15 Books, with Commentary (because I wanted to...)

I got tagged in Facebook to list the first 15 books that will always stick with me. Since I haven't posted here in forever, I thought I'd add it just in case people are actually still checking in. I'm still working on replies to the last post. Maybe once school starts...

In the order in which they came to me:

1. Foucoult’s Pendulum (in Italian), by Umberto Eco. It was my first major interlingual literary conquest and it was a serious bitch to read! I had no idea it would be so time consuming, but I was too stubborn to walk away from it.

2. Lord of the Flies, by William Golding. I read this book for fun when I was in 9th grade. It was my first exposure to how easily manipulated people can be by fear, and that it does not matter most of the time what’s wise or just.

3. Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison. I picked this book up by mistake, thinking it was the H.G. Wells book. I loved it, even if it wasn’t what I intended to read.

4. House of Sand and Fog, by Andre Dubus. This book moved me in so many unexpected ways. It scared me to think of how simple acts of inaction and inflexibility can send us spiraling out of control.

5. Bicycles North! A Mystery on Wheels, by Rita Ritchie. This book came to me when I was 9 years old, and it cemented completely my desire to be a distance cyclist. At that time I was already riding around the neighborhood on my single speed with the banana seat, but after reading this book, I had dreams of going much, much farther.

6. Choice Theory: A New Psychology of Personal Freedom, by William Glasser. Glasser’s theories about the role of connectedness in relationships replaces external control psychology and puts into different (and much better) wording what I’ve been feeling all along about how to satisfy out own needs without sacrificing those of anyone else.

7. The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkein. It was not the easiest book to read, but the story was wonderfully deep and it hooked me on fantasy as a genre of literature, both to read and to write.

8. To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee. I was thoroughly enchanted by Scout, and by the humanity with which Lee weaves this story. I don’t know how many teenagers today would identify with it today, but it really spoke to me when I read it in high school.

9. The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck. I remember someone telling me that they couldn’t stand this book because it didn’t go anywhere. “There’s a whole chapter with nothing but a turtle crossing the road!” they said. I found that same chapter to have incredible meaning, and the story as a whole (the ending, in particular) touched me very, very deeply.

10. The Buddhist I Ching, by Thomas Cleary. Not as much for its content (although I also find it a rich and wonderful resource), I list this book because of the amount of inspiration I get from the author. A translator of works from eight languages into English, Cleary’s approach to translation seeks to make clear not just words, but intention, meaning and purpose. As someone who studies languages and values good communication, I draw a great deal of encouragement from Cleary’s work because it reminds me constantly of how powerful language is.

11. Dune, by Frank Herbert. Paul Atreides’ journey of self-discovery and acceptance of his place and power in the universe really connected with me. This is one of the few books I’ve read more than once.

12. Among Schoolchildren, by Tracy Kidder. It didn’t connect with me at the time I read this book initially in college, but Mrs. Zajac, the focus of this experiential biography, taught near where I do now. I can relate much more to what she went through now because I can see the city where her kids come from. This book helped me to realize the day-to-day truth of what teaching is. It helped to confirm for me that I would still be in love with my career choice years later.

13. Catch-22, by Joseph Heller. The colossal inanity of the things Heller writes about are nestled in fiction, but if you look at the world through my eyes there’s not much difference between his fiction and reality. Knowing someone else sees the same things was refreshing!

14. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams. The humour of this book is entirely British in flavour, and I louved it! I bring a towel with me whenever I travel!

15. The Old Man and the Sea, by Earnest Hemingway. I was introduced to Hemingway and his style of writing when I was in college (thanks, Jonothan!), and this story is in many ways the one I’ve drawn the most inspiration from. It’s not long and there’s very little action (by the standards we use today), but Santiago’s ultimately hollow victory against the fish is poignant in ways I’m only just beginning to understand now. I aspire to be able to communicate as well in as few words.

Pushing Through

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Lots of little stuff mostly. Seems like whenever I sit down to put it into words, it seems daunting and, since I’m already tired when I get to it, I decide the required effort is just too great. Today, I’m going to push through that. In no particular order, then...

