Tuesday, May 1, 2012
An Ode to FruitShare
Not really, because poetry is something I don't dabble in. But I need to voice my love for this organization. Every two weeks we get a box of fresh, organic fruit delivered to our door. All the fruit comes from small farms and comes with little stories about life on that particular farm. Last delivery was turned into the most amazing avacado-pineapple-mango salsa I ever did have. I could try to replicate with fruit from the grocery store, but the quality just can not be matched and you taste that. This week it was a mixed box of strawberries, avacados, citrus, kiwis, and apples. So far I've only dug into the strawberries and they were so packed with flavor I have vowed, at least for a while, to never buy a strawberry at a store again. I can't wait til strawberry picking season begins. My freezer is empty and awaits the restocking season to begin! http://www.fruitshare.com/
The Joys of Working with Teens
I love my job. Partly because I work with an incredible team of professionals. We are a co-op, so we are our own bosses, and we treat each other well, have high expectations, and know how to have fun. What more could you ask for in a boss? But the other reason I love my job is I love the teenage mind. With all its weird logic patterns and inconsistencies. Here are two recent situations that made me laugh:
We start every morning at Avalon with an advisory check-in. I share an advisory with Carrie, my job-share partner. We have 21 kids in grades 9 through 12. We will have these kids their entire Avalon high school careers, so we get to know them well. The check-ins range from serious social issues to something such as "What was your best Halloween costume ever?" This week is Service Week, where all 'normal' learning (and normal is extremely relative at Avalon) is suspended and each advisory undertakes a week long service learning project. Our advisory is working with the St. Paul Park system, doing some gardening and other clean-up. So we started the week with a check-in about parks. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: Ok, how about for a check-in...What is your favorite park?
Student: No! How about what's the weirdest thing you have ever found at a park?
Advisory: yes! No! favorite park! Weirdest thing!
A debate breaks out, which actually, I love. They are engaged and energized. But then...
Carrie: No- favorite park. I don't think I want to know what kind of weird things you have found.
A student eagerly raises his hand to start the check-in:
Student A: A baggie full of toe nail clippings!
Carrie: Wait- it was your favorite park! Not weirdest thing!
Me: Wait! Why would anyone put their toe nail clippings in a baggy while they are in a park? But let's get back to favorite park.
Student B: Ok, I have a favorite park. Three bottles of urine!
A chorus breaks out: Ha! What? How did you know they were urine? Smell test? Taste test?
Me: Wait! Why would someone bottle up their urine in a park? Isn't that one place you could probably just let it go...
Student: Hoarders, Gretchen, hoarders.
Eventually the conversation does come back around to favorite parks- and they have some nice ones, from the corner park with a wicked playset to Glacier. All in all, that 20 minutes of advisory check-in time is some precious moments. Seriously. I love the window into the teenage head. And soul.
The second conversation happened after I had busted two of my senior guys coming back late from Open Lunch- a privilege they currently were not supposed to be enjoying, it having been revoked for issues earlier in the week. These two guys are great kids, but seniors, and close to the end, and feeling the need to stretch their legs a bit. But I busted them and I was pretty frustrated with the amount of time I was needing to spend re-directing them that week.
Me: Guys. This is getting really old. I am moving beyond frustrated.
They offered some excuses, which even they knew were lame and we went back and forth for a while. It started getting a little tense. Then:
Senior 1: Wait. Gretchen. If you could do what you would like to do to us right now, would you get fired?
Me: Good question. Yes.
Senior 2: What would you like to do?
Me: Well. You asked, so....
And I told them. But I don't think I want to put that in print. It wasn't outrageous, just honest. And they laughed and realized how close to the end of my rope I actually was. Their attitudes changed, I got something that seemed real close to an honest apology and we all went about our day with smiles.
I think in a different high school setting, that convo with those boys could have escalated into a stupid power struggle which would have gotten us all nowhere. But since I have known these fools for years and I do respect them and trust them and know that they do make good choices 90% of the time, we were able to get to a place where we all understood each other and figured out how to keep working with each other. At least for the time being. Still five weeks to go. Hoping I never have to do what I told them I wanted to do. Cause I would get fired. Which in my case would mean I'd have to help fire myself. And I would.
