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.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
A REAL VACATION! Part 6: Fun Stuff
Only one more post about our vacation, and then I'll return to normal life. I promise. We have this weird knack for finding the strange, especially while on vacation. (For more strange finds, refer to my previous vacation posts.)
This is a picture of Canada. (I took the picture because I like Canada.)
The estate where our cottage was located has a small guardhouse at the end of driveway. Inside the guardhouse is this weird, giant nutcracker statue.
On our last day, as we were leaving the island, we passed this guy. He had decorated his car for the 4th of July parade later that day.
In the forest on the estate where we stayed, we ran into ferns the size of Buicks. I made Mr. Chandler stand next to one of them so that you could see how large it was.
This is the ferry that was docked at the terminal as our ferry approached Anacortes. Notice the puffs of smoke coming out of the ferry? Yeah, that's because OUR boat was supposed to be docking there at that time and the ferry in the picture had to hustle out of the way for us!
On the ferry ride, this huge yacht, owned by someone richer than me (obviously), sailed in front of our ferry. This doesn't seem particularly safe to me, but then, yacht owners probably have their own set of rules. (Maritime Rule #24: The captain with the highest gross personal income has the right of way.)
Several years ago, when we vacationed on Orcas Island, we spotted this field of port-a-potties from the highway as we were traveling home. Sadly, we did not get a picture at that time (partly because we didn't own a camera -- but only partly). This time, we got the picture! In fact, we were engaged in an intense conversation about something serious when we spotted them, and I derailed the discussion completely by shouting, "Port-a-potties! Port-a-potties!!!" (Horribly geeky, I know... but how often do you see something like this?)
This is a barn we passed several times on our way to and from the island, and it is notable because it sparked a discussion about barn fractions. In fact, after taking this picture of the half-barn, we saw three quarters of a barn down the road. (No picture, though.)
Finally, this last one is quite possibly the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life. Midway between the northern harbor and the ferry terminal to the south, the road that connects the two ends of Anacortes travels past a shipyard full of old boats and partial boats. The boundaries of the shipyard were marked out with logs and docks and one very large old cargo ship. Upon closer inspection, we discovered that the cargo ship was being used as a gigantic planter with trees and shrubs growing out of it. It's seriously the most amazing planter I've ever seen. I'm afraid it's too big for my yard...
This is a picture of Canada. (I took the picture because I like Canada.)
The estate where our cottage was located has a small guardhouse at the end of driveway. Inside the guardhouse is this weird, giant nutcracker statue.
On our last day, as we were leaving the island, we passed this guy. He had decorated his car for the 4th of July parade later that day.
In the forest on the estate where we stayed, we ran into ferns the size of Buicks. I made Mr. Chandler stand next to one of them so that you could see how large it was.
This is the ferry that was docked at the terminal as our ferry approached Anacortes. Notice the puffs of smoke coming out of the ferry? Yeah, that's because OUR boat was supposed to be docking there at that time and the ferry in the picture had to hustle out of the way for us!
On the ferry ride, this huge yacht, owned by someone richer than me (obviously), sailed in front of our ferry. This doesn't seem particularly safe to me, but then, yacht owners probably have their own set of rules. (Maritime Rule #24: The captain with the highest gross personal income has the right of way.)
Several years ago, when we vacationed on Orcas Island, we spotted this field of port-a-potties from the highway as we were traveling home. Sadly, we did not get a picture at that time (partly because we didn't own a camera -- but only partly). This time, we got the picture! In fact, we were engaged in an intense conversation about something serious when we spotted them, and I derailed the discussion completely by shouting, "Port-a-potties! Port-a-potties!!!" (Horribly geeky, I know... but how often do you see something like this?)
This is a barn we passed several times on our way to and from the island, and it is notable because it sparked a discussion about barn fractions. In fact, after taking this picture of the half-barn, we saw three quarters of a barn down the road. (No picture, though.)
Finally, this last one is quite possibly the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life. Midway between the northern harbor and the ferry terminal to the south, the road that connects the two ends of Anacortes travels past a shipyard full of old boats and partial boats. The boundaries of the shipyard were marked out with logs and docks and one very large old cargo ship. Upon closer inspection, we discovered that the cargo ship was being used as a gigantic planter with trees and shrubs growing out of it. It's seriously the most amazing planter I've ever seen. I'm afraid it's too big for my yard...
Monday, July 4, 2011
A REAL VACATION! Part 5: International Drug Lords
Situated as it was on the northern coastline of Samish Island, our cottage and its grounds looked out over Samish Bay, a quiet part of Puget Sound where very little happens. We discovered on our first night there that a large cargo ship of some kind was anchored out in the bay. It seemed odd to us at that point, but it was to become stranger still as the weekend went on. Why would a huge boat like that be sitting around in a little bay that doesn't go anywhere, doesn't connect to any port or industrial area of the Sound?
You should know that this story is far more interesting if you imagine the craziest explanation possible. (Most things in life are like that.) We chose to believe that the large cargo ship was waiting for some sort of huge drug deal.
Here is the boat on our first day. Notice how suspicious it looks? (Try harder to see the suspicious nature of the boat. Seriously, try harder.)
When we returned to our cottage on the second day, a sailboat had anchored very close to the bank by our cottage. The cargo ship was still there. It seems obvious that the suspicious lingering of the ship had attracted the attention of others besides us. The sailboat had to belong to undercover DEA agents staking out the ship.
Why else would a sailboat stay all night watching the ship?
On the third day, the ship had rotated enough for us to get an excellent picture with further details.
On the fourth day, the ship had rotated again.
By that evening, the sailboat had been joined by a fishing boat and a small speedboat.
Then something happened! A small speedboat came out to visit the other small boats. Then the speedboat went out to the ship, sped around it, and motored back around the corner of the island and out of sight.
Later I did see pictures in a coffee table book showing several of the same cargo ships waiting in various neighboring coves and bays. As it turns out, they wait for up to a week for the nearby oil refinery to be reading for loading or unloading their products. Although I do think that our story about the DEA staking out the drug ship is far more exciting.
You should know that this story is far more interesting if you imagine the craziest explanation possible. (Most things in life are like that.) We chose to believe that the large cargo ship was waiting for some sort of huge drug deal.
Here is the boat on our first day. Notice how suspicious it looks? (Try harder to see the suspicious nature of the boat. Seriously, try harder.)
When we returned to our cottage on the second day, a sailboat had anchored very close to the bank by our cottage. The cargo ship was still there. It seems obvious that the suspicious lingering of the ship had attracted the attention of others besides us. The sailboat had to belong to undercover DEA agents staking out the ship.
Why else would a sailboat stay all night watching the ship?
On the third day, the ship had rotated enough for us to get an excellent picture with further details.
On the fourth day, the ship had rotated again.
By that evening, the sailboat had been joined by a fishing boat and a small speedboat.
Then something happened! A small speedboat came out to visit the other small boats. Then the speedboat went out to the ship, sped around it, and motored back around the corner of the island and out of sight.
