Thriving in the Time of Covid

When friends or family inquire, I describe my daughter as a raging introvert who had senioritus anyway, and I assure them that she is actually thriving with all this time at home. It is true. We are lucky.

I know that an extroverted teenage girl unmoored from the physical presence of her friends for this long would be a larger challenge. My good friend's daughter had JUST made the lacrosse team at her school as an inexperienced walk-on. She was so looking forward to this new-for-her sport. She doesn't know it yet, but I'm sending her a microgreens starter kit as my way of trying to mitigate her pain, even as I know her losses are too huge to heal with simple gestures. But at least she has three more years of high school to hone her skills and grow her friendships face to face.

Our introvert began her happy homestand by deep cleaning the bathroom she shares with her brother and organizing her bedroom. Like an expectant mama bird, she first prepared her nest. A garbage bag of near-empty lotions, shampoos and loose packaging emerged from this effort, along with an extra load of laundry. After the settling-in, and in her own time, she began communicating with teachers, continuing with her research paper, completing assignments or attending online class meetings as they started to appear on her calendar. She’s also working out, daily.

A dress without an occasion now hangs on her closet door.  She is likely not as heartbroken as many about the cancellation of senior rituals, but I know it still must ache deep down. Even with promises of an eventual send-off that is fitting of their unique program. Even with all day kitty comfort and perfect springtime weather in which to bask. Even though she is introverting to her heart's content, daily.

Finding Solace

Gardening is my salvation right now, in the time of Covid. Watching each of my old friends in the backyard return from a winter’s sleep is both gratifying and comforting. Oh yeah, I remember you! Where are those Emperor Tulips I replenished last Fall? Aha, there you are! Now what is THAT?! are just some of the unspoken words in my brain as I survey the perimeter for the first time each new day. Turns out I have Bee Balm going rogue in three locations. But my Bobo Hydrangeas are late sleepers, even as the Limelight ones are bursting with fresh green leaf buds already.

Last weekend I transferred my hybrid tomato varieties from starter trays to three inch peat cups. They responded well, even when I didn’t manage to get all of the deepest roots out of the narrow bottom of each pocket. This weekend I attempted my Brandywine Pinks, which are heirlooms, and they are not responding quite as well. In fact, I’m purposely stalling before I head to the front porch enclosure to check on them, for fear the majority will still be flopped sideways in exasperation with my clumsy efforts. Never mind the jalapeños that have failed to sprout at all in two attempts. Peppers are notoriously difficult, I’m told.

The school community garden is coming along, thanks to a hardworking weekly volunteer who brought along his girlfriend this weekend, and thanks as always to the tireless PTA parent who has taken this garden on as her pet project for the six years that her two girls span at our school. We’ve prepared some areas that didn’t get planted at all last year, and we’re extending the flower bed along the front fence line. On our most recent visit we spent the entire two hours weeding between rows and along the opposite fence line. It’s a huge garden to plant and maintain. What were those Girl Scouts of 2010 thinking?!

In the end, I would be floundering without my gardening to ground me. Like teaching, or parenting, or so many other life pursuits, there is always more that could be done. It helps to be process-oriented and very, very patient.

Summer Dreaming

For dinner we enjoyed lightly floured, pan fried ocean perch. Ocean perch is larger than its fresh water cousin with which we are more familiar. Eating perch of any kind always brings back wonderful memories of family gatherings in Port Dover, Ontario at the Erie Beach Hotel - famous for its flash fried Lake Erie perch. These tender, flakey whitefish filets go perfectly with beer and Canadian cousins in the summer.

The cool breeze we’ve invited in through slightly raised windows feels more like May than end of March. What’s missing is the distant hum of traffic on this almost eerily quiet Sunday evening. It’s small town quiet out there. Like my childhood backyard, only not as pitch dark. Life is simpler now, too, of necessity. Slowing it all down has been comforting in the face of real worry. Worry about my older relatives, worry about my older friends and colleagues, worry for all the good people out there who are having a much tougher time than I am.

The promise of summer, and a July 4th like no other, keeps me going. The neighborhood picnic and parade, followed by the annual pig roast... baseball games at Nationals Park... maybe even a road trip back to Ontario for some of that Lake Erie perch with my cousins.