We start every morning at Avalon with an advisory check-in. I share an advisory with Carrie, my job-share partner. We have 21 kids in grades 9 through 12. We will have these kids their entire Avalon high school careers, so we get to know them well. The check-ins range from serious social issues to something such as "What was your best Halloween costume ever?" This week is Service Week, where all 'normal' learning (and normal is extremely relative at Avalon) is suspended and each advisory undertakes a week long service learning project. Our advisory is working with the St. Paul Park system, doing some gardening and other clean-up. So we started the week with a check-in about parks. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: Ok, how about for a check-in...What is your favorite park?
Student: No! How about what's the weirdest thing you have ever found at a park?
Advisory: yes! No! favorite park! Weirdest thing!
A debate breaks out, which actually, I love. They are engaged and energized. But then...
Carrie: No- favorite park. I don't think I want to know what kind of weird things you have found.
A student eagerly raises his hand to start the check-in:
Student A: A baggie full of toe nail clippings!
Carrie: Wait- it was your favorite park! Not weirdest thing!
Me: Wait! Why would anyone put their toe nail clippings in a baggy while they are in a park? But let's get back to favorite park.
Student B: Ok, I have a favorite park. Three bottles of urine!
A chorus breaks out: Ha! What? How did you know they were urine? Smell test? Taste test?
Me: Wait! Why would someone bottle up their urine in a park? Isn't that one place you could probably just let it go...
Student: Hoarders, Gretchen, hoarders.
Eventually the conversation does come back around to favorite parks- and they have some nice ones, from the corner park with a wicked playset to Glacier. All in all, that 20 minutes of advisory check-in time is some precious moments. Seriously. I love the window into the teenage head. And soul.
The second conversation happened after I had busted two of my senior guys coming back late from Open Lunch- a privilege they currently were not supposed to be enjoying, it having been revoked for issues earlier in the week. These two guys are great kids, but seniors, and close to the end, and feeling the need to stretch their legs a bit. But I busted them and I was pretty frustrated with the amount of time I was needing to spend re-directing them that week.
Me: Guys. This is getting really old. I am moving beyond frustrated.
They offered some excuses, which even they knew were lame and we went back and forth for a while. It started getting a little tense. Then:
Senior 1: Wait. Gretchen. If you could do what you would like to do to us right now, would you get fired?
Me: Good question. Yes.
Senior 2: What would you like to do?
Me: Well. You asked, so....
And I told them. But I don't think I want to put that in print. It wasn't outrageous, just honest. And they laughed and realized how close to the end of my rope I actually was. Their attitudes changed, I got something that seemed real close to an honest apology and we all went about our day with smiles.
I think in a different high school setting, that convo with those boys could have escalated into a stupid power struggle which would have gotten us all nowhere. But since I have known these fools for years and I do respect them and trust them and know that they do make good choices 90% of the time, we were able to get to a place where we all understood each other and figured out how to keep working with each other. At least for the time being. Still five weeks to go. Hoping I never have to do what I told them I wanted to do. Cause I would get fired. Which in my case would mean I'd have to help fire myself. And I would.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Hunger Games Tag
Last year, when we first read The Hunger Games we knew that there would be repercussions. The book was really not appropriate to read with an 8 year old. He was almost 9, but still. The thing was, once we got in far enough to realize that it was not a great idea, we were too far in. We could hardly leave poor Theo there- on the brink before the games. He needed to see what happened to Katniss. So we plowed on. And finished. Book 1. Then books 2 and 3. We had to see that thing through to the end.