Later I did see pictures in a coffee table book showing several of the same cargo ships waiting in various neighboring coves and bays. As it turns out, they wait for up to a week for the nearby oil refinery to be reading for loading or unloading their products. Although I do think that our story about the DEA staking out the drug ship is far more exciting.
A REAL VACATION! Part 4: His and Hers
Again, let me just say that I am not a serious photographer. (Refer to my previous post "A Real Vacation Part 2" for more examples.) Here are more "his and hers" examples of the photographic styles of Mr. Chandler and myself.
We went to San Juan Island and attempted to get out of the town of Friday Harbor immediately because it was packed with tourists (blech). As we drove the perimeter of the island, we stopped in a couple notable places. One of them was a state park known for its orca-spotting opportunities. We didn't see any whales, but we did see seals.
Here are his pictures of the seals sunning themselves on a rock.
Here's my picture of a log that a bunch of people freaked out about because they thought it was a sea lion (and yes, I took the picture because I knew it was just a log).
We also stopped at the American Camp, which is another beautiful state park with a windswept coastal view.
Here are some of his panoramic pictures of the beach.
And what did I take a picture of? Strangers, of course! These are some bicycle guys that wanted their picture taken in front of the beach. (I took a picture of them on their camera AND on mine.)
On another day during our vacation, we drove the length of Whidbey Island and then crossed the bridge between Whidbey and Anacortes. The bridge is at a point called Deception Pass, and once again our pictures are very telling.
Here's his picture of the pass with the shadow of the bridge. (He really wanted me to point out that shadow.)
Here's my picture of the weird color of the water.
Here's his picture of the lovely vista from the bridge.
Here's my picture of the narrow little sidewalk that we had to walk on to get out to the middle of the bridge to take his picture (including almost getting smashed by a semi-truck, although I didn't manage to get a picture of THAT as I was trying to stay alive).
Between us, we seem to have covered both the scenic and the comic quite nicely.
We went to San Juan Island and attempted to get out of the town of Friday Harbor immediately because it was packed with tourists (blech). As we drove the perimeter of the island, we stopped in a couple notable places. One of them was a state park known for its orca-spotting opportunities. We didn't see any whales, but we did see seals.
Here are his pictures of the seals sunning themselves on a rock.
Here's my picture of a log that a bunch of people freaked out about because they thought it was a sea lion (and yes, I took the picture because I knew it was just a log).
We also stopped at the American Camp, which is another beautiful state park with a windswept coastal view.
Here are some of his panoramic pictures of the beach.
And what did I take a picture of? Strangers, of course! These are some bicycle guys that wanted their picture taken in front of the beach. (I took a picture of them on their camera AND on mine.)
On another day during our vacation, we drove the length of Whidbey Island and then crossed the bridge between Whidbey and Anacortes. The bridge is at a point called Deception Pass, and once again our pictures are very telling.
Here's his picture of the pass with the shadow of the bridge. (He really wanted me to point out that shadow.)
Here's my picture of the weird color of the water.
Here's his picture of the lovely vista from the bridge.
Here's my picture of the narrow little sidewalk that we had to walk on to get out to the middle of the bridge to take his picture (including almost getting smashed by a semi-truck, although I didn't manage to get a picture of THAT as I was trying to stay alive).
Between us, we seem to have covered both the scenic and the comic quite nicely.
A REAL VACATION! Part 3: Vacation Menagerie
Here is the attendance roster for all of the creatures we saw while on vacation in the San Juan Islands last weekend:
- one coyote
- a bald eagle couple (male and female -- we think they were nesting in one of the towering fir trees above our bench)
- several hawks (mostly red-tailed)
- nesting cormorants who don't seem bothered at all by the noise at the ferry terminal (Yes, I had to look them up to find out what they were called. I'm not an ornithologist.)
Here's one gathering materials for a nest.
Here are several in their nests next to the ferry dock.
- a great blue heron in the wetlands (what a wingspan!)
- lots of fearless robins who appeared to be stalking us at dusk (creepy stalker robins)
Here's a ninja robin inching closer to us under cover of darkness.
- lots of cows
- some really shaggy steer in a forest
- lots of horses
- three donkeys
- two different alpaca farms
- two llamas
- a rabbit
- five and a half deer, including a fawn (the half)
- one frog who spent the better part of a day relaxing on our front porch
Here he is being neighborly.
- one camel at a farm on the road to Friday Harbor
(No joke -- we would have taken a picture, but there were several children who had stopped to visit the camel, and, frankly, one of the reasons I needed a vacation was that I spend my entire year surrounded by them -- children, not camels.)
I'll leave you with this thought: San Juan Island is accessible only by boat, ferry or plane. Now try to picture a camel traveling on the ferry...
- one coyote
- a bald eagle couple (male and female -- we think they were nesting in one of the towering fir trees above our bench)
- several hawks (mostly red-tailed)
- nesting cormorants who don't seem bothered at all by the noise at the ferry terminal (Yes, I had to look them up to find out what they were called. I'm not an ornithologist.)
Here's one gathering materials for a nest.
Here are several in their nests next to the ferry dock.
- a great blue heron in the wetlands (what a wingspan!)
- lots of fearless robins who appeared to be stalking us at dusk (creepy stalker robins)
Here's a ninja robin inching closer to us under cover of darkness.
- lots of cows
- some really shaggy steer in a forest
- lots of horses
- three donkeys
- two different alpaca farms
- two llamas
- a rabbit
- five and a half deer, including a fawn (the half)
- one frog who spent the better part of a day relaxing on our front porch
Here he is being neighborly.
- one camel at a farm on the road to Friday Harbor
(No joke -- we would have taken a picture, but there were several children who had stopped to visit the camel, and, frankly, one of the reasons I needed a vacation was that I spend my entire year surrounded by them -- children, not camels.)
I'll leave you with this thought: San Juan Island is accessible only by boat, ferry or plane. Now try to picture a camel traveling on the ferry...
Saturday, July 2, 2011
A REAL VACATION! Part 2: Pictures with Personality
In my last post, I blogged about the lovely vacation cottage I'm staying in for a few days, and I posted pictures -- a rare occurrence for me. They were even taken with an actual camera! That's right, blog peeps: For the first time since middle school, I actually own a camera. Well, Mr. Chandler and I own it. And, as he is from a camera-psycho (photographically psychotic?) family, he tends to hog it. In fact, he took all the pictures I posted last time. You can tell because they're pretty and normal. He took this charming picture of the Mukilteo lighthouse from the outside deck of the ferry after we left the dock. (I am in love with this picture.)
He also took this very serious "artistic" picture of a flower. (He's a seriously serious photographer, people. Please take him seriously.) Just kidding. This one is really pretty as well.
And this lovely and carefully composed photo of the bench at the end of the garden, from which you can see out into Samish Bay, is also Mr. Chandler's.
Mostly I try to convince Mr. Chandler to take pictures of random things since he's usually the one holding the camera. You probably noticed that he likes to mix in pretty, nature-and-scenery stuff too, but I'm slowly turning him to the dark side. I'm definitely not your average go-on-vacation-and-post-a-bunch-of-pretty-pictures blogger. My pictures (and his pictures taken under my influence) tend to be of incredibly random things -- like this sign, which made me laugh as we were waiting in line for the Mukilteo ferry. It reminds me of 5-year-old day campers.
