons, as do the stack of surprisingly fabulous student-colored-and-labeled world maps on the back table.
I could cheat and look through my calendar and lesson plan book, but I'd get overwhelmed by all the meetings. Then there are the fire drills (2 so far), the lock-down drill (1 so far), the lock-in that was NOT a drill (1 so far), picture day, assembly day, and 2 early release days that ended with 2-hour staff meetings.
Or I could just look out the window and watch the trees change colors and the sky darken and the rain and wind bluster outside.
Or I could go grade papers and worry about it some other day. I should probably do that.
I could cheat and look through my calendar and lesson plan book, but I'd get overwhelmed by all the meetings. Then there are the fire drills (2 so far), the lock-down drill (1 so far), the lock-in that was NOT a drill (1 so far), picture day, assembly day, and 2 early release days that ended with 2-hour staff meetings.
Or I could just look out the window and watch the trees change colors and the sky darken and the rain and wind bluster outside.
Or I could go grade papers and worry about it some other day. I should probably do that.
Friday, September 9, 2011
FIRST WEEK OF SCHOOL
Wow. I… um… That is... just WOW.
This was the first week of school. I can’t really come up with the right words to explain this week, so I’m limited simply to… WOW.
(This reminds me of a funny part in White Christmas when Bob Wallace asks one of his staff how much his big ideas are going to cost and then reacts to the total with “Wow.” When Phil Davis asks, “How much is ‘wow’?” Bob explains by saying, “Somewhere between ‘ouch’ and ‘boinnnngggg.’ And all Phil can say in response is ‘WOW.’ ”)
Anyhoo… first week of school, right. This year I’m back in seventh grade, and oh my, are they ever young. Many of them haven’t had their middle school growth spurts yet, so they’re shorter than the practically-high-schoolers that I had become accustomed to last year. They’re small and nervous, which has its advantages. They’re so concerned with getting their lockers open that they don’t have time yet for goofing off. And they haven’t yet been flooded with the eighth grade hormones that cause 13- and 14-year-olds to turn into living, breathing blobs of gelatinous, romantic infatuation. (Hall duty takes on a whole new, nauseating perspective when you’re surrounded by teenage inappropriateness, let me tell you.) Yeah, I do not miss that. The down side to a whole new crop of seventh graders is that I have to go through all the work of training them. I was kind of spoiled last year: eighth graders have been through all that; they already know the rules and are used to following them.
My new students seem to be fairly nice kids, but there are just SO MANY of them. My classes are currently at 37, 39, and 33. The class of 33 isn’t bad; last year all three of my classes were 33 to 35. But 37 and 39? I have exactly 39 desks now, and – just my luck – not a single student in that class has been absent. I had to bug our really patient custodians for extra desks on Tuesday so that I would have enough seats for my kids on Wednesday. I have no idea where the desks came from – some mysterious other room in the building, I guess. I’m lucky to have gotten them when I did; there’s now a shortage of desks, tables, and chairs throughout the building. (I heard that one teacher plundered the conference room just to have enough chairs for his students.) It’s CRAZY. There are moments when I pause in the middle of whatever I’ve been saying to them, and I happen to look around the room and see them all sitting there, staring at me, and it will hit me again –– there’s SO MANY of them. We went to the library today, and there were so many students in my class that when I walked out the door after them, the first students in line had already reached the doors of the library.
One day this week, a sweet girl who got confused about her schedule accidentally showed up in my 3rd period class (instead of my 5th period, which she’s assigned to). There were 40 students in my room – and only 39 chairs. It’s a good thing I recognized her so quickly and figured out that she was in the wrong class… because I could definitely feel a panic attack coming on. One of my boys was standing in the back, and he looked around at all of the occupied chairs, and then turned to me with a confused, slightly forlorn look in his eyes, and my heart started racing, and my hands started shaking, and I swear he eyed my desk chair, MY chair, just for a second, and then I spotted the girl-out-of-place… fortunately.
I think things have gone well so far, and the kids have responded well to anything I’ve asked of them. But when I try to figure out how to describe my week, all I can think about is how many of them there were… (Also, how on earth will I ever learn all of their names??!!!) So I’m going to give up and just say that my week was… wow. I’m going to take a nap.