And there were repercussions. Some hard questions, some late nights. And some new tag games out in the yard with the neighbor boys. It didn't get violent, really. They just incorporated all the nerf weapons they used anyway into more themed play. They put all the weapons in the center, a la the cornucopia, and started the game with a mad dash to the weapons. Then the melee ensued, as usual. One time, as they were playing, and all the adults were sitting chatting around a fire, one kid did say, "Can we play some other game of tag, instead of the one that hurts?" But he said it as he was running by with a fierce grin on his face, so we didn't intervene. Then kids got busy with summer plans and the games fell off.
Until the release of the movie. I don't know how many of the boys have seen the movie or read the books, but there's such a level of common knowledge, that they're all on board with Hunger Games Tag. I don't know the rules. I don't really want to. I've had some talks with myself about the need to interfere with their play. But so far I haven't. As the screams come through the windows I listen for the ratio of thrill to panic. So far it seems to be running at a ratio of about 70% thrill, 30% fear/panic. And that seems just about right for kids playing outside in the near dark during the golden years of outside game playing. If the panic ratio increases, I'll think about stepping out there. But for now, they are handling it themselves. No tears, no whining, and most importantly, this game seems to be free of any of that "Well, he's breaking the rule! He called a T and he can't call a T because...." I hate that. Maybe the rules are clear enough with this one: Kill or be killed? Not really. They're not killing each other. Just tagging. With nerf swords. And some that are made out of wood. No metal. I should know. We are the ones who own the armory.
Last weekend, they had a daylight game going on. Not as fun as running wild in the dark, but still better than screen time, for sure. I was eating lunch when I glanced out the back window to find Theo clinging to branch of the tree. Quite a ways up. With a rabid pack of boys lunging at him from below. With weapons. Gave me pause, I admit, but mostly because I couldn't figure out how Theo had gotten himself into the tree- the lowest branches had always been way out of his reach. Eventually he came down, and when he went to re-climb, I saw how it all worked. Somewhere he had found a chain. Don't know where. He had also found a belt. He put the belt loosely around his stomach and attached the chain to it. He then threw the chain over the branch and got his friend to hoist him up. All very precarious. And fabulous and great. That's just he kind of fairly safe risk taking that kid needs. I did tell him chains and trees were off limits when no adults were around, we need to be close enough to hear the thud if he falls. He's ok with that.
Last night, during one of the dark tag sessions I overheard this conversation after teams had been chosen:
Boy 1- Man! We have the best team ever!
Boy 2- How can that be? We're the two who are scared of everything!
I loved that. The optimism v. realism of childhood. And the best part is that they looked at each other and grinned, grabbed some weapons, and launched themselves out into the dark.
And there were repercussions. Some hard questions, some late nights. And some new tag games out in the yard with the neighbor boys. It didn't get violent, really. They just incorporated all the nerf weapons they used anyway into more themed play. They put all the weapons in the center, a la the cornucopia, and started the game with a mad dash to the weapons. Then the melee ensued, as usual. One time, as they were playing, and all the adults were sitting chatting around a fire, one kid did say, "Can we play some other game of tag, instead of the one that hurts?" But he said it as he was running by with a fierce grin on his face, so we didn't intervene. Then kids got busy with summer plans and the games fell off.
Until the release of the movie. I don't know how many of the boys have seen the movie or read the books, but there's such a level of common knowledge, that they're all on board with Hunger Games Tag. I don't know the rules. I don't really want to. I've had some talks with myself about the need to interfere with their play. But so far I haven't. As the screams come through the windows I listen for the ratio of thrill to panic. So far it seems to be running at a ratio of about 70% thrill, 30% fear/panic. And that seems just about right for kids playing outside in the near dark during the golden years of outside game playing. If the panic ratio increases, I'll think about stepping out there. But for now, they are handling it themselves. No tears, no whining, and most importantly, this game seems to be free of any of that "Well, he's breaking the rule! He called a T and he can't call a T because...." I hate that. Maybe the rules are clear enough with this one: Kill or be killed? Not really. They're not killing each other. Just tagging. With nerf swords. And some that are made out of wood. No metal. I should know. We are the ones who own the armory.