Mr. Chandler took this one for me. I have no idea what sort of a store it is. (Okay, I know it's probably either an antique store or a second-hand store of some kind. But isn't the speculation part of the fun? What if it really is a store full of stuff that the owners pulled out of dumpsters? Or maybe they're selling top-of-the-line odor-reducing dumpsters. I'm not sure how you would get them out the front door, but it's an interesting thought.)
The Lucky Dumpster is in Edison, Washington, which consists of a school, a couple of cafes, two bakeries, a couple of antique stores, the dumpster store, and this really special liquor store, which appears to be in someone's garage.
I DID manage to take a scenic picture of Mount Baker from the country road leading to Samish Island. It is my greatest photographic achievement to date.
(No, seriously. I actually took that picture. This one was all me.)
He also took this very serious "artistic" picture of a flower. (He's a seriously serious photographer, people. Please take him seriously.) Just kidding. This one is really pretty as well.
And this lovely and carefully composed photo of the bench at the end of the garden, from which you can see out into Samish Bay, is also Mr. Chandler's.
Mostly I try to convince Mr. Chandler to take pictures of random things since he's usually the one holding the camera. You probably noticed that he likes to mix in pretty, nature-and-scenery stuff too, but I'm slowly turning him to the dark side. I'm definitely not your average go-on-vacation-and-post-a-bunch-of-pretty-pictures blogger. My pictures (and his pictures taken under my influence) tend to be of incredibly random things -- like this sign, which made me laugh as we were waiting in line for the Mukilteo ferry. It reminds me of 5-year-old day campers.
Mr. Chandler took this one for me. I have no idea what sort of a store it is. (Okay, I know it's probably either an antique store or a second-hand store of some kind. But isn't the speculation part of the fun? What if it really is a store full of stuff that the owners pulled out of dumpsters? Or maybe they're selling top-of-the-line odor-reducing dumpsters. I'm not sure how you would get them out the front door, but it's an interesting thought.)
The Lucky Dumpster is in Edison, Washington, which consists of a school, a couple of cafes, two bakeries, a couple of antique stores, the dumpster store, and this really special liquor store, which appears to be in someone's garage.
I DID manage to take a scenic picture of Mount Baker from the country road leading to Samish Island. It is my greatest photographic achievement to date.
(No, seriously. I actually took that picture. This one was all me.)
A REAL VACATION! Part 1
It's pretty unusual for me to get an actual vacation. I know teachers seem to have the coolest schedules ever -- random holidays off, 2 weeks for winter break, 1 week for spring break, 2 months for summer break... But it's quite rare for me to really get to go anywhere or have time when my schedule is clear. School might be over, but the business of the district goes on (and on and on and on). And Mr. Chandler and I foolishly sign our summers away to run day camps for children, which keeps us Portland-locked the entire time. As school was getting out this year, I kept telling people, "Feel free to call me. I'm the only one who's not going anywhere. I have no life. I'm here all summer..." (*depressed sigh*)
HA HA! I was wrong! We had a rare and glorious 4-day weekend because of the timing of July 4th this year, so we rented ourselves a little cottage on Samish Island in the San Juans of Washington. It's cheap, gorgeous, deserted, and within 30 minutes of several small and medium towns with all the necessary amenities (like espresso). Our cottage is on a 7-acre estate owned by some people with a LOT of gardening time on their hands. They have created a beautiful English estate-style garden/yard/expanse of pretty green right on the edge of the island. We can see the water from our cottage window, and if we walk to the edge of the garden, we can look out Samish Bay.
Here are the peaceful grounds and water view.
This is our little cottage.
This is the main house and part of the gardens.
HA HA! I was wrong! We had a rare and glorious 4-day weekend because of the timing of July 4th this year, so we rented ourselves a little cottage on Samish Island in the San Juans of Washington. It's cheap, gorgeous, deserted, and within 30 minutes of several small and medium towns with all the necessary amenities (like espresso). Our cottage is on a 7-acre estate owned by some people with a LOT of gardening time on their hands. They have created a beautiful English estate-style garden/yard/expanse of pretty green right on the edge of the island. We can see the water from our cottage window, and if we walk to the edge of the garden, we can look out Samish Bay.
Here are the peaceful grounds and water view.
This is our little cottage.
This is the main house and part of the gardens.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
A Silver Lining
I know this is supposed to be a molehill, but it's a huge, glorious mountain to me.
The Oregon Department of Education has funding issues. So they have cancelled the 7th grade writing test for next year because it's too expensive to process the tests and pay scorers. (Could it be? There's actually a bright side to the recession!) That's right, no test! For the first time in 8 long years, my students and I will not be slaves to the anxiety produced by the highest of high stakes testing. And while we will still administer writing tests to the students -- probably produced and monitored by my ever-conscientious school district -- it will be at a far more appropriate time in the school year, most likely toward the end of the year. This means I can pace my writing instruction in a way that will be SO much easier for my students to understand and master.
I cannot adequately express how happy this makes me. It's like a "Happy Summer" present just for me! (It's okay, you don't have to care. Just be happy for me.)
The Oregon Department of Education has funding issues. So they have cancelled the 7th grade writing test for next year because it's too expensive to process the tests and pay scorers. (Could it be? There's actually a bright side to the recession!) That's right, no test! For the first time in 8 long years, my students and I will not be slaves to the anxiety produced by the highest of high stakes testing. And while we will still administer writing tests to the students -- probably produced and monitored by my ever-conscientious school district -- it will be at a far more appropriate time in the school year, most likely toward the end of the year. This means I can pace my writing instruction in a way that will be SO much easier for my students to understand and master.
I cannot adequately express how happy this makes me. It's like a "Happy Summer" present just for me! (It's okay, you don't have to care. Just be happy for me.)
Monday, June 27, 2011
Shifting Gears Without a Clutch
As hard as it is to believe, the school year is well and truly over, and summer has officially begun. Today was our first day of summer camp, and it really crept up on me! June swept through like a tornado, taking with it everything you see listed below. If you read the list aloud as quickly as you can, you might understand how crazy it's been in my classroom/house/life/calendar.
A brief glimpse of my June:
lots of meetings
5th grade parent night
8th grade recognition
a couple of intense negotiations sessions with the school district
several meetings
multiple yearbooks (and because I'm a language arts teacher, these had to be signed with something more creative than H.A.G.S!)
a delightful retirement party
an anxiously-awaited 8th grade dance
the end of a novel
even more meetings
the massacre of about 40 Pop Tarts (long story, inside joke, and be sure to check the ceiling)
a scary essay test
a craft order for several hundred dollars
a t-shirt order for even more hundreds of dollars
some meetings with our summer boss
some other meetings
a LOT of complicated grades
lots of laundry
one or two last-minute meetings
This morning I woke up on time, along with my trusty alarm clock, and got myself ready for our first day of day camp. We had 23 campers today, and they were really really small. I've spent the last two years with the same group of middle school students, so I've grown accustomed to them as 13-year-olds amid adolescent growth spurts. Thus, the tiny 4-year-olds with tiny voices that showed up today were kind of a shock, albeit a pleasant one. When I arrived home this afternoon, my brain was waffling back and forth between thinking summer camp had already been going for a few weeks and trying to figure out why I didn't have to be at school today. I'll get used to summer within a week or so, I'm sure, but for now... some mental double clutching might be in order.