Puzzled

We are having a challenge with a puzzle that my husband started a week or more ago. Most of the edge pieces are assembled, which is how we usually begin a new puzzle, but little else has been accomplished.

This morning I sat down with it for about thirty minutes and did not make my usual headway. While he’s ready to box it back up, I suggested moving it to the dining room table and starting another one here in the family room, where he usually puzzles.

I’ve never not completed a puzzle that we’ve unboxed. Not here, not in my childhood home, and certainly not now, when we’ve got easily another month of time at home. Alright, Starry Night! It’s you against me. And I’m not stopping until you are complete. Mark my words.

Here’s hoping that blue is still my favorite color when this is all over.


                                 

                      

                                 

Breaking Boundaries

Last week I used email to reach out to school families, but I rarely heard back. Several days ago we were given the code *67 to use for making phone calls to parents from our personal or home phones in order to preserve our privacy. But since then I am realizing that not everyone returns calls that have no ID or phone number attached to them. That realization has led me to be a little less protective of my privacy, under our changing circumstances.

In the past, school was school and home was home. I did my best to keep the two realms of my life separate from each other. There was a certain balance to my day that I did not want to upset by bringing too much home. Better to just stay late on occasion. But now I find myself checking a colleague's Canvas page at 11:00pm because he's in the ICU with a family member and he has to work when he's got the opportunity. As he troubleshoots, I text my feedback. We brainstorm, and we problem solve. Or it's 5:00pm and I'm texting with a mother who works all day and can't get back to me until after work hours. Or I'm relaying MiFi troubleshooting tips to a student via his mother on her lunch break.

At first this straining of the my heretofore strict boundaries was very stress-inducing. But now I realize that working this way, from home and in the era of Covid 19, has to be more fluid if it is to be worthwhile. Slowly I've adjusted to having several video conferences one day and none the next. If I need to stop working to help my son get some of his work going, I stop and help him. If the Randolph PTA needs volunteers to help with outdoor Food Pantry distribution on Friday afternoons, I step up. When an email asks for help in printing and distributing flyers for the Arlington Community Coalition in an effort to reach elderly neighbors and shut-ins, that's what I do.

There is no rhythm to my days anymore. Just trial and error. Ebb and flow. The lines between home and work are blurry, but my vision is getting clearer.

The Secret Garden Getaway

Today before opening a single email, I snuck away to one of my happy places: Merrifield Garden Center. My neighbor went, too.

As we strolled among the hellebores and huchera, making plans for front porch pots, the wax begonias several aisles over caught our eye. Shades of screaming yellow and tantilizing tangerine will be perfect with my neighbor's newly painted front door, a turquoise color her husband still hates. But that's okay because they are moving soon.

Next we wandered through the hoards of azaleas and rhododendrens, eventually locating my favorite Coral Bell pinks and Hershey reds. We hemmed and hawed over a suitable replacement for the empty space that will be left in my neighbor's front corner when I adopt her prized gardenia. A laurel, perhaps? Or should we play it safe with another azelea?

Finally some mouse ear mini-hostas and a couple of creeping geraniums to fill in areas of her yard that still "need something". Then we were done. Between us we brought home several azaleas, two rolls of sod, four perennials, six annuals and considerable peace of mind. Because in the midst of packing and staging and staving off a novel virus, gardens must go on.

Technology Truce

Today I participated in three varieties of virtual engagement: WebEx, Zoom and MS Teams. This is something I never would have even considered trying a month ago. Technology, for me, is a means to an end. Furthermore, as previously noted on March 2, 2020, technology is not my friend. Rather, we coexist uneasily. And yet, I just asked my daughter’s help in linking back to my earlier post about technology. Hmmm... I did?!

In our school district we did not wait for our central office staff to train us properly. We did not call the first week Unused Snow Days and the second week Spring Break. We did not wait for our union to work out particulars about equitable access with VDOE. (There is no union.) Instead, we took what we had in place, and we all dove in to the morass of online learning. That learning goes both ways, make no mistake. Teachers are Zooming to share technology hacks and ask questions about how to better connect with their students through different platforms, using different apps.. Are we reaching all students? Not yet.