Last weekend, they had a daylight game going on. Not as fun as running wild in the dark, but still better than screen time, for sure. I was eating lunch when I glanced out the back window to find Theo clinging to branch of the tree. Quite a ways up. With a rabid pack of boys lunging at him from below. With weapons. Gave me pause, I admit, but mostly because I couldn't figure out how Theo had gotten himself into the tree- the lowest branches had always been way out of his reach. Eventually he came down, and when he went to re-climb, I saw how it all worked. Somewhere he had found a chain. Don't know where. He had also found a belt. He put the belt loosely around his stomach and attached the chain to it. He then threw the chain over the branch and got his friend to hoist him up. All very precarious. And fabulous and great. That's just he kind of fairly safe risk taking that kid needs. I did tell him chains and trees were off limits when no adults were around, we need to be close enough to hear the thud if he falls. He's ok with that.
Last night, during one of the dark tag sessions I overheard this conversation after teams had been chosen:
Boy 1- Man! We have the best team ever!
Boy 2- How can that be? We're the two who are scared of everything!
I loved that. The optimism v. realism of childhood. And the best part is that they looked at each other and grinned, grabbed some weapons, and launched themselves out into the dark.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Posing....
The other day a friend posted something pretty funny on facebook. It was supposedly a list of proverbs rewritten by some teacher's first grade class. The teacher had given the kids the first part of a proverb and they completed the sentences. The results were hilarious. Too hilarious- made both Eli and I wonder if these were not the product of first graders, but rather something a bit more contrived. But in the end it didn't matter. Whoever posted it originally was trying for a laugh, and laughter he got. Eli and I could not even read some of them out loud, we were having trouble breathing due to our raucous laughter. We both were wiping away tears and getting stern looks from Jon, who was trying to keep down the noise level so Theo could get to sleep. We apologized and piped down, but the giggles reverberated through us for quite a while longer.
A little mini-debate erupted on FB around the post. Were they real? Contrived? I don't know- and really, I don't care. Their purpose was to entertain and that they did. So why is it that I get so enraged when I read some piece of fabulous non-fiction only to find out it's been fabricated? It's happened twice to my book club in the last few years. First it was Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea. We were moved, motivated, encouraged by what this fellow Minnesotan was doing halfway across the world. Only was he? When Krakauer broke the story that Mortenson fabricated much of his story, AND was working a little free and loose with the contributions to his cause, I was outraged. Outraged. Called my mom right away so that she could share my angst. And she did. On top of that rage was real disappointment for all the people who were swindled by Mortenson's claims- the school kids who sponsored Pennies for Peace and all that. Surely a percentage of that money did end up building schools in Pakistan, but not nearly as much as we were led to believe, it seems.
The second disappointment came with the reading of The Long Walk which inspired the movie The Way Back. I think that the movie originally claimed to be 'based on true events' but now says 'inspired by true events'. Well, I could make that same claim about anything from Winnie the Pooh to Star Wars. There are true events that INSPIRE a fight between good and evil, right? Anway- The Long Walk claims to be the story of a Polish prisoner of war who escapes from a gulag in Siberia with several others and walks to India. India. And for most of the journey, the author had me right along with him. The walk TO the gulag was awe inspiring enough. And that was probably mostly true- the awful method the Russians had of transporting their prisoners was amazing. How any prisoners survived is beyond me. My hands are cold and bothered right now inside my 68 degree house. How did prisoners walk across Russia in the winter holding onto a chain without mittens on? And much of the first part of the escape is believable. Sure, crossing an icy river and then walking on through Siberian winter landscapes in wet clothing was a bit much to contemplate (especially since I was reading this in the winter...) but then he takes the crew across the Gobi, without water, and into the Himalayas. Whey didn't they stop somewhere earlier? And why did he have to include a siting of two yetis? Yep, that's right. Two yetis blocked their path as they tried to go over a pass in the mountains. So they had to sit and observe them. Yetis. Abominable Snowmen. No lie. Well, actually, a lie! But I'm not lying about a guy including yetis in a work of nonfiction and expecting us to believe it. That part is, sadly, true.