This was the first week of school. I can’t really come up with the right words to explain this week, so I’m limited simply to… WOW.
(This reminds me of a funny part in White Christmas when Bob Wallace asks one of his staff how much his big ideas are going to cost and then reacts to the total with “Wow.” When Phil Davis asks, “How much is ‘wow’?” Bob explains by saying, “Somewhere between ‘ouch’ and ‘boinnnngggg.’ And all Phil can say in response is ‘WOW.’ ”)
Anyhoo… first week of school, right. This year I’m back in seventh grade, and oh my, are they ever young. Many of them haven’t had their middle school growth spurts yet, so they’re shorter than the practically-high-schoolers that I had become accustomed to last year. They’re small and nervous, which has its advantages. They’re so concerned with getting their lockers open that they don’t have time yet for goofing off. And they haven’t yet been flooded with the eighth grade hormones that cause 13- and 14-year-olds to turn into living, breathing blobs of gelatinous, romantic infatuation. (Hall duty takes on a whole new, nauseating perspective when you’re surrounded by teenage inappropriateness, let me tell you.) Yeah, I do not miss that. The down side to a whole new crop of seventh graders is that I have to go through all the work of training them. I was kind of spoiled last year: eighth graders have been through all that; they already know the rules and are used to following them.
My new students seem to be fairly nice kids, but there are just SO MANY of them. My classes are currently at 37, 39, and 33. The class of 33 isn’t bad; last year all three of my classes were 33 to 35. But 37 and 39? I have exactly 39 desks now, and – just my luck – not a single student in that class has been absent. I had to bug our really patient custodians for extra desks on Tuesday so that I would have enough seats for my kids on Wednesday. I have no idea where the desks came from – some mysterious other room in the building, I guess. I’m lucky to have gotten them when I did; there’s now a shortage of desks, tables, and chairs throughout the building. (I heard that one teacher plundered the conference room just to have enough chairs for his students.) It’s CRAZY. There are moments when I pause in the middle of whatever I’ve been saying to them, and I happen to look around the room and see them all sitting there, staring at me, and it will hit me again –– there’s SO MANY of them. We went to the library today, and there were so many students in my class that when I walked out the door after them, the first students in line had already reached the doors of the library.
One day this week, a sweet girl who got confused about her schedule accidentally showed up in my 3rd period class (instead of my 5th period, which she’s assigned to). There were 40 students in my room – and only 39 chairs. It’s a good thing I recognized her so quickly and figured out that she was in the wrong class… because I could definitely feel a panic attack coming on. One of my boys was standing in the back, and he looked around at all of the occupied chairs, and then turned to me with a confused, slightly forlorn look in his eyes, and my heart started racing, and my hands started shaking, and I swear he eyed my desk chair, MY chair, just for a second, and then I spotted the girl-out-of-place… fortunately.
I think things have gone well so far, and the kids have responded well to anything I’ve asked of them. But when I try to figure out how to describe my week, all I can think about is how many of them there were… (Also, how on earth will I ever learn all of their names??!!!) So I’m going to give up and just say that my week was… wow. I’m going to take a nap.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Isn't That the Boy Scouts?
A teacher should always be prepared. Preparation is a funny thing, when you think about it. This week was our prep week for teachers -- oddly filled with more meetings than prep. Oh, so many meetings... But I digress.
I read an article this week called "What Makes a Great Teacher" in which the author was saying a well-prepared teacher with a clear objective and a thoughtful plan for how to accomplish that objective is more effective in the classroom than one who has a dynamic personality or entertaining delivery. At the same time, effective teachers can't be tied to their plans if the students are "getting it." They have to be ready to alter the lesson to meet the needs of students at lots of different levels. This is stressful -- have a plan, but be willing to scrap it, so have another plan ready for that... A compulsive planner could easily go overboard with the back-up plans. I think the best approach is to be well-prepared (yes, with a comprehensive and thoughtful plan), but to accept that you can't think of everything. At any rate, this theory appeals to me because I am well planned. I tell my students this, actually. I tell them, "I ALWAYS HAVE A PLAN." And they know that it's true.