In this brave new world of online teaching and learning we are suddenly leaders, and our administrators and school board are proud of what we are doing. Do I have it all figured out? Not at all. Am I learning as I go? Yes I am. Do I now depend on the support of my colleagues and the wonder of technology every single day of my workweek no matter what I am doing? Why yes. Yes I do. To my daughter: thanks for the assist. Ever onward!

Graduation Postponed

A friend recently pointed out that our 18 year olds were either already born, or in the womb, when 9/11 occurred. Now they are reaching adulthood during the Coronavirus pandemic. This realization got me thinking about the forces that have shaped our GenZennials.

Not only has their childhood been framed by these two unprecedented and devastating events, but it has also been partly sabotaged with greater concerns for safety and over-scheduling by helicopter parents, an onslaught of standardized testing in the wake of the No Child Left Behind legislation from 2002-2015, as well as Nature Deficit Disorder, introduced in The Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv. Worst of all, their formative years have been shadowed by the abrasive social and political divisions that festered during the Obama presidency, and now flourish under Trump.

No wonder these technological wizards found solace in their electronic devices, social media and gaming platforms as young teenagers. That is the only arena where they have had some control over their lives, and an escape from their anxiety-ridden adolescence. These folks are beyond resilient, and we owe them our utmost respect and admiration, if not a proper send-off.

Dear Mom

On March 11th my mother's retirement community instituted a no visitors policy. Since I am now unable to visit my mother, I've started writing her little note cards every few days. The nurses have to read them aloud to her because she is no longer reading on her own, but the mail brightens her day and provides momentary topics of conversation.

Grammie Moyer's weekly letters to Mom were legendary: routinized rundowns of her week's goings-on, often with excruciating (for a grandkid) detail, and almost always back and front of one unlined sheet from a 9 x 6 inch writing pad. Mom sent the same weekly tag-ups to her mother as well. Phone calls were rare in those days because of the expense.

While away at college and beyond, I would receive regular, though not weekly, letters from my own mother. I'm pretty sure I hardly ever wrote back. I was more inclined to call in response, and the calls were always appreciated. But now that dementia has progressed, verbal communication is more difficult and often nonsensical. Thankfully, the thrill of receiving mail endures!

Going on a Bear Hunt

This morning on my neighborhood listserv was the following message:

Hi - 

A friend told us about his activity inspired by the book We're Going on a Bear Hunt and my kids are excited about the idea.

If you'd like to participate, put a teddy bear in a window of your house or in the front yard or some other creative easily seen but not easily touched spot. If you want to participate and don't have a teddy bear, make a bear sign and hang it in your window instead! Then as families take walks through the 'hood they can look for bears. Maybe there would be a way to share pics of spotted bears?

Our bears are getting set up now. We hope others will join in!

(Neighbor Mom/Teacher)
S. Pollard Street


In the time that I've been outside mowing and on my front porch transplanting tomato babies, more than fifty enthusiastic replies to this idea have queued up in my inbox. Responses include:

We're in on S. Nelson!
Winter bear chillen' on a chair at S. 16th & Oakland.
Small menagerie on S. Stafford!
We're embracing diversity and may include other stuffed animals besides bears.
Tigger is now keeping watch over S. 16th Street.
Don't forget the townhouses on S. 12th Street!
There are several bears hanging out in the dogwood tree at...

and so on it goes.

Here's hoping all the little ones in the neighborhood have a fabulous time finding bears and other creatures on their longer-than-usual walks this afternoon.

Sharing Refuge

Today I took refuge in the school garden for almost seven hours. I got into my zone, went at my own pace, and accomplished a few things. It felt good. It also got me out of the house and gave my family a break from me, and me from them. We love each other, we even like each other, but a little extra space never hurts.

While I was winding down my work, a mother showed up with her two youngsters. I'm guessing that the boy was seven and the girl was five. Their excitement about trimming the broccolini strands and munching them by the fistful was surpassed only by their enthusiasm for digging up several long, thin radishes which they planned to enjoy crunching later with butter and salt. Dandelion leaves rounded out the mom's bike basket cargo salad. But before they pedaled away they insisted on doing a little weeding in the strawberry bed, and they were beyond delighted when I suggested putting some sunflower seeds into the ground over near the asparagus patch.