A brief glimpse of my June:
lots of meetings
5th grade parent night
8th grade recognition
a couple of intense negotiations sessions with the school district
several meetings
multiple yearbooks (and because I'm a language arts teacher, these had to be signed with something more creative than H.A.G.S!)
a delightful retirement party
an anxiously-awaited 8th grade dance
the end of a novel
even more meetings
the massacre of about 40 Pop Tarts (long story, inside joke, and be sure to check the ceiling)
a scary essay test
a craft order for several hundred dollars
a t-shirt order for even more hundreds of dollars
some meetings with our summer boss
some other meetings
a LOT of complicated grades
lots of laundry
one or two last-minute meetings
This morning I woke up on time, along with my trusty alarm clock, and got myself ready for our first day of day camp. We had 23 campers today, and they were really really small. I've spent the last two years with the same group of middle school students, so I've grown accustomed to them as 13-year-olds amid adolescent growth spurts. Thus, the tiny 4-year-olds with tiny voices that showed up today were kind of a shock, albeit a pleasant one. When I arrived home this afternoon, my brain was waffling back and forth between thinking summer camp had already been going for a few weeks and trying to figure out why I didn't have to be at school today. I'll get used to summer within a week or so, I'm sure, but for now... some mental double clutching might be in order.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Because I'm Not Enough of a Freak Already?
My students have urged me to post a blog describing my random and startling fall in class recently... But I don't feel like embarrassing myself further. It is enough to say that when one wears sandals with moderate heels, one should stand still and not attempt to stand on one's toes by balancing on the heels of said sandals. Also, when one takes an unexpected tumble in front of a crowd, a weird, high-pitched "whoop!" is NOT the appropriate sound effect. (I have no idea what the appropriate sound effect in that situation is... obviously.)
Sunday, May 22, 2011
My Most Sincere Apologies to Ms. Julie Andrews
For several years now, I've referred to some of the more significant movies starring Julie Andrews as though the characters in the films are the same person. For example, whenever The Princess Diaries comes up in conversation, I point out that Maria from the Sound of Music grew up to be the Queen of Genovia (since both characters are played by Julie Andrews). Mary Poppins works the same way. As new seventh graders, my students are usually confused enough by this to give me that wonderfully amusing look that tells me they're not entirely sure I'm joking. (Is she nuts? Why do they let weirdos like this in the classroom?) This passes quickly, however, and within a few short months, I have revealed myself to be merely a quirky nerd with a bizarre sense of humor. At that point, my Queen of Genovia jokes really aren't amusing to anyone but me, so I abandon them. At some point last year, I found myself shifting into slightly more subtle form of humor at Julie Andrews' expense. When any of her characters or films are mentioned, I comment, "She's a witch." This is far more interesting to my students, and they ask me to explain myself AND listen raptly to my reasoning (instead of the typical rolling of the eyes at my corny jokes). As I've been urged repeatedly by students, friends, and spouse to blog my beliefs about Ms. Andrews' film characters, I will take the opportunity to do so now.
My theory is simple: Mary Poppins is a witch. Anyone who has seen the movie will have to agree that there are copious amounts of wizardry and witchcraft used throughout the movie. The room that cleans itself up? The carpet bag with more storage capacity than a customs warehouse? The laughing fits that lift people to the ceiling? Come on, people! This isn't Willy Wonka's factory, and there is no carbonated burping soda. Face the truth, Disney lovers: She's a witch with the powers of dark magic at her disposal. How else can you explain her flying in via umbrella? Also, I believe that the crazy neighbor who thinks he's still on a ship recognizes the incoming and outgoing nannies as a coven of witches and is merely trying to shoot them out of the sky with his cannon. And we must not ignore the most most damning evidence of all: who but a witch could force children to jump into a sidewalk and spend an afternoon among cartoon people and penguins?
I have no idea how Fraulein Maria fits into this, except to express confusion and suspicion about two small elements in the film -- the puppets and the curtain clothes. But rest assured, the Queen of Genovia has wizardry connections. She must have; there's no other explanation for the worldwide recognition of her monarchy in an imaginary country.
So there you have it -- my suspicious theory regarding a beloved Disney nanny. Next time, perhaps I'll expound on the evils of OnStar...
My theory is simple: Mary Poppins is a witch. Anyone who has seen the movie will have to agree that there are copious amounts of wizardry and witchcraft used throughout the movie. The room that cleans itself up? The carpet bag with more storage capacity than a customs warehouse? The laughing fits that lift people to the ceiling? Come on, people! This isn't Willy Wonka's factory, and there is no carbonated burping soda. Face the truth, Disney lovers: She's a witch with the powers of dark magic at her disposal. How else can you explain her flying in via umbrella? Also, I believe that the crazy neighbor who thinks he's still on a ship recognizes the incoming and outgoing nannies as a coven of witches and is merely trying to shoot them out of the sky with his cannon. And we must not ignore the most most damning evidence of all: who but a witch could force children to jump into a sidewalk and spend an afternoon among cartoon people and penguins?
I have no idea how Fraulein Maria fits into this, except to express confusion and suspicion about two small elements in the film -- the puppets and the curtain clothes. But rest assured, the Queen of Genovia has wizardry connections. She must have; there's no other explanation for the worldwide recognition of her monarchy in an imaginary country.
So there you have it -- my suspicious theory regarding a beloved Disney nanny. Next time, perhaps I'll expound on the evils of OnStar...
Friday, May 13, 2011
Matched by Ally Condy
I’ve been reading this book, and it’s really making me angry. It’s a young adult sci-fi novel about a utopia/dystopian society in which those in control (“the Society”) decided that society was over-stimulated by all of the fine arts creations in the world. So they took all of the songs that had ever been written and sifted through them and selected the 100 songs they thought were the best, the most relevant, the most worthy, the most important for society to hear… and destroyed the rest. Then they did the same with books, poems, works of art (paintings, drawings, sketches), sculptures, pieces of classical music, etc. Society then moved forward using only the “100 Best” of each type of fine art creation. The "100 Best" were taught and studied, and all others were forbidden.
When I read this, I was surprised by my own angry reaction to it. I think I was reacting to two parts – first, that a group of people would presume to decide for the rest of the world what constitutes the “best” of the last several hundred years, and second, that it leaves no room for future generations to create new and innovative works of fine art. This, naturally, led me to think about all of the different books people write – and, because I’m an English teacher, about the books that teachers use in class. We’ve been examining the new Common Core Curriculum Standards that will govern what we teach next year, and, as it does every year, the conversation about standards brought up the always-touchy topic of what books we’ll teach our students. There’s almost a “Society”-style group of books of which English teachers approve, and heaven help you if you choose something more unworthy.