Then there are the students... A very kind 6th grade teacher-friend of mine is going to have a student in her class this year who has been labeled "The Puker" by the specialists at our school. Apparently, whenever he's feeling too anxious, he vomits. Also, when he's upset, he vomits. Oh, and when he's frustrated and wants to get out of class, he vomits. On demand. Fortunately, she knows about it ahead of time and can formulate a plan. Two years ago, one of my nicest boys got sick and threw up in front of the entire class in the middle of the state writing test. I admit, I did not have a plan ready for that.
So we're all supposed to be getting ready for school to start, which, I assume, means lesson plans and copies and seating charts and whatnot, but which, in reality, involves more poster-hanging and file-purging and cabinet-gutting. It's like every teacher needs to start the year with a clean classroom. (Or maybe it's just me. I'm a freak. I couldn't even THINK about lesson plans until I had the boxes unpacked and the chairs pushed in neatly at all the desks.) And whatever planning and preparation you manage to get done will probably be interrupted by all of the people you haven't seen in two months -- welcome interruptions, but interruptions just the same.
Occasionally, you end up down in the office to get something or give something or... something. It's nice to get out of the classroom once in a while, of course, but an educational application of Murphy's Law seems to be that you will only be able to remember to get one thing from the office at a time. And each time, you'll get back to your classroom and realize you needed something else.
Then there's the agony of hanging posters without a laser level. (Is that a thing? I need a laser level!) And it's not just posters. My teaching partner lined up his desks using string -- just to make sure they were all perfectly aligned. And don't even get me started on writing things on the chalkboard or whiteboard -- it would be easier to convince my bunch of pre-teens that a line of writing SHOULD angle down like that.
Yikes, this post is scattered. (HA! That was my plan all along! It's an example for you of how my workday went today.)
I read an article this week called "What Makes a Great Teacher" in which the author was saying a well-prepared teacher with a clear objective and a thoughtful plan for how to accomplish that objective is more effective in the classroom than one who has a dynamic personality or entertaining delivery. At the same time, effective teachers can't be tied to their plans if the students are "getting it." They have to be ready to alter the lesson to meet the needs of students at lots of different levels. This is stressful -- have a plan, but be willing to scrap it, so have another plan ready for that... A compulsive planner could easily go overboard with the back-up plans. I think the best approach is to be well-prepared (yes, with a comprehensive and thoughtful plan), but to accept that you can't think of everything. At any rate, this theory appeals to me because I am well planned. I tell my students this, actually. I tell them, "I ALWAYS HAVE A PLAN." And they know that it's true.
Then there are the students... A very kind 6th grade teacher-friend of mine is going to have a student in her class this year who has been labeled "The Puker" by the specialists at our school. Apparently, whenever he's feeling too anxious, he vomits. Also, when he's upset, he vomits. Oh, and when he's frustrated and wants to get out of class, he vomits. On demand. Fortunately, she knows about it ahead of time and can formulate a plan. Two years ago, one of my nicest boys got sick and threw up in front of the entire class in the middle of the state writing test. I admit, I did not have a plan ready for that.
So we're all supposed to be getting ready for school to start, which, I assume, means lesson plans and copies and seating charts and whatnot, but which, in reality, involves more poster-hanging and file-purging and cabinet-gutting. It's like every teacher needs to start the year with a clean classroom. (Or maybe it's just me. I'm a freak. I couldn't even THINK about lesson plans until I had the boxes unpacked and the chairs pushed in neatly at all the desks.) And whatever planning and preparation you manage to get done will probably be interrupted by all of the people you haven't seen in two months -- welcome interruptions, but interruptions just the same.
Occasionally, you end up down in the office to get something or give something or... something. It's nice to get out of the classroom once in a while, of course, but an educational application of Murphy's Law seems to be that you will only be able to remember to get one thing from the office at a time. And each time, you'll get back to your classroom and realize you needed something else.