As tough as it is for most of us to be at home day after day, I realize that many parents of young children have an extra challenge before them. I was struck by how expertly this mother fed her kids' wonder, gave them time to explore, and gently taught them to run up and down the rows instead of across them. As we said our goodbyes, I assured Mom that they are always welcome to stop by and share my garden refuge.

Eleventh Hour Delivery

This afternoon I volunteered to help with food distribution at the Randolph ES Open Pantry, outdoor edition. Folding tables stretched across the portico of the school front so that those driving by would know the pantry was open, even if the school was closed. This longstanding tradition in one of Arlington's poorest schools continues to help families in these dire times.

Offerings included:

• fresh citrus donated by the canceled NW Arlington Lyons Club annual fundraiser
• boxes of cereal, pasta, and mac'n cheese
• bags of rice or dried lentils
• cans of beans, every variety
• jars of tomato sauce
• six packs of applesauce and other fruit cups
• cheese sticks donated by the canceled Girls on the Run event
• yogurts
• individual cereal bars, 

and more besides.

Around 5:30pm, just as table supplies had mostly dwindled, who should appear but a family with two toddler boys, one pushing and the other pulling a little red wagon overflowing with more food to donate. Delighted recipients waited patiently as these excited little guys unloaded their wares and put each bag or box on the table where it belonged. My heart felt full. Hours later, it still does.

Just Breathe

All day I’ve been consumed by worry and paralyzed with fear. 

I’ve written three different blog posts and deleted them all. So I think that, for now, I’ll just breathe.

And try again tomorrow.

Open at Your Own Risk

“Where are the capers?” I asked, before my husband escaped back upstairs to his telecommuting bunker. Since the smoked salmon and the schmear were already out on the counter, half my battle was won.

“Somewhere on the top shelf. Good luck!” he replied, over his shoulder.

The fridge is full. Perilously full. To negotiate room for last night’s rotisserie chicken, we had to finish the container of vegetarian chili first. To locate the capers I had to remove the salsa, the bread and butter pickles and the milk bottle before I could reach in behind the chicken and know, by the squat jar size, that victory was mine.

Typically when the fridge is this full we are preparing to entertain, or we’ve just had a major holiday meal. Or perhaps someone has baked a cake that needs refrigeration, or maybe an extra large batch of ratatouille. That is not what is happening here now. We are in stock-for-the-ages mode, with several bags full of nonperishables on the enclosed porch and a freezer full of mini bagels, frozen veggies and chicken tenders in the basement.

Until we make some headway on this inventory, be advised: Open at your own risk!

The Twilight Zone

I'm going to be completely honest. The emails that rolled in all day yesterday freaked me out more than a bit. Groups to join. Content CLTs to schedule and "attend" weekly. Everybody sharing resources for online instruction. Expectations galore. I do realize we need to work for our keep, but for someone as technology-averse and people-preferring as myself this is going to be very challenging.

That said, I think our administrators are just trying to put the wheels in motion as best they can. Yesterday afternoon when I popped into the building for the last time, I found the entire admin team in the school library spread out among the the tables in what seemed to me to be the perfect compromise between social distance and face time. Seeing them together in that command center gave me strange comfort.

One AP walked me down to a colleague's room to retrieve some plants that weren't going to survive on their own, including newly seeded ones that her students had recently planted. I turned off the light table in the corner, grabbed the Lysol and the Purrell from the desk, as she'd instructed, and we headed back down the spine of the once-familiar building with two arm loads of salvaged greenery. We passed the head custodian in his face mask, but not one other living soul.

It was only as we approached the sunlit lobby that I realized how eerily dim the rest of the building had been, like a distant memory or a dream you're awakened from abruptly. Relieved to be back outside, I drove off wondering when we will all be together again and how we are going to navigate this twilight zone.

Somewhere In Between

Today I am reminded of a favorite A.A. Milne poem titled Halfway Down, written from the perspective of a child who has found a particular step that isn't upstairs or downstairs, but somewhere all its own. I often carry that poem on Poem in Your Pocket Day, (April 30th this year) because middle school is one of those places. 

Sixth graders come to us as children, some with more innocence than others. By the end of eighth grade not only are they physically larger than their sixth grade selves, but also they have grown a lifetime inside and they are ready to take on the world, or at least high school. On any given day middle schoolers can be children or young adults, or both, like a pendulum swinging back and forth continually.