This year, our library received an unprecedented grant for purchasing books for the library collection and for our curriculum use. We were asked to turn in wish lists by our library media specialist, who then ordered everything – EVERYTHING – we wanted using the money from this grant. We have new titles for the library and new book sets, both fiction and nonfiction. And yet… as I sat in my department meeting listening to my colleagues talk about which books they will be using next year, there were only two of us in the room who were even interested in using the new materials. Every other teacher at the meeting talked about using the same books they’ve always used.
In my colleagues’ defense, I know they don’t mean to be censoring other books. I know that they choose the same novels because these books are worthy and because the teachers know how the books fit the standards and what great stuff they can find in the books to help their students master the standards. Personally, though, I always agonize over which books to choose for a year. If I choose this one, what am I leaving out? What will my students miss out on because of the book choices I made? Is it really responsible for teachers to simply use the same books over and over, year after year? And who are we to decide that these are the “best” books for our students?
When I read this, I was surprised by my own angry reaction to it. I think I was reacting to two parts – first, that a group of people would presume to decide for the rest of the world what constitutes the “best” of the last several hundred years, and second, that it leaves no room for future generations to create new and innovative works of fine art. This, naturally, led me to think about all of the different books people write – and, because I’m an English teacher, about the books that teachers use in class. We’ve been examining the new Common Core Curriculum Standards that will govern what we teach next year, and, as it does every year, the conversation about standards brought up the always-touchy topic of what books we’ll teach our students. There’s almost a “Society”-style group of books of which English teachers approve, and heaven help you if you choose something more unworthy.
This year, our library received an unprecedented grant for purchasing books for the library collection and for our curriculum use. We were asked to turn in wish lists by our library media specialist, who then ordered everything – EVERYTHING – we wanted using the money from this grant. We have new titles for the library and new book sets, both fiction and nonfiction. And yet… as I sat in my department meeting listening to my colleagues talk about which books they will be using next year, there were only two of us in the room who were even interested in using the new materials. Every other teacher at the meeting talked about using the same books they’ve always used.
In my colleagues’ defense, I know they don’t mean to be censoring other books. I know that they choose the same novels because these books are worthy and because the teachers know how the books fit the standards and what great stuff they can find in the books to help their students master the standards. Personally, though, I always agonize over which books to choose for a year. If I choose this one, what am I leaving out? What will my students miss out on because of the book choices I made? Is it really responsible for teachers to simply use the same books over and over, year after year? And who are we to decide that these are the “best” books for our students?
Saturday, April 30, 2011
A Royal Tea Party
The Royal Wedding -- how exciting! The prince is getting married, and a lovely normal girl will become a princess. It’s the stuff of fairy tales… unless you’re a modern 8th grader carrying all of the typical cynicism and self-focus of 21st century teenagers. While my students have the attitude that the royal wedding is no big deal, I think it’s a rare opportunity that they are not likely to see again for many years. (Does anyone really see Harry settling down any time soon? And when’s the last time a president’s offspring was married while his/her father was still in office?) Such a thing hasn’t happened during my own lifetime since Charles and Diana’s wedding in the early 1980’s. I don’t remember watching that one, but I DVR’d a couple different broadcasts of Friday's royal wedding to watch when I got home from school.
To be honest, I didn’t really care that much about the wedding itself. It’s more about the event, and for my students, I want them to understand how important the events of other countries can be in the world, even if they don’t register on American teenagers’ radars. It’s the idea that American events don’t define world news – although we certainly act as if they do. Making a big deal about the wedding in class allowed me the perfect social studies opportunity to talk about international events and royal families and several other sorts of topics that don’t apply to the U.S. Furthermore, because I talked about it in class, I was also able to talk about another difference between the U.S. and the U.K. -- the conduct of the spectators. After I watched the wedding itself, I was so struck by the behavior of the British people at the event that it was vital to point this out to my students. When the wedding party was safely inside Buckingham Palace, the police constables slowly allowed the crowd to move up to the high fence surrounding the property. As they moved forward, the British citizens walked calmly, peacefully, even politely. They did not push or shove, they did not scream, and they were not out of control in any way, although they were cheering and obviously happy. It was amazing, and my students thought so as well when I told them.
There were several other pieces that stuck out to me, on which I pontificated to my students the following Monday, but that was the biggest and the one by which they were most surprised. At any rate, my making a big deal out of the wedding provided the open door for the other lessons and conversations, so I consider it a worthy effort. And, as a treat, one of my classes decided to have a tea party to celebrate. We had no idea where to procure crumpets, so one of my students brought English muffins (which, of course, are not at all English, but since they have “English” in the name, we decided they could count just this once). I brought jam, and we borrowed a toaster oven from another teacher. I brewed tea in my coffee pot, and another student provided sugar cubes (so that we could say to each other, “one lump, or two?” in our terrible British accents). And while we discussed what books we’ve been reading, we had tea and jam and English muffins and looked out the windows at the rain and spoke in incredibly bad fake accents and had a jolly time.
To be honest, I didn’t really care that much about the wedding itself. It’s more about the event, and for my students, I want them to understand how important the events of other countries can be in the world, even if they don’t register on American teenagers’ radars. It’s the idea that American events don’t define world news – although we certainly act as if they do. Making a big deal about the wedding in class allowed me the perfect social studies opportunity to talk about international events and royal families and several other sorts of topics that don’t apply to the U.S. Furthermore, because I talked about it in class, I was also able to talk about another difference between the U.S. and the U.K. -- the conduct of the spectators. After I watched the wedding itself, I was so struck by the behavior of the British people at the event that it was vital to point this out to my students. When the wedding party was safely inside Buckingham Palace, the police constables slowly allowed the crowd to move up to the high fence surrounding the property. As they moved forward, the British citizens walked calmly, peacefully, even politely. They did not push or shove, they did not scream, and they were not out of control in any way, although they were cheering and obviously happy. It was amazing, and my students thought so as well when I told them.
There were several other pieces that stuck out to me, on which I pontificated to my students the following Monday, but that was the biggest and the one by which they were most surprised. At any rate, my making a big deal out of the wedding provided the open door for the other lessons and conversations, so I consider it a worthy effort. And, as a treat, one of my classes decided to have a tea party to celebrate. We had no idea where to procure crumpets, so one of my students brought English muffins (which, of course, are not at all English, but since they have “English” in the name, we decided they could count just this once). I brought jam, and we borrowed a toaster oven from another teacher. I brewed tea in my coffee pot, and another student provided sugar cubes (so that we could say to each other, “one lump, or two?” in our terrible British accents). And while we discussed what books we’ve been reading, we had tea and jam and English muffins and looked out the windows at the rain and spoke in incredibly bad fake accents and had a jolly time.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Teamwork
So I walked out into the pod area this morning in time to see Whitney – my tallest female student (and one of my tallest students of either gender) – with her foot up on a chair, while Brent – one of my shortest students – worked on tying her shoe. When I asked what they were doing, Whitney explained by saying, “What? He’s closer to the ground than I am,” while Brent nodded his agreement and grinned at me.
I do not claim to understand the inner workings of this particular friendship… but it made me laugh.