Then there's the agony of hanging posters without a laser level. (Is that a thing? I need a laser level!) And it's not just posters. My teaching partner lined up his desks using string -- just to make sure they were all perfectly aligned. And don't even get me started on writing things on the chalkboard or whiteboard -- it would be easier to convince my bunch of pre-teens that a line of writing SHOULD angle down like that.
Yikes, this post is scattered. (HA! That was my plan all along! It's an example for you of how my workday went today.)
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Harvest Friends
They plowed the field that I drive past every day on my way to work. It's an odd field -- well, two fields, actually, separated by a lovely line of trees. The fields are odd because they're right in the center of the suburbiest suburbs you've ever seen. (Yes, suburbiest. It's a word. Shut up.) I admire the farmer who owns those fields. I don't know him, but I have a lot of respect for him. He didn't sell out when the rest of the Gresham/Troutdale landowners sold off their berry fields to developers so that we suburbanites could have our Safeway and our Jamba Juice. (Good job, Unknown Farmer. Fight the suburbs.)
Anyway, they plowed the fields. The bad news is that the fields are far uglier plowed than when they are green with young wheat in May or even waving and golden in July. The good news is that the geese are back! I estimated about 100 geese in each of the two fields, basking in the sun. (Do geese bask? I really think they were basking.)
The really REALLY bad news is that I'm seeing them on my way to school every morning. Dude. So much for my summer...
Anyway, they plowed the fields. The bad news is that the fields are far uglier plowed than when they are green with young wheat in May or even waving and golden in July. The good news is that the geese are back! I estimated about 100 geese in each of the two fields, basking in the sun. (Do geese bask? I really think they were basking.)
The really REALLY bad news is that I'm seeing them on my way to school every morning. Dude. So much for my summer...
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Daily Dose of Random
So I was sitting on the patio outside the Starbucks at Gresham Station last week with the woman who is probably my oldest friend in the world. I met her in 6th grade when I started at a new school in a new town and accidentally splashed cucumber juice on her when she turned around to talk to me at lunch time. Amazingly (and extremely quickly, given the circumstances of our meeting), she decided I was worth being friends with, and we still are. She lives in another state now, but she was in town for several days and wanted to get together. After dinner, we moved on to Starbucks for decaffeinated beverages and hours of chatting. We sat there for about 4 hours total, but this particular story of randomness begins around 10:30 p.m. The patio was somewhat lit by streetlights, but the Starbucks had closed for the evening. There were approximately 10 other people sitting around at the other tables, all of us minding our own business. Suddenly, two young men on bicycles rode up and began to talk to us. They looked late-high-school or early-college in age, and I don't remember how they were dressed. One of them went around to several of the tables asking patrons if they had any bracelets they would donate to him. The other began asking people if he could take their picture. After a hurried conversation about lack of time, the two young men requested that everyone on the patio stand together for one group photo. They said they were involved in some sort of quest or scavenger hunt and that they had to get photos of as many people as possible. So, the 12-ish of us on the patio grouped together, laughing with each other, and allowed our picture to be taken. As he took the picture with his phone, one young man said, "Smile! My parents think I'm asleep in my bed!" Then they jumped on their bikes and rode off into the night.
(Random rating: Crazier than usual, but not quite as odd as street ninjas.)
(Random rating: Crazier than usual, but not quite as odd as street ninjas.)
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The Final Chapter
In May, my best friend Army Girl and I decided to go back and watch all of the Fast and the Furious movies before going to watch the fifth movie in the theater. We had a lot of fun working through this series; we took about two weeks to find enough evenings (3) when we were both free to work on our movie marathon. Then we finished the marathon off by going to watch Fast Five in the theater.
After accomplishing the 5-film marathon in May, we were ready to tackle something far more challenging (but far more worthwhile!!!): The Harry Potter film series. You have to understand that Army Girl and I started watching the movies together when the very first film came out back in November of 2001. We had both managed to read books 1 - 4 for the first time that fall (there were only 4 books at that time). I remember watching the movie and thinking, "Holy crap, that's EXACTLY HOW I PICTURED IT when I read the book!" (which is rather amazing, if you consider how far most movies stray from their book roots). We've each read every book and watched every movie as they were released, with two minor exceptions (neither of us managed to watch the 6th and 7th movies). I even managed to re-read every book in the series each time a new book came out. Unfortunately, that meant I had only read the 7th book once, so I went back and read it in the first two weeks of July. (It was just as good the second time, and slightly easier to follow.)