That said, I was the only one who came to book club crying Imposter! Fake! Either the rest of my book clubbers (all highly intelligent fabulous women) missed the section about the yeti, or wrote that off as a flight of fancy in an otherwise legit book. To me it threw the whole dang thing into doubt and a little research on the web turned up much evidence that this author was given to many flights of fancy. I shared this with my bookclub and demoralized everyone. I felt a little bad for doing that, but I am going to let the author shoulder most of the blame, even though he has since passed on.
Theo and I just saw the movie "Shackleton: An Antarctic Adventure" at the Omni theater. I was moved to tears. He's my new hero. I'd follow him anywhere. And I stalwartly refuse to do any poking around on the internet about authenticity. Because if that story is fabricated I will not be able to recover my faith in humanity.
A little mini-debate erupted on FB around the post. Were they real? Contrived? I don't know- and really, I don't care. Their purpose was to entertain and that they did. So why is it that I get so enraged when I read some piece of fabulous non-fiction only to find out it's been fabricated? It's happened twice to my book club in the last few years. First it was Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea. We were moved, motivated, encouraged by what this fellow Minnesotan was doing halfway across the world. Only was he? When Krakauer broke the story that Mortenson fabricated much of his story, AND was working a little free and loose with the contributions to his cause, I was outraged. Outraged. Called my mom right away so that she could share my angst. And she did. On top of that rage was real disappointment for all the people who were swindled by Mortenson's claims- the school kids who sponsored Pennies for Peace and all that. Surely a percentage of that money did end up building schools in Pakistan, but not nearly as much as we were led to believe, it seems.
The second disappointment came with the reading of The Long Walk which inspired the movie The Way Back. I think that the movie originally claimed to be 'based on true events' but now says 'inspired by true events'. Well, I could make that same claim about anything from Winnie the Pooh to Star Wars. There are true events that INSPIRE a fight between good and evil, right? Anway- The Long Walk claims to be the story of a Polish prisoner of war who escapes from a gulag in Siberia with several others and walks to India. India. And for most of the journey, the author had me right along with him. The walk TO the gulag was awe inspiring enough. And that was probably mostly true- the awful method the Russians had of transporting their prisoners was amazing. How any prisoners survived is beyond me. My hands are cold and bothered right now inside my 68 degree house. How did prisoners walk across Russia in the winter holding onto a chain without mittens on? And much of the first part of the escape is believable. Sure, crossing an icy river and then walking on through Siberian winter landscapes in wet clothing was a bit much to contemplate (especially since I was reading this in the winter...) but then he takes the crew across the Gobi, without water, and into the Himalayas. Whey didn't they stop somewhere earlier? And why did he have to include a siting of two yetis? Yep, that's right. Two yetis blocked their path as they tried to go over a pass in the mountains. So they had to sit and observe them. Yetis. Abominable Snowmen. No lie. Well, actually, a lie! But I'm not lying about a guy including yetis in a work of nonfiction and expecting us to believe it. That part is, sadly, true.
That said, I was the only one who came to book club crying Imposter! Fake! Either the rest of my book clubbers (all highly intelligent fabulous women) missed the section about the yeti, or wrote that off as a flight of fancy in an otherwise legit book. To me it threw the whole dang thing into doubt and a little research on the web turned up much evidence that this author was given to many flights of fancy. I shared this with my bookclub and demoralized everyone. I felt a little bad for doing that, but I am going to let the author shoulder most of the blame, even though he has since passed on.
Theo and I just saw the movie "Shackleton: An Antarctic Adventure" at the Omni theater. I was moved to tears. He's my new hero. I'd follow him anywhere. And I stalwartly refuse to do any poking around on the internet about authenticity. Because if that story is fabricated I will not be able to recover my faith in humanity.