But right now, in this moment and place, that poem has another meaning to me. This is uncharted territory. This place of waiting, wondering, doubting or fearing on a daily basis has new rules and expectations. We are not yet up or down, healthy or sick, but somewhere in between.


Halfway Down
by A.A. Milne

Halfway down

is a stair

where i sit.

there isn't any

other stair

quite like

it.

i'm not at the bottom,

i'm not at the top;

so this is the stair

where

I always

stop.

Halfway up the stairs

Isn't up

And it isn't down.

It isn't in the nursery,

It isn't in town.

And all sorts of funny thoughts

Run round my head.

It isn't really

Anywhere!

It's somewhere else

Instead!

Clean Feet

When last we connected, I was about to settle into a long afternoon nap with my cozy cat. But then I realized that my feet were still dirty from the garden. Despite over-the-ankle socks, shoes and long pants, the dirt always seems to find its way to my feet, and especially in between my toes. Gardens are dirty places.

But the thing is... I can’t fall asleep with dirty feet!

I can sleep with hair that should have been washed yesterday. Or a face that was only warm wiped and not scrubbed. I’ve even been known to fall asleep without brushing my teeth or taking my pills. 

But I can’t fall asleep with dirty feet!

I can fall asleep mid-page, or mid-utterance. I can fall asleep with people in the room or the TV tuned to SNL. I can even fall asleep with all the lights on and the doors unlocked, which happens when my husband is on travel.

But guess what? That’s right. I can’t fall asleep with dirty feet! 

So I headed down to the basement utility sink to rectify the situation. First one foot, up and over and into the warm soapy tub. Then rinsed, toweled dry and nestled into the slip-on. Other foot, up and over... Bliss! I was asleep in no time, Sweet Kitty Girl tucked between my legs, stretching herself all the way to my clean feet.

Zzzzzz....

Social Distancing

While spending three hours this morning in a 40x60 foot outdoor space, I was never closer than six feet to either of my fellow garden toilers. I am now home reading about all the places we should not be going for the next two weeks.

No restaurants; order in or cook.
No movie theaters; streaming instead.
No parties or play dates; enjoy your family.
No shopping malls; shop online.
No museums. No plays.
No dances. No night clubs.
No school. No church. No clubs. No meetings.

Let’s all practice being introverts! Bring out the puzzles, the board games, the novels, and the home projects. Find those old embroidery kits, or your knitting needles. Remember how you used to paint? Call long lost relatives or a favorite old friend. Tackle that kitchen drawer. Snooze with your pets.

Here comes my cozy cat, right on cue.

Safe Places

I've been feeling guilty about not going to my deep water aerobics class this week. My gut tells me to stay away from places that are crowded. The locker room, a perfect breeding ground, is especially daunting. In the weeks to come we are all going to need some safe places where we can go to get out of our homes. I'm starting a list of safe places.

My back yard is an instant refuge. I have Siberian Iris to dig up, separate, and replant. (Some will go to the school garden.) I have grass seed to mix with top soil and spread to fill in the spots that did not come back so far this Spring. I have my raised tomato bed to prepare. The hammock to bring out of the shed and reassemble.

The school garden is a never-ending collection of tasks and chores that are gratifying because it is a Plot Against Hunger, providing food to our local food pantry. I have six cabbage plants from the AFAC Kickoff last Saturday to plant, three white and three red. I have weeding along established rows. Mulching over cardboard that I just replenished yesterday.

Ft. Bernard Community Garden is right in our neighborhood. I have at least two friends with garden plots there. Other, older gardeners may need assistance, especially if they are not leaving their homes.

The bike trails are an outlet for aerobic exercise. They are also a way to run errands. Can bikes work as much-needed outings with friends if we all stay on our bikes or keep social distance? Hiking trails are another good option, and Spring is the perfect time to get out in the woods.

However the safest place of all may be our online writing community space. Guess I’ll see you all there!

Planning for the Inevitable

All core content teachers received two additional planning periods today while our admin team set up camp in the auditorium with two periods each of first 8th graders, then 7th graders and finally 6th graders. They gave us the gift of having time to prepare online lessons and establish priorities within our grade-level content planning groups. While at it, time to stoke and quell our fears, time to place our bets on when we’ll go out, and time to enjoy our valued colleagues.