So Army Girl and I worked through all seven of the Harry Potter movies on DVD. It took us about three weeks to find enough free evenings, but we finished last Saturday. On Sunday, we went together to see the last movie in the theater. It was fabulous, and provided a well-done ending to the series. Yes, in all of the movies, there were many many many many MANY things left out... (Hey, you'd have trouble condensing a 700-page book into 2 hours too.) But mostly, the film versions did an excellent job conveying the stories on screen. *happy sigh*
One brief note of dissatisfaction: at the end of the book, there is an epilogue that involves 36-year-old Harry Potter seeing his kids off on the Hogwarts train. Unfortunately, in the movie version of this epilogue, both Ron and Harry ended up looking far less attractive (like paunchy, somewhat creepy 45-year-olds). Depressing... I prefer to believe that Harry and Ron remained handsome and charming throughout their lives. ...sort of like Neville, who appeared to be played by a 30-year-old man in the movie.
This brings me to the compliment that I would like to pay to the most brilliant person associated with the Harry Potter movies: Fiona Weir. Fiona Weir is the really smart casting director who kept all of the same actors for all eight movies. Yes, Neville looked 30, and yes, people talked about how old the supposedly 17-year-old stars were while filming. But for the sake of HP fans everywhere, I think she made an important and genius decision by keeping the cast the same. The characters don't change in the books, so reader-fans were more devoted to the films because the actors didn't change. Thank you, and kudos, Fiona. You're my hero.
After accomplishing the 5-film marathon in May, we were ready to tackle something far more challenging (but far more worthwhile!!!): The Harry Potter film series. You have to understand that Army Girl and I started watching the movies together when the very first film came out back in November of 2001. We had both managed to read books 1 - 4 for the first time that fall (there were only 4 books at that time). I remember watching the movie and thinking, "Holy crap, that's EXACTLY HOW I PICTURED IT when I read the book!" (which is rather amazing, if you consider how far most movies stray from their book roots). We've each read every book and watched every movie as they were released, with two minor exceptions (neither of us managed to watch the 6th and 7th movies). I even managed to re-read every book in the series each time a new book came out. Unfortunately, that meant I had only read the 7th book once, so I went back and read it in the first two weeks of July. (It was just as good the second time, and slightly easier to follow.)
So Army Girl and I worked through all seven of the Harry Potter movies on DVD. It took us about three weeks to find enough free evenings, but we finished last Saturday. On Sunday, we went together to see the last movie in the theater. It was fabulous, and provided a well-done ending to the series. Yes, in all of the movies, there were many many many many MANY things left out... (Hey, you'd have trouble condensing a 700-page book into 2 hours too.) But mostly, the film versions did an excellent job conveying the stories on screen. *happy sigh*
One brief note of dissatisfaction: at the end of the book, there is an epilogue that involves 36-year-old Harry Potter seeing his kids off on the Hogwarts train. Unfortunately, in the movie version of this epilogue, both Ron and Harry ended up looking far less attractive (like paunchy, somewhat creepy 45-year-olds). Depressing... I prefer to believe that Harry and Ron remained handsome and charming throughout their lives. ...sort of like Neville, who appeared to be played by a 30-year-old man in the movie.
This brings me to the compliment that I would like to pay to the most brilliant person associated with the Harry Potter movies: Fiona Weir. Fiona Weir is the really smart casting director who kept all of the same actors for all eight movies. Yes, Neville looked 30, and yes, people talked about how old the supposedly 17-year-old stars were while filming. But for the sake of HP fans everywhere, I think she made an important and genius decision by keeping the cast the same. The characters don't change in the books, so reader-fans were more devoted to the films because the actors didn't change. Thank you, and kudos, Fiona. You're my hero.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Don't Rain on My Parade
We've worked the Troutdale day camps for eight years now, and we've managed to escape rain on our annual "Summerfest" parade day for seven of them. I do remember two parade mornings that drizzled just a bit, but ultimately the rain held off in both cases. Admittedly, we usually only have to worry about Saturday rain during parade week because we're always horribly far behind on constructing the floats that carry our campers. We spent early mornings and late evenings all week working on various parts of the floats, and on the night before the parade, we would work until dark trying to put everything together.
