I Can Do That! (No You Can't)

Have you ever thought, "I can do that!"

--or--

"I can do better than that person!"

Admit it. You have. The following is a list of people who often conjure these thoughts:

1. Retailers (the person who takes forever to ring-up your lone pair of jeans, you can)

2. Retailers (the other person who takes forever to ring-up your lone book, you can)

3. Fast food employees (Seriously, how many buttons must you push to submit an order of a sandwich and fries and why does each button require two pushes? you can)

4. Waiters (why do they disappear when your glass is empty and linger when your glass is full? you can)

5. Professional athletes (you can't, believe me, you can't, just ask Shaq)

6. Teachers (imagine 25-35 faces staring at you, that's 50-70 eyes, waiting for you to say something that keeps them awake, some of you can)

7. Editors (a mountain of manuscripts weighing more than your car, you can't, don't feel bad, neither can I)

8. House Painters (your shoulders and back will throb for days, but you can, you're not creating a mural, it's a house)

9. Doctors (stop lying to yourself, you can't, though there are many bad doctors, there are many good ones.... and the internet, specifically WebMD, is not the answer)

10. Pilots (planes don't fly or land themselves, you can't land it better)

Can you?

or

Can't you?

Reading: The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein ($8.99 at Costco)

On deck: The Magician's Elephant, by Kate DiCamillo ($9 at Costco)

In the hole: Catching Fire ($10 at Costco)

Running: day off today, ran 3 miles on Sunday & Monday, still eating too much, what can I say, I love food.

Writing: revising middle grade novel (going well, over halfway)

Grading: papers stacked to the ceiling, working on that... always.

When You Read Me

I rarely do this, but I'm strongly recommending this book: When You Reach Me, by Rebecca Stead

After reading the last page, your initial reaction might go something like, "Wait. What? What just happened?" This is the kind of story you will want to give a second read. Perhaps even a third or fourth. And Rebecca Stead has made the story accessible enough to do just that.

Read a thoroughly convincing review by a thoroughly convincing reviewer here.

School Days

So we're halfway through week three of school and I'm finally finding my rhythm. There is a certain flow to the year that doesn't settle in until the nervous and jumpy students shake their uncertainties and get comfy in their chairs. It takes awhile for everyone to get used to:

1. getting up early
2. sitting in traffic (there are four schools in one square mile, with many stoplights in between)
3. doing homework (which I loathe giving and receiving)

If it were up to me, school would start at 8:00 am and end at 2:00 pm, with a short lunch break in the middle. Every morning at eight o'clock students and teachers would exercise for an hour. Run, swim, bike, play games, anything physical to get the brain firing on all cylinders. Core classes would start at 9:00 am. Core meaning English, math, history, science, and languages.

At two o'clock students would be dismissed to their specialized classes. Students who excel in art would go to an art class. Students who are into athletics would train or practice or get ready for a game. There would be theaters for actors, studios for musicians, science labs, field trips for historians, think tanks for mathematicians, and, of course, writing workshops. Did I leave anyone out? Oh, right, financial planners and brokers. They would attend "honesty" classes.

The Utopian School is not realisitic, but some schools are getting closer, while others (especially state funded schools that feel pressure to perform on standardized tests) are drifting out to sea with no compass. In those cases, it's up to the teacher to provide much of what's missing from the standardized books.

Kids, like adults, cannot be good at everything, so why do we expect them to be? To make straight A's in a decently challenging school is quite an accomplishment. It takes effort, drive, and smarts. Not to mention, supportive parents, understanding peers, and a little luck. But let's be honest, how many adults can recount the details of major historical events, solve quadratic equations, formulate chemical ingenuity, and write a novel that's worth a damn. Not many. And those who can do all this usually end up in some kind of place with padded walls.

Schools need to change. Humans weren't designed to sit in desks all day. We were designed to be out doing stuff.

Recognizing and promoting the talents and interests of young students could go a long way in improving our nation's productivity and prosperity.

I'm just saying.

Nagging Me

One of my sixth grade students (girl) wrote this poem and turned it in for extra credit. Simple yet clever.

Summer is a dear friend of mine,

It's so free, and it's so kind,

But yet there's something nagging me,

A place where I need to be,

A place where people learn the rules,

I've realized that this place is school,

The bell has rung, I'm in my seat,

But yet there's something nagging me,

A place where I would rather be...

SUMMER!

Steady It Goes

Today was the second day of school and I'm exhausted. The first two days have flown by. If that's any sign of what's to come, the year will be over before I can explain the difference between phrases and clauses. Right. I wish. The beginning always flies by and then the adrenaline wears off and the novelty of a new year plummets like the 2008 stock market. But that's okay. I was a baseball player, and in baseball, the ultimate game of failure, you have to stay steady, somewhere in the middle, not too high or too low.

Teaching is kind of the same. Baseball is a long season, a grind of sorts, and school can be similar. Pretty soon it will be dark in the morning when I flip on the classroom lights, and it will be dark in the early evening when I turn them off to leave. That's when it starts to get tough. The days get shorter but somehow seem to last longer. That's what I mean by staying steady, in the middle, level-headed, pacing yourself. Whatever you want to call it. When you teach kids on the verge of pubescence, you have no choice but to stay somewhere in the middle. If you don't, your gas tank will read empty in February, and then you still have three and a half months left in the season.

This year's sixth graders are interesting. 100 students total. 40 new ones, which is typical, since sixth grade is a main entry level to the school. Right now we're discussing summer reading. Under the Blood-Red Sun, by Graham Salisbury. The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman. The jury is still out on The Graveyard Book. I've heard mixed reactions. The number one reaction so far is that the book is confusing in parts. I would agree. The story walks the line between black and white, living and dead, which results in a cloud of grey at times. I'm keeping my eyes peeled for other summer reading candidates for next year's sixth graders. I want to read When You Reach Me, by Rebecca Stead, because I think it could be a strong candidate from what I'm hearing. Never know.

Tonight I'm off to the Dave Matthews Band concert at the Greek Theater. Long night ahead. Lighter schedule tomorrow. Steady I go. Steady I be. Steady's my middle name. Steady Eddie. Steady Freddie. Ready. Set. Steady.