Our school admin gets it.

Meanwhile, at home, I am resisting the urge to hoard. This means I am fatalistically trusting that supply lines for essential goods will remain open so that one of us will be healthy enough to retrieve what we absolutely need, unless Amazon can deliver it to our front stoop. On my neighborhood listserv there are already offers of help to the elderly and housebound among us, along with pledges of help from those of us who are able bodied and ready to assist with errands and household chores.

My neighborhood gets it.

The retirement home sent out a missive yesterday declaring all family and friend visitation off-limits as they hunker down and prepare to shutter for the duration of this virus. I applaud their decision, even if it means that my visits with Mom are off for the short term (unless she becomes terminally ill, at which point I will be allowed to go be with her). She turns 94 in May. If we all do this right, I will be there to celebrate with her.

The retirement home gets it.

Several hours ago, Governor Hogan of Maryland canceled all public schools for March 16th-27th. Will our governor, or local officials, follow suit?

Does APS get it? That remains to be seen.

Spring Break Roller Coaster

My daughter had originally signed up for a Spring Break trip to Greece with her art teacher and a handful of other students. At 18, this would have been her first overseas adventure ever. A week ago that trip was canceled because of the cruise ship that was to take them from island to island. Cruise ships are no place to be in the wake of Covid-19. However, the art teacher continued to work with the representative from the educational travel company to develop a new trip, closer to home. She emphasized that the new trip should include as many “cultural experiences” as possible.

Highlights of the new trip to Costa Rica - announced yesterday - include a craft workshop, a cooking lesson, a dance workshop, a horseback trail ride, a canopy tour with hanging bridges and zip line, beach time on the Pacific Coast and a visit with Costa Rican students. Sounds like a great trip, and it’s easy to get excited about it. But with the excitement comes all the questions. “Will THIS trip get canceled too? What if we get sick, or take the coronavirus with us? Shall I change the focus of my Senior Project AGAIN? Or stick with my original back-up plan?”

Up and down and all around we go. Living with uncertain excitement and dread. I just keep reminding her that we are all in this together, and it’s okay to throw up our hands and scream if we have to.

Ode to a Favorite Old Shirt

Torn at the collar, thin worn sleeves pushed to elbows... my threadbare old friend.

What is it about a favorite old shirt that keeps us from knowing when its time has come? Soft and faded, full of memories and sagging perfectly, this old gal cannot leave home anymore unless she is headed for the mulch pile or the open trail. I’ll throw her out when she no longer stays on my shoulders I guess. Or maybe before that if I happen on a replacement.

There were others along the way. A deep burgundy St. John's Bay fleece from my MIL that I buried with first cat, Waldo. A thin red flannel keeper from my Toronto years with tiny tan and black boats. (That one had become merely a memento in the closet long before I finally cut ties.) Another flannel, sage green with small tan leaves, suddenly stopped bringing me joy so I tossed her on the To Go pile with self-satisfaction.

But this one is my first-ever Shenandoah National Park tee, all cotton and the perfect blue. Maybe I’ll just keep her for a little while longer.

Giving Her Credit

This is my post for International Women's Day, one day late.

My daughter is more woke, politically, than I am. I continue to learn a lot from her insight and her candor, even if her choice of words sometimes startles me. But there are a number of practical things she has taught me as well, most recently these two little gems:

1. When I turn the key to unlock the 20 year old Nissan, that she now drives, turning it twice in the same direction unlocks the passenger and back seat doors as well. I never knew that.

2. If you push the 30 second button on our kitchen microwave repeatedly, you can get one minute, one and a half minutes, and so on. Wow! Really? News to me!

In addition, she has taught me numerous tricks to use with the iPhone and the Mac as well as some social media etiquette. I haven’t always been open to what she has to teach me. But I’m learning to respect her experience that is unique to being a female growing up in this time and this place. She knows and understands more than I give her credit for, and I am finally learning to sometimes follow her lead.

Let’s give all women in our lives the credit they deserve!