I do not claim to understand the inner workings of this particular friendship… but it made me laugh.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
April Showers
Good grief. It’s like July and November all at once, all in the same day. I can’t keep this straight. And holy crap, how in the world is one supposed to get dressed in the morning? Sunglasses and umbrellas, short sleeves and close-toed shoes… The nursery rhyme I learned in grade school was about March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb, but our Portland March went out like a dinosaur. …And not one of those happy, dying-out-in-their-sleep herbivores, either. Now April is showing us both the little lamb who frolics in the morning sunshine AND the roar of the angry, stormy lion. I really hope the May flowers are on their way.
One Day I May Ask You For a Favor...
I have this one student who has spent his eighth grade year doing as little as possible. It drives me crazy, mostly because I saw some interesting and insightful work from him last year. When you have a conversation with him, he can speak quite thoughtfully. And the books he chooses to read – when he actually chooses to read – are mainstream adult fiction books. Currently, he’s reading The Godfather. He’s about 150 pages into it and has been working on it for several weeks. (I sometimes get the feeling that the first 10 minutes of my class are the only chance he gets to read.)
Every quarter in my language arts class, I assign the students a reading project. They have 9 weeks to read 4 books and talk about them in front of the class. My do-nothing student reading The Godfather has avoided doing any "book chats," as we call them, for… well, for as long as I can remember. As I was working on grades on Friday, I was frustrated by his lack of initiative. I KNOW he’s reading; I’ve WATCHED him. He BEGS me for more time to read! He’ll even talk about his book if I sit down next to him while he's reading it. So I decided to trick him into earning a grade.
When he arrived in 6th period the next day, I waited until his back was turned and then grabbed his book off his desk. I walked to the front and set the book on the whiteboard tray. When he finally noticed, predictably because another “helpful” student pointed it out to him, he walked up to the front to get the book. While he was still at the front (before he could make the move to go back to his seat), I asked him, “So, what’s that book about?” He froze and stared at me.
“You don’t know about the Godfather??!!” he asked incredulously.
“I’ve never seen the movie. What’s it about?” I asked nonchalantly.
“That’s crazy. I can’t believe you’ve never seen it or read it. It’s a great book,” he said, and promptly launched into a description of the story, making sure to tell me how the movie and the book are different. While he paced and talked, several students turned to look at me with smiles or questions on their faces. I merely motioned for them to stay quiet and give him their attention again, and they smiled and nodded knowingly and let him go on. Finally, after several minutes of talking, my normally non-participatory student stopped and turned to look at me.
“Wait a minute…” he said, holding up his finger and shaking it at me. “What is this? Is this one of those things you do where you talk about a book and get points for it?!”
"You mean a book chat?" I said with a smile.
"Yeah," he said accusingly, "a book chat. Is this a book chat?!" He sounded SO offended by it that the rest of the class started laughing.
"It was a sneak attack," I answered, and mercilessly ruined his streak of F’s by giving him the points for his surprise book chat.
Later he thanked me -- quietly, so as not to ruin his reputation as a slacker, but still... I said to him, "one day I may ask you for a favor..." and waited to see if he recognized the quote. Fortunately he did. (He really has read the book!) His response was, "As long as you don't put a horse head in my locker..."
Every quarter in my language arts class, I assign the students a reading project. They have 9 weeks to read 4 books and talk about them in front of the class. My do-nothing student reading The Godfather has avoided doing any "book chats," as we call them, for… well, for as long as I can remember. As I was working on grades on Friday, I was frustrated by his lack of initiative. I KNOW he’s reading; I’ve WATCHED him. He BEGS me for more time to read! He’ll even talk about his book if I sit down next to him while he's reading it. So I decided to trick him into earning a grade.
When he arrived in 6th period the next day, I waited until his back was turned and then grabbed his book off his desk. I walked to the front and set the book on the whiteboard tray. When he finally noticed, predictably because another “helpful” student pointed it out to him, he walked up to the front to get the book. While he was still at the front (before he could make the move to go back to his seat), I asked him, “So, what’s that book about?” He froze and stared at me.
“You don’t know about the Godfather??!!” he asked incredulously.
“I’ve never seen the movie. What’s it about?” I asked nonchalantly.
“That’s crazy. I can’t believe you’ve never seen it or read it. It’s a great book,” he said, and promptly launched into a description of the story, making sure to tell me how the movie and the book are different. While he paced and talked, several students turned to look at me with smiles or questions on their faces. I merely motioned for them to stay quiet and give him their attention again, and they smiled and nodded knowingly and let him go on. Finally, after several minutes of talking, my normally non-participatory student stopped and turned to look at me.
“Wait a minute…” he said, holding up his finger and shaking it at me. “What is this? Is this one of those things you do where you talk about a book and get points for it?!”
"You mean a book chat?" I said with a smile.
"Yeah," he said accusingly, "a book chat. Is this a book chat?!" He sounded SO offended by it that the rest of the class started laughing.
"It was a sneak attack," I answered, and mercilessly ruined his streak of F’s by giving him the points for his surprise book chat.
Later he thanked me -- quietly, so as not to ruin his reputation as a slacker, but still... I said to him, "one day I may ask you for a favor..." and waited to see if he recognized the quote. Fortunately he did. (He really has read the book!) His response was, "As long as you don't put a horse head in my locker..."
Monday, March 28, 2011
Spring Break in Tropical Spokane
I’m not even sure how to talk about my spring break. I ended up sitting in a Spokane hospital for four days while my dad had heart surgery. Add in the bronchitis that I’ve been fighting for 4 weeks now, and my dad’s crazy family (upset because my mom’s updates can’t be given to both sisters at the same time because one doesn’t text and the other can’t do conference calls), and my brother who travels without a clear plan and leaves to go shoe shopping when my dad is getting released from the hospital and needs a ride, and the infection my dad tested positive for, causing all of us to have to “gown up” every time we visited his room... And you have a complicated and stressful week.
I now know far more about Sacred Heart Medical Center in Spokane than I ever needed to. I was grateful for the convenient motel across the street offering a "medical" discount for family members of hospital patients and staffed by wonderfully kind people. I was introduced to Qdoba, which I'd never experienced before. (It's good -- kind of a mix of Taco Bell and Baja Fresh, but trendier.) I drank tea made by Thomas Hammer Coffee Roasters (whom I'd never heard of but really like). I bought a cute purse in the gift shop (random and unrelated, sorry). I made fun of the cardiologist's post-surgery hair (wild, bushy, silver). Guess what I did NOT do... That's right, I did not do one tiny little bit of grading!
The bright spot in the week was definitely Hannah, who had everyone smiling most of the time. While my dad was in surgery on Monday, Hannah had us chasing her around the hospital hallways, and she charmed my dad’s nurses immediately (once she was allowed in his room). On the drive home, she kept us entertained with her baby-talk chatter, and once we arrived at my parents’ house and she had access to her toys, she wasted no time in drafting all of us as her playmates. Have I mentioned how much I LOVE this girl?