My Inheritance
The other day after school my dad slipped me a 16 oz can of Houdini. He does have a habit of slipping me odd little things when I least expect it, so I took it in stride. But as he explained what this Houdini was and why he has it and exactly how much he has, I realized that he might be slipping me Houdini on quite a regular basis, for the rest of his life. Apparently he was introduced to this wonder product by the maintenance team at the Florida condo where he and Jean stayed in November. As far as I can tell it's much like WD40, only with a better name. It can ease up any lock you squirt it into. And creaky hinges, and squeaky doors, and you name it....probably would help my achy hip a hell of a lot more than my dumb old stretches do. Now, I realize that a seaside condo with the salty ocean breezes may experience more rusty lock issues than other places, but the way my dad tells it, seeing the maintenance team with their handy can of Houdini was a regular experience. And it wowed dad every time, the results this Houdini could bring on. Made me wonder if just maybe Rodg was creating tasks for the handymen while he was in Florida just to get another chance to see the amazing product do it's job.
When he got home he looked around for his own Houdini supplier. Found it. But the only way to purchase it was by the case. Now, I'm not sure how many bottles come in a case, but I'm guessing at upwards of 24. And knowing that the can of WD40 I have in my basement was purchased in probably 1982 and is still going strong....well, makes me think that Rodg is going to be handing out cans of Houdini for the rest of his life. Hey, you're having a birthday? Here's a can of Houdini! Happy graduation Eli! Here's some Houdini! You know how those locks can stick in college! Christmas stockings, anniversaries, new jobs, all opportunities to give away a little Houdini love. Ours sits next to it's WD40 cousin in the basement, awaiting a call to action. I noticed this morning that the doorknob in the kitchen is acting up, I may just have to pull it out and give it a try this afternoon. Watch for a testimonial here soon!
PS. I am fairly sure I saw my dad messing with the same doorknob last Wednesday. I think he might have been sabotaging it so that I had to give my Houdini a try. Couldn't wait for me to get on the Houdini bandwagon on my own time, could he?
When he got home he looked around for his own Houdini supplier. Found it. But the only way to purchase it was by the case. Now, I'm not sure how many bottles come in a case, but I'm guessing at upwards of 24. And knowing that the can of WD40 I have in my basement was purchased in probably 1982 and is still going strong....well, makes me think that Rodg is going to be handing out cans of Houdini for the rest of his life. Hey, you're having a birthday? Here's a can of Houdini! Happy graduation Eli! Here's some Houdini! You know how those locks can stick in college! Christmas stockings, anniversaries, new jobs, all opportunities to give away a little Houdini love. Ours sits next to it's WD40 cousin in the basement, awaiting a call to action. I noticed this morning that the doorknob in the kitchen is acting up, I may just have to pull it out and give it a try this afternoon. Watch for a testimonial here soon!
PS. I am fairly sure I saw my dad messing with the same doorknob last Wednesday. I think he might have been sabotaging it so that I had to give my Houdini a try. Couldn't wait for me to get on the Houdini bandwagon on my own time, could he?
After school melee
Theo is participating in an after school program called Destination Imagination or DI for short. This is a program that encourages creative problem solving and collaboration. It doesn't always succeed. Back when Eli tried it he learned a lot about finding a balance between doing the work for others or failing as a group or figuring out how to motivate classmates to work harder. It caused tears of frustration out of that level headed kid. He would hold long conversations mostly with himself as he tried to figure out what to do with his wild group. "Should I just write the whole script since so and so never did it? He just played math games all day!" "But I don't want them to think that if they don't do things for themselves that someone else will just step in and do it for them." "But I don't want to be the worst group at the competition!" I tried to interject wisdom I have gained over my many years of collaborative work, but he wasn't really looking for my advice. He was just airing grievances. In the end he did manage to coerce a little more effort out of the group and they put in a respectable performance. Kind of.
Theo is in a group that seems to either have an easier task or they are secretly really efficient. All I see them do is impale each other on nerf swords and practice dying. But somehow they have manged to create a 3 minute movie trailer about the 100 years war. It's actually kind of touching, how one of them ends up cutting the head off of a childhood friend. Just wish the victor could emote a little more remorse, instead of the glee that comes with a well choreographed nerf sword fight. Because it is well choreographed, despite the fact that I never see them talking or working or doing anything beyond poking, impaling, charging, slashing, yelling.