Down and Across

On Sundays during the school year it helps to be around and visible to my family. Besides, it’s laundry day. “Around” can mean stationed at the kitchen counter doing the weekly Wapo Magazine crossword in between loads, folding laundry in front of a baseball game on MASN, or puttering outside in the garden. Since baseball season is not quite here, and I’m caught up for the moment outside, today I’m tackling the crossword before I go for a walk with my daughter and the neighbor’s dogs.

Clues on my phone are off limits except for a celebrity or a brand. I don’t hold myself accountable for those. If I’m having trouble with one section of the puzzle, I switch to a different section for awhile. In general, over time, I have found that Down clues are often easier for me than Across clues. I have no idea why, but I will often bolster my game with the down clues first. The puzzle from two weeks ago was easier than most. Last week’s still haunts me, but I’m sticking with it before going on to this week’s. Every now and then I have to pass a puzzle over to my better-read spouse with his gargantuan vocabulary. (He’s been known to do them in one sitting.)

What I mainly love about Sundays, besides sticking close to home, puttering in my yard, putting laundry behind me for another week or challenging my brain, is that feeling just before another work week begins. Standing on the precipice before jumping. Looking around to admire the view. Taking a moment to slow down, take deep breaths, and reminding myself to enjoy the here and now.

Licking the Stamps

At dinner this evening my spouse and I were reminiscing about S&H Green Stamps. I remember how they would shoot out of a machine in the grocery store check out line, like coins from a slot machine; and I remember how annoyed Mom would be if you picked up groceries on the way home but forgot to get the green stamps. My spouse remembers that his grandma would save them up all year long until he and his brothers came to visit in the summer, so that they could lick the strips and arrange them in the half-sized paper books filled with columns for the different stamp amounts. (Their tongues, though!)

These trading stamps were then exchanged for merchandise in a little store front: mostly kitchen and household items running the gamut from counter top appliances to wet vacs and luggage. This was long before the Internet or Amazon, and well before Bed Bath & Beyond or big box stores like Walmart, Target, and Costco. S&H were not the only brand of trading stamps, but they were a pioneering precursor to all of the incentive and loyalty programs we have now in the form of member cards to swipe or telephone numbers to verify. Trading stamps added a little spice to a homemaker’s life in the 1960s and 70s.

For me these days its all about the gas points. I gave up on clipping and organizing coupons when I returned to work full time, except for Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons. Not the 20% off one item kind, but the spend $15 get $5 off kind. (Did you know some BB&Bs have toiletries?!) I was raised by parents who lived through the Great Depression as children, so the thrill of saving a little here and there is stuck tight to my DNA. 

Any Way You Slice It

In between Student-Led Conferences, today, I’ve been trying to write through my total lack of inspiration for Blog Post #6, and I’ve been getting NOWHERE. When this happens to our students they invariably lapse into dull play-by-play accounts of their day thus far until they get to 100 words. I’m planning to address with them the difference between play-by-play accounts and slices of life. But first I need to clarify that difference for myself, and come up with some strategies for turning a play-by-play into a slice.

Strategy #1 Agree on the given that everyone brushes their teeth after they wake up in the morning. 

Focus on the toothpaste instead. What brand, what flavor, paste or gel? Bottom roller or top squeezer? Flosser, yes or no; waxed or unwaxed? Mouthwash or breath mints? (See the potential for sensory detail?)

Strategy #2 Point out that if they are sitting in the classroom with us today, we already know that they came to school.

Focus on the journey instead. Bus, car, bike, skateboard or legs? Cool breeze, biting rain, or heavy air? Stray dog, chirping bird, sidewalk worm or fresh-mown grass? (See the potential for sensory detail?)

Strategy #3 Locate just the right clip of Seinfeld in order to show how everyday nothing can become uniquely something, with just the right slice.

Embracing the Process

What good is a map if you don’t know how to use it?

What good are the hands of the clock on the wall if you only know digital time?

What good is an open notes test if you can’t read your own handwriting?

Learning to slow things down and help students with the logistics of learning is part of my mission as an EL Resource Teacher. I recently convinced one of my co-teachers that if we are going to allow kids to use their Study Guide for unit tests, we need to teach them HOW to use it. So that’s what we did this morning.