I now know far more about Sacred Heart Medical Center in Spokane than I ever needed to. I was grateful for the convenient motel across the street offering a "medical" discount for family members of hospital patients and staffed by wonderfully kind people. I was introduced to Qdoba, which I'd never experienced before. (It's good -- kind of a mix of Taco Bell and Baja Fresh, but trendier.) I drank tea made by Thomas Hammer Coffee Roasters (whom I'd never heard of but really like). I bought a cute purse in the gift shop (random and unrelated, sorry). I made fun of the cardiologist's post-surgery hair (wild, bushy, silver). Guess what I did NOT do... That's right, I did not do one tiny little bit of grading!
The bright spot in the week was definitely Hannah, who had everyone smiling most of the time. While my dad was in surgery on Monday, Hannah had us chasing her around the hospital hallways, and she charmed my dad’s nurses immediately (once she was allowed in his room). On the drive home, she kept us entertained with her baby-talk chatter, and once we arrived at my parents’ house and she had access to her toys, she wasted no time in drafting all of us as her playmates. Have I mentioned how much I LOVE this girl?
Friday, March 18, 2011
I Heart Hannah
My niece Hannah stayed at my house last weekend, along with her parents, of course.
I adore this girl SO MUCH… She is beautiful and hilarious and joyful, and I just love her.
Mr. Chandler and I babysat her on Friday night while her parents went to a wedding, and we had a lovely team eating Cheerios and pointing at things and singing (mostly me) and dancing (mostly her) and laughing (mostly Mr. Chandler). Hannah really likes Mr. Chandler and me, although I have to admit that part of our charm is that we both have extraordinarily curly hair (which she is not used to as her mother does not let her father’s afro reach its natural state). Hannah herself has the most interesting red hair, and I love it! She’s not talking yet, but she is definitely mobile. She crawls like nobody’s business, and she walks if you hold her hands. She’s very insistent when she’s walking, too; she will turn your arms if she wants to go in a different direction.
We went out to breakfast on Saturday, and because it was Hannah’s birthday, the waitress brought her a brownie with ice cream and a lit candle. I have no idea why – the child is barely one year old and does not eat sugar (or anything else, really, but that’s a story for another time). Hannah didn’t really care about the brownie and ice cream, but she was fascinated with the flame (fortunately only from afar). After splitting up for some random shopping, my mom and I met up with Hannah and her parents and her California grandmother for lunch. California Grandma had just flown in for a week-long visit. Hannah, of course, was the happy center of attention, and, to my delight, when it was time for all of them to pile into the van and drive back to Eastern Washington, Hannah wanted to hang out with ME. I adore her, and it appears the feeling might be mutual! Now I just have to figure out when I can see her again...
Here's something else I love: my Kindle. (Thanks to Mr. Chandler for celebrating the end of my grad school class in such a scrumptious and literary way!)
I adore this girl SO MUCH… She is beautiful and hilarious and joyful, and I just love her.
Mr. Chandler and I babysat her on Friday night while her parents went to a wedding, and we had a lovely team eating Cheerios and pointing at things and singing (mostly me) and dancing (mostly her) and laughing (mostly Mr. Chandler). Hannah really likes Mr. Chandler and me, although I have to admit that part of our charm is that we both have extraordinarily curly hair (which she is not used to as her mother does not let her father’s afro reach its natural state). Hannah herself has the most interesting red hair, and I love it! She’s not talking yet, but she is definitely mobile. She crawls like nobody’s business, and she walks if you hold her hands. She’s very insistent when she’s walking, too; she will turn your arms if she wants to go in a different direction.
We went out to breakfast on Saturday, and because it was Hannah’s birthday, the waitress brought her a brownie with ice cream and a lit candle. I have no idea why – the child is barely one year old and does not eat sugar (or anything else, really, but that’s a story for another time). Hannah didn’t really care about the brownie and ice cream, but she was fascinated with the flame (fortunately only from afar). After splitting up for some random shopping, my mom and I met up with Hannah and her parents and her California grandmother for lunch. California Grandma had just flown in for a week-long visit. Hannah, of course, was the happy center of attention, and, to my delight, when it was time for all of them to pile into the van and drive back to Eastern Washington, Hannah wanted to hang out with ME. I adore her, and it appears the feeling might be mutual! Now I just have to figure out when I can see her again...
Here's something else I love: my Kindle. (Thanks to Mr. Chandler for celebrating the end of my grad school class in such a scrumptious and literary way!)
Be Nice to Teachers
I recently attended a conference sponsored by NEA at which the keynote speaker was University of Oregon professor Dr. Yong Zhao. He talked about how American politicians are not happy unless the U.S. is in first place, and they compare the U.S. (in an unhealthy manner that we urge children not to use) to any other country who IS in first place, regardless of context. As part of his amazingly compelling speech, he made a joke about how teachers caused the Wall Street crash and the mortgage crisis and the latest political scandals and global warming and the bird flu epidemic. There was a room-wide laugh, followed by a weird sort of collective sigh as each teacher at the conference realized that there truly are people out there who hate public educators. Meanwhile, I spend my weekends grading papers and scoring essays and taking classes to make sure I’m good at helping kids learn... *sigh*
On the bright side, Dr. Zhao also talked about creativity as the element of American education that is lacking in many other countries. He showed data from the U.S. Patent Office that was fascinating. Apparently, the U.S. issues more patents per year than all of Asia combined. Now, I certainly have no need for us to be in first place, so I'm going to brag on another country right now and say that I don’t think the Chinese need to worry. In our study of China in 7th grade social studies, we learned that the Chinese were the most inventive of the medieval people, responsible for everything from fireworks to playing cards to sliced bread. (Okay, I made that last one up.)
With politics invading public education all over the country, it can be depressing to work in schools these days. To show your support of public education, please wear RED on Tuesdays.
On the bright side, Dr. Zhao also talked about creativity as the element of American education that is lacking in many other countries. He showed data from the U.S. Patent Office that was fascinating. Apparently, the U.S. issues more patents per year than all of Asia combined. Now, I certainly have no need for us to be in first place, so I'm going to brag on another country right now and say that I don’t think the Chinese need to worry. In our study of China in 7th grade social studies, we learned that the Chinese were the most inventive of the medieval people, responsible for everything from fireworks to playing cards to sliced bread. (Okay, I made that last one up.)
With politics invading public education all over the country, it can be depressing to work in schools these days. To show your support of public education, please wear RED on Tuesdays.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Cakes in Class
So much of what we do in middle school language arts involves writing – sentences, paragraphs, essays, reports, stories, answers to questions, etc. I have no regrets about working my students until their writing hands fall apart, mind you. But I do recognize that it can cause occasional academic weariness in adolescents. As a teacher, I believe in giving students a variety of learning opportunities that allow them to understand and to demonstrate their understanding through different strengths – multiple intelligences or modalities or whatever you want to call it. But as an English teacher, especially in the middle grades, I don’t often have the flexibility to work in the "fun" stuff. What amazes and confuses me is the unbelievably random nature of the creative projects my students produce when I manage to give them the chance.