It has become my role to try to keep the injuries to a minimum every Tuesday from 3 to 5pm. It's hard work. Add to that a couple prop making sessions over the weekends and you have one mom who is really looking forward to the competition coming. And going. But Theo enjoys it immensely and it helps him get to school on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, which I can not complain about. That doesn't mean I look forward to 3pm today....
Theo is in a group that seems to either have an easier task or they are secretly really efficient. All I see them do is impale each other on nerf swords and practice dying. But somehow they have manged to create a 3 minute movie trailer about the 100 years war. It's actually kind of touching, how one of them ends up cutting the head off of a childhood friend. Just wish the victor could emote a little more remorse, instead of the glee that comes with a well choreographed nerf sword fight. Because it is well choreographed, despite the fact that I never see them talking or working or doing anything beyond poking, impaling, charging, slashing, yelling.
It has become my role to try to keep the injuries to a minimum every Tuesday from 3 to 5pm. It's hard work. Add to that a couple prop making sessions over the weekends and you have one mom who is really looking forward to the competition coming. And going. But Theo enjoys it immensely and it helps him get to school on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, which I can not complain about. That doesn't mean I look forward to 3pm today....
Volunteer gold
My volunteering at Expo this year has been a little hit or miss. I'm technically supposed to be the 'tutor' on my two days off for Eli's online math crew. But the three boys undertaking online algebra have not come close to needing my help even once. They get it and are cruising through the material unaided. So I sometimes stroll down to Theo's class. Although at that time he is not in there- he's off doing math in a different classroom. But there are plenty of kids in Jan's class who could use a little extra attention. And I am a fairly confident math speaker. I even speak it with a couple different accents, in case kids don't understand my native way of speaking math. The problem is that these kids do math in new ways. Lattice method? Partial Quotient Division? I've seen my boys bring this stuff home and never quite figured out what to do with it. For the first half of the year I kind of blustered my way through when I worked with the kids in Jan's room- but in early February the gig was up when I was trying to do an example for Vernon. I was multiplying the old school way (which doesn't have a name as far as I can tell beyond 'multiplying') when Vernon asked point blank if I knew how to use the lattice method. I had to admit I did not. Which thrilled him. He then taught me. And he did a good job- I actually get it now. Not sure I will ever find a use for it, but it does make sense to me at long last. Vernon was tickled to have taught me, as he should have been.
After math that day I was sitting in the back of the class gathering my goods as Jan was talking with the kids about the upcoming Valentine's situation. She laid down the rules- if you make a card for one kid in the class, you make one for every kid in the class. But. But. If you wanted to go outside of the classroom you could pick and choose. Make a card for the principal, the secretary, one kid in kindergarten, whoever you want. Hands went up, kids working to get the rules firmly in grasp. Can I make one for just Haakon next door? Just Mr. Yerama? Vernon's little hand went up and he looked back at me as he asked, "Can we make one for Gretchen?" Of course!
For the record, he didn't. Or it got lost. Or something. But the thought that he at one point might have had half a plan to make one for the silly woman who muddles through math with him warmed my heart.
After math that day I was sitting in the back of the class gathering my goods as Jan was talking with the kids about the upcoming Valentine's situation. She laid down the rules- if you make a card for one kid in the class, you make one for every kid in the class. But. But. If you wanted to go outside of the classroom you could pick and choose. Make a card for the principal, the secretary, one kid in kindergarten, whoever you want. Hands went up, kids working to get the rules firmly in grasp. Can I make one for just Haakon next door? Just Mr. Yerama? Vernon's little hand went up and he looked back at me as he asked, "Can we make one for Gretchen?" Of course!
For the record, he didn't. Or it got lost. Or something. But the thought that he at one point might have had half a plan to make one for the silly woman who muddles through math with him warmed my heart.
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