Playing Hooky

A midday follow-up dental appointment on a 70 degree day screams, “Don’t go back to school!”

Having anticipated this scenario, and being a mostly responsible sort, I pre-arranged my ditching so as not to raise any eyebrows or concern. [Flashback to senior year of high school when BFF and I regularly ditched last period Study Hall in favor of General Hospital and learning to drink coffee before college, then lied outright to school authorities the next morning. What were we thinking?!]

I hit Merrifield, Meadows Farm, and Costco in rapid succession, grabbing grass seed, Hollytone, several kinds of enticing native plants in smaller (cheaper) pots; then finally a truck-bed load of organic garden soil bags for the school garden along with three packs of pristine garden gloves in two sizes. All of this while being mostly outside on a blue-sky, no-clouds afternoon. 

Each beggar on every median strip I passed got cash today, too. Why shouldn’t generosity be the price of playing hooky?!

A Morning Stroll

Yesterday I joined an old friend for a walk at Green Spring Gardens. My friend brought her three-month-old puppy, Josie, along. Puppies and pansies are not a great mix, so instead of staying alongside the manicured garden beds, we headed for the trail through the woods.

The woods trail emerged into a clearing where there is a man-made pond. I’m pretty sure this puppy had never seen mallard ducks before. Her body language betrayed both fascination and caution: wiggly pulls on the leash, followed by doubling back behind her human and peaking out from behind, ears pointed forward. 

We continued on until we came upon two Canadian geese a little further out from the pond’s edge. Josie took no notice of the geese as a leashed dog twice her size headed towards us on the path. This was one of several older “friends” she greeted playfully, but respectfully, that morning. 

Quick to sniff noses and rise on back legs to gently paw at her acquaintances, Josie also got low, rolled on her back, and showed appropriate deference to her elders. This pro-social canine behavior was well received on all three occasions. Very impressive for such a young gal, I thought.

Our final brush with wild pond life was the bale of turtles sunning on the far bank of the pond. Moments after we noticed them, the sun ducked behind a cloud and all but one of the eight or nine sunbathers slid backwards into the water. Pretty sure Grandpa Turtle must have been snoozing to have missed the “okay everyone: at the count of three we’re back in the water”.

Typically I head to Green Spring Gardens for the flora. But today was all about the fauna.         

Frequent Flyers

This is the time of the year the hallways are ripe with students, especially 8th graders. As Spring approaches, but Spring Break remains weeks away, our eldest middle schoolers become our most restless souls. They are done with childish ways, and ready to move on to a bigger building that allows more free agency.

In an 8th Grade Level teacher meeting two weeks ago the conversation turned to these students.

“Where are they all going?” an administrator asked.

“… to the clinic for a bandaid and ice… to see a counselor or Mr. Siegel…they’ve left their iPad here, or their hoodie there,” we all chimed in. It never ends: this maneuvering and manipulation of the escape artist in our charge.

“What shall we do to keep them in class?” asked one frustrated Pre-Algebra teacher. “We can’t deny them the bathroom!”

“Let’s make a list of students who most often ask to leave class,” suggested a colleague. “Then we’ll limit how long they can be gone from class, or how often they can ask to leave each day.”

“That sounds like a lot of record keeping,” another team member pointed out.

At least they are on our radar now, and we are doing what we can to keep them in class longer. We are trying to keep them engaged, if not belted in, as teenaged turbulence sets in.

Revolving Door Day

“May I go to the bathroom,” said the student, five minutes into Civics 7 today.

“If you go to the bathroom now, you’ll miss my class,” Mr. Moore pointed out. It’s true. He was not being hyperbolic. Classes today are literally 20 minutes each because it’s an Anchor Day schedule on an Early Closing Wednesday.

As the only EL Resource Teacher for my school, I span all three grade levels in the course of one Anchor Day. I’m flying around school, hither and yon, at breakneck speed, on days like this. Sometimes I forget where I’m going, or where I’ve been.

Round and round I go. Where I stop…

Birds of a Feather

“Ladies, I’ve been in my pajamas all weekend. What did I miss?” was my late afternoon text to my neighbors who are fellow gardeners. 

The three of us are sharing the first of several leaf mulch piles, along with our love of gardening, a bit more intensely these tender days. Kate and I realize that Lisa is at sea since the death of her beloved, from cancer, in early February. Our hope is to ground her with a series of garden-related activities and regular check-ins this Spring. 

Turns out I missed snow, cold and binge watching The Last Kingdom, on Lisa’s end. The Good Fight, when not falling asleep by 9:00pm in a toddler’s bed, has been Kate’s recent routine. Here’s hoping that the longer daylight hours will find us flocking to the mulch pile once again very soon.

Pajama Days

Last Saturday I missed writing from sheer busy-ness. Yesterday I missed writing from sheer lazy-ness. Oh well. Maybe this March I am just taking Saturdays off. So be it. Everyone needs a reprieve now and then, a Pajama Day. Yesterday was mine. (Though somehow, it has bled into today.)

Pajama Days are essential to my overall well-being and occur about once a month. Sometimes twice a month during the winter. Laundry and household chores can still happen during pajama days, but leaving the house is obviously not part of the Pajama Day plan. Hunkering down like this is how I renew myself, even though I may appear to people in my public life as more of an extrovert. But the truth is, I am not. Not anymore.

My self-appointed days of leisure wear still involve a certain amount of purposeful activity: Chinese Eggplant seeds, started. Last of Spring seeds, in the queue. Cat litter, changed. Socks and cotton t-shirt restock for the menfolk, ordered. Daughter's bedroom, restored to order before her departure (mostly, and by her). 

The sunlight now beckons, and temperatures have rebounded. So I think it may finally be time to don actual clothing.

Arms All Akimbo

Some days I feel like an Octopus with my reach extending in multiple directions around the school all at once.

There are currently eight classes I am part of  throughout the week, some of them I attend only 2-3 times a week, but one of them is now daily. Although I am not the "teacher of record" in any of my classes, there are students who depend on seeing me in each class. Some students I work closely with, and some I mostly just touch base with because they are trying to be more independent at this point in the school year. These are my caseload kids. But beyond them are others I've also worked with regularly and bonded with over time.

Today one of my arms was reaching out to a newer TA student who may be falling into the work avoidance trap. At least I believe that may be what's happening. A couple other arms were trying to reach students with overdue summative assignments in their ELD 4 Reading class because the long term sub is concerned and not quite sure what to do. These "deep dives" are so necessary at this point in the school year when Spring Break is coming, but still a whole month away. The students feel it. The teachers feels it. We are all turning into slugs.

Two more arms were organizing seed packets, pots, potting trays, soil, and procedures for ELD classes preparing to plant next week, while a few fingers of another arm were texting about a donated light table coming our way just in time. These same fingers were also contacting local high school plant sale organizers about leftover donations to the TJMS Community Garden.

That's six arms so far. Perfect, because I needed the last two arms to hold up pencils for the two Reading Buddies sign-in sheets on adjoining doors to classrooms where we convene at the end of the school day before going over to Fleet ES next door to read with second graders. Two classrooms so that the calmer kids can have the decompression time they need on a Friday afternoon, while the ultra-social sixth graders can bounce off the walls and expend excess energy right next door.

Time to take all my arms home and look for four pair of gardening gloves, because now it's my time to decompress.