This generation of students is accustomed to using a search bar to find information. With paper resources they need to be able to scan for specific terms. Convincing kids to slow down and go back and forth from screen to paper to screen is also challenging. So many are used to the click, click, click pace of timed video games or adrenaline-laced quizlets. How can we help them embrace the process?

Friends Who Are Green

This time of year I start to get giddy about my seedlings. I usually start oodles of tomato seeds on our enclosed front porch - at first next to a space heater on the floor, then on the wide window sills once the seeds sprout. I get one rush when the sprouts push their tiny heads above the surface of the dirt on translucent trunks, and another rush when the first two opposing leaves form. Their bright green salute signals the start of Spring, for me.

Yesterday, at school, I started some Jalapeños for the school garden. (Most of my tomato babies at home are also intended for the TJMS Community Garden.) At school we have the use of a superfluous light table, though aside from tomatoes and peppers we prefer to sow seeds directly into the garden soil. Tomatoes, cucumbers, summer squashes and melons were plentiful last year. We also grow strawberries, herbs and leafy greens. This year we’d like more peppers. We’re also going to work with the fourth graders next door at Fleet to start several mounds of Three Sisters: corn, beans and squash companion planting like the Iroquois.

While I would still welcome a good blizzard and a half foot of snow (with ensuing snow days), I’m equally anxious for warm sunny days that I can spend outside in the garden.

The Sofa is My Friend

Some of my best nights of sleep happen on the family room sofa on those nights when I just pass out mid-sentence and my family lets me lie there until morning, fully clothed. Sounds pathetic, I know. But last night I slept like a ROCK. No tossing, no turning, no stirring, nothing but deep restorative sleep. These days I will take that wherever and however I can get it.

There is a history of sofa sleepers in my husband’s family, so he gets it. His mom was often a sofa sleeper. So was his elderly aunt, though she now only sleeps in recliners (one in the family room and one in her bedroom in lieu of an actual bed). I remember my eldest brother often falling asleep on the family room sofa when we were teenagers. I also remember coming home from a semester of college and taking up horizontal residence on that same family room sofa for days at a time. My mother was always very supportive of my need for decompression after college semesters.

In my home now, in the downstairs den which we converted to a bedroom for my MIL ten years ago this Spring, remains the twin bed with the luxurious mattress that she picked out for her last months (she was terminally ill when she came to live with us). That bed has become a safe haven for the kids, and sometimes myself. But I always sleep best on the family room sofa.

Technology is Not My Friend

Much to my delight, experienced slicers seem to be looking after us newbies. Somehow my piece from yesterday ended up in the right place. (Thank you Kathleen Sokolowski?) Then, this afternoon, a colleague and longtime slicer reworked my layout so that I have a direct link for the Two Writing Teachers site right in my sidebar! (Thank you, Tracey!) I get by with a little help from my friends.

Speaking of technology... one of our middle school student slicers had the same experience as me getting started with this writing challenge. He somehow lost his original first post for March 1st on the Canvas discussion board, and he had to redo one quickly. In his redo he complained about technology and I could so relate! Every new platform I’ve had to learn in recent years has been a painstaking undertaking.

Please understand that I left for college in 1980 with a manual typewriter that I’d found on the curbside six houses down the street. Two years later I learned Word Star at my part time job with an apartment management company. Three years after that I joined a circle of graphic designers from my Toronto workplace for the long-awaited unveiling of the first Mac 512, though at that time I was still using an IBM Selectrix to type up design proposals for the sales team. I’ve come a long way with technology. It’s just that I started out so very long ago.

When Good Friends Move Away

Today Connie and I filled our van with her detritus and headed for Winchester so that I could see the new house that she and David recently purchased. At the beginning of April their charming Arlington home will go on the market. By the end of May, they will be gone from South Nelson Street.

A week ago I helped Carey pack her trunk, and I hauled away her household hazmats. Three days later she spent her last evening and overnight with us before closing on her condo and boarding the auto train for Florida. Poof! Just like that, she was gone.

Good friends are moving away. I’m mostly feeling excited for them in their new adventures, but also somewhat sad for myself because I will miss the occasional dog walks, the impromptu coffee chats, the planned Haandi lunches and the Mozaic meet-ups. I anticipate more Face Timing or Skyping in the months ahead. But I also anticipate some loneliness.