I like to assign them an unidentified “Creative Project” to go along with an essay, a speech or a presentation of some sort. I require them to represent whatever we’ve been studying in whatever way they choose. Over the last two years, this particular group of students has surprised me over and over again with their project choices. I have one boy who likes to make up songs or the occasional interpretive dance. (And let me tell you, if you’ve never seen a “too cool for school” 13-year-old boy flail erratically in front of the class while rapping about a book we read in class, you haven’t lived.) There is a group of about 5 students who routinely choose to record themselves acting out parts of books or historical events in their backyards, and then edit and polish a DVD to show the class. (This has become such a popular option that they now create blooper reels to add on to the ends of their movies.) I have several gifted artists in my group, and their abilities, as well as their posters, pictures, illustrations, etc., have frequently impressed the entire class, and I have other kinesthetically oriented students who create models, sculptures, dioramas, or other 3-D creations. Some of the students, who don’t necessarily have access to the same technology as others might, take immense delight in performing surprisingly well-organized dramatic skits in front of the class. (Admittedly, allowing 8th graders to create their own skits is occasionally a risk. For the last round of creative projects, there was a quartet of boys who decided to present a skit involving a disturbing and unfortunate portrayal of "The Birth of America" that I'm still trying to wipe from my memory... I'll let you think about that one on your own time.) At any rate, by far the most incredible projects are the cakes.
I’m not sure where it started, although I do have two students who are die-hard fans of both Ace of Cakes and Cake Boss. (In one of my unguarded moments, I must have agreed to this, but for the life of me, I can’t fathom why. Feed teenagers sugar during class? Seriously?) Anyway, in using cakes as the medium for their creative projects, the students decorate the cakes in a way that represents something from the unit we’ve been studying. There are all kinds of complications, of course, especially since we’re not allowed to serve homemade food to students at school. So the kids must decide whether they want to buy a plain cake and decorate it (expensive, but allowed to be shared) or make the entire thing themselves (far more impressive, but with less popularity with peers attached to it due to the non-sharing regulations on homemade food). For our most recent project, I had a grand total of 6 cakes, including one 3-layer spectacle with little plastic army men marching across a sugary meadow. We had so many cakes that I had to store them in the school’s walk-in cooler. Every morning, we’d get one of the cakes and take it back to class with us. (When did I agree to host a week-long cake party?!) I made them wait to eat cake until the end of class so that their sugar rush would be inflicted on me for as little time as possible, and then I sent them off to some other teacher who had to deal with the hyper darlings. Please don’t blame me… They’re just being creative.
I like to assign them an unidentified “Creative Project” to go along with an essay, a speech or a presentation of some sort. I require them to represent whatever we’ve been studying in whatever way they choose. Over the last two years, this particular group of students has surprised me over and over again with their project choices. I have one boy who likes to make up songs or the occasional interpretive dance. (And let me tell you, if you’ve never seen a “too cool for school” 13-year-old boy flail erratically in front of the class while rapping about a book we read in class, you haven’t lived.) There is a group of about 5 students who routinely choose to record themselves acting out parts of books or historical events in their backyards, and then edit and polish a DVD to show the class. (This has become such a popular option that they now create blooper reels to add on to the ends of their movies.) I have several gifted artists in my group, and their abilities, as well as their posters, pictures, illustrations, etc., have frequently impressed the entire class, and I have other kinesthetically oriented students who create models, sculptures, dioramas, or other 3-D creations. Some of the students, who don’t necessarily have access to the same technology as others might, take immense delight in performing surprisingly well-organized dramatic skits in front of the class. (Admittedly, allowing 8th graders to create their own skits is occasionally a risk. For the last round of creative projects, there was a quartet of boys who decided to present a skit involving a disturbing and unfortunate portrayal of "The Birth of America" that I'm still trying to wipe from my memory... I'll let you think about that one on your own time.) At any rate, by far the most incredible projects are the cakes.
I’m not sure where it started, although I do have two students who are die-hard fans of both Ace of Cakes and Cake Boss. (In one of my unguarded moments, I must have agreed to this, but for the life of me, I can’t fathom why. Feed teenagers sugar during class? Seriously?) Anyway, in using cakes as the medium for their creative projects, the students decorate the cakes in a way that represents something from the unit we’ve been studying. There are all kinds of complications, of course, especially since we’re not allowed to serve homemade food to students at school. So the kids must decide whether they want to buy a plain cake and decorate it (expensive, but allowed to be shared) or make the entire thing themselves (far more impressive, but with less popularity with peers attached to it due to the non-sharing regulations on homemade food). For our most recent project, I had a grand total of 6 cakes, including one 3-layer spectacle with little plastic army men marching across a sugary meadow. We had so many cakes that I had to store them in the school’s walk-in cooler. Every morning, we’d get one of the cakes and take it back to class with us. (When did I agree to host a week-long cake party?!) I made them wait to eat cake until the end of class so that their sugar rush would be inflicted on me for as little time as possible, and then I sent them off to some other teacher who had to deal with the hyper darlings. Please don’t blame me… They’re just being creative.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Read Across America Day
For Read Across America Day, my school did a number of things to celebrate literacy and Dr. Seuss’s birthday. I was in charge of putting poetry on the windows using dry erase markers. I had my students write poetry, and if I had asked their permission, I would totally post some of their poems here. (But I didn’t. So I won’t. Maybe next time.) My favorite was a controversial poem called “Ode to Black Ops.” This ode extolled the virtues of Call of Duty – Black Ops, a video game played on… I have no idea which video game system. (I’m not actually familiar with this video game. When would I have time to play video games?!!!.) I had a couple staff members complain about the poem because of the violent nature of the game… but my principal agreed with me that the benefits outweighed the questionable nature of the game (although the poem did not describe the violence of the game). Seriously, how often do you see 30-some middle school boys pushing each other out of the way because they’re so anxious to read poetry?!
I tried and tried to convince them that “Ode to Black Ops” is evidence that poems can be cool and funny… Alas, they remain convinced that poetry is some evil estrogen villain waiting for them in dark corners, ready to scribble girly nonsense on their souls with pink glitter gel pens.
I tried and tried to convince them that “Ode to Black Ops” is evidence that poems can be cool and funny… Alas, they remain convinced that poetry is some evil estrogen villain waiting for them in dark corners, ready to scribble girly nonsense on their souls with pink glitter gel pens.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Fowl Weather
After a couple of weeks of relatively dry weather – and even some occasional bouts of sunshine – the rain has returned with a vengeance. And it’s not even a misty rain, either. It’s a heavy rain with huge, heavy drops that plop on you as you walk into the building. There are puddles everywhere, and water runs in rivulets through parking lots, in streets, down driveways, and from unfortunately leaky gutters. (...In case there was any doubt that we're in Portand.) Outside my classroom is the dirt baseball field, which is currently occupied by a huge muddy puddle because of the rain. There are two ducks who have taken up residence in the baseball mud puddle. I can see them from my window, and at the moment, they are happily splashing around while the rain showers on them. They have returned to the large puddle (which looks more like a small lake at this point) for a couple days in a row now. I adore ducks, especially puddle ducks. They are quite cheerful about the weather today, and they have cheered me up immensely.
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