This year, for various reasons (not all of them discernible), we managed not to spend any extra time working on the floats. We planned carefully and worked a little bit every day, and by Friday, we were ready to build both floats. Our campers helped us staple and glue everything on, and before lunchtime, the rickety old trailers from the Parks Department had been transformed into a cars-and-trucks exhibition and a planes-and-boats display, both bright and colorful and cheery.
We'd been watching the weather forecast carefully all week, and no one could really be sure if we'd end up with rain or shine. Monday's forecast was rain on Friday, sun on Saturday. Tuesday's forecast was rain on Thursday and Sunday, sun on Saturday. By Wednesday, the rain was expected to hit on Saturday. (Try to keep up... here's where it gets confusing.) On Friday, we were supposed to have rain. Instead, it was beautiful and sunny with a cloudless blue sky. This made us question the rain predicted for Saturday. Would it really rain? Would it be sunny like Friday? Would the rain hold off until the afternoon, at least?
It was too risky... So we sent one of our staff to Home Depot to buy painters' plastic drop cloths. Then we draped them over the sides of the floats, covering the pictures. The campers had painted them on cardboard and paper using tempera paint, which is, as the name suggests, temporary (water-soluble). I confess that when I went home Friday night, I never expected it to rain at all... but if it did, the floats would be drippy, soggy messes, and the floats were going to be stored outside all night, so we had to take precautions.
On Saturday morning, when I got up at 6:30 a.m., it was POURING down rain. I figured we would be able to remove the plastic when the rain stopped, but it never actually did stop raining. So we kept the plastic on. Our kids rode down Main Street on plastic-wrapped floats. You could see the pictures nicely through the plastic, and the paint didn't run, so it was obviously a good choice on our part. Several of the by-standers seemed to think it was funny, so I would consider it another successful parade.
This year, for various reasons (not all of them discernible), we managed not to spend any extra time working on the floats. We planned carefully and worked a little bit every day, and by Friday, we were ready to build both floats. Our campers helped us staple and glue everything on, and before lunchtime, the rickety old trailers from the Parks Department had been transformed into a cars-and-trucks exhibition and a planes-and-boats display, both bright and colorful and cheery.
We'd been watching the weather forecast carefully all week, and no one could really be sure if we'd end up with rain or shine. Monday's forecast was rain on Friday, sun on Saturday. Tuesday's forecast was rain on Thursday and Sunday, sun on Saturday. By Wednesday, the rain was expected to hit on Saturday. (Try to keep up... here's where it gets confusing.) On Friday, we were supposed to have rain. Instead, it was beautiful and sunny with a cloudless blue sky. This made us question the rain predicted for Saturday. Would it really rain? Would it be sunny like Friday? Would the rain hold off until the afternoon, at least?
It was too risky... So we sent one of our staff to Home Depot to buy painters' plastic drop cloths. Then we draped them over the sides of the floats, covering the pictures. The campers had painted them on cardboard and paper using tempera paint, which is, as the name suggests, temporary (water-soluble). I confess that when I went home Friday night, I never expected it to rain at all... but if it did, the floats would be drippy, soggy messes, and the floats were going to be stored outside all night, so we had to take precautions.
On Saturday morning, when I got up at 6:30 a.m., it was POURING down rain. I figured we would be able to remove the plastic when the rain stopped, but it never actually did stop raining. So we kept the plastic on. Our kids rode down Main Street on plastic-wrapped floats. You could see the pictures nicely through the plastic, and the paint didn't run, so it was obviously a good choice on our part. Several of the by-standers seemed to think it was funny, so I would consider it another successful parade.
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