Karla and I went to the Community College today to meet with the financial aid guru. We’re trying to get her declared independent so she can qualify for enough grant aid to take classes. The meeting went very well. Dennis listened to Karla’s story and was quite confident that, with a modicum of documentation, she would meet the criteria for a dependency override. The thing that struck me about this meeting, though, was how nervous she was and, more importantly, her response to my observation of that fact. I suspect I’m going to put her on the defensive by even writing about it here (and I’m sorry if that’s the case), but I was so surprised to hear her deny it that I was left to wonder how many other people in the world do the same thing. I know of several people who suffer from varying degrees of anxiety disorders. They are seemingly flung all over the place by their unsupported fears, terrified, out of control, and feeling powerless. Yet, I have come to understand that one always has a choice about how to respond to and deal with fears. If we would move past them, we have several choices: We can cave into them, struggle with them, accept them, or work around them. Whichever decision we make, we always have the choice and we make it over and over again throughout our lives, and it is important to understand that we are not bound to make the same choice forever. We have the capacity to deal with our fears any way we choose. I find the choice to deny that they exist an odd one for the simple reason that doing so inhibits us from moving past them. Perhaps this is a separate post on its own…

Lots of my alumni have been in touch recently, and it is good to hear how they’re doing. Ellen is headed to Spain, Nikki to Turkey. Several have come home to visit, or are doing so soon. Jen P. will be back from Germany in a couple of weeks. We saw Courtney when she was back from Chicago. Dani and Joe were here not long ago from New York. Jennie is due back sometime from the west coast. I was sad not to see Jen K. and her new baby when she was here visiting, but all reports are that she is doing well in Texas. Even Kate, whom I haven’t heard from in many, many years, touched base recently. She’s about to take the bar exam. Break a Law Review, Kate!

I am eternally grateful to Wheeler, who came up last weekend to help me get some home improvement work done and ended up doing battle with the spirits of the house who, apparently, did not appreciate his efforts. It was supposed to be a fairly simple matter to replace the kitchen faucet. What was originally a 30-minute job turned into a 5-HOUR ordeal that included replacing both shut-off valves under the sink and a section of drain pipe in the basement, shutting off the water to the entire house while still managing to have flow in the pipes an hour later, nearly burning the place down (the story is better if we say that, Wheeler) and cramming both of us into the space underneath the sink. The story is one of those minor epics that always seem to come during home improvement projects, and is better shared in person. Why is it that home improvement projects so often fall into the “minor epic” category?

Chili’s mom is nearing death, and a student at my school (not one from my classes, but one I know) is coming back haltingly from the brink. My heart goes out to both of them and to the people who sacrifice so much of themselves to care for them. Such work necessarily affects a great many people (it’s truly amazing just how many lives we touch in a direct and powerful way) and the balancing act of keeping all the parts of all these worlds turning smoothly is a complicated and arduous task.

My first triathlon takes place on Sunday, and I have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, there are many positives. I am physically stronger and faster than last year, and I have equipment that will allow me to be more competitive (yay for wetsuits). On the other hand, some apprehensions exist. I still have not reached my low weight from last year (although I have managed to melt 7 of the 10 lbs. I gained over the winter during July). The rest of me looks and feels fit, but the fact that I still carry this inner-tube around my waist is really starting to annoy me. Also, and not related to weight or fat, I cannot seem to get comfortable with the course. I’ve done enough open water swimming to feel secure about that leg of the race, but the bike and run are truly worrisome. I’ve tried a whole host of approaches to the ride in an attempt to bring my times in at what I think they should be, and the best I’ve gotten is a fractional gain and a body that is not happy. I just can’t seem to get the rhythm of the bike leg down and it makes me nervous that I’m going to kill myself before I’ve even hit the run. The run. The hardest part of the race for me. I’m fitter for it than I was last year, but it remains my biggest obstacle. This course, particularly, is a test because of the hills involved. I want to conquer it in a decent time, but none of my test runs of the course have given me a lot to feel confident about. I will be happy to have improved on last year’s performance, but I won’t feel the race was truly successful if it’s not well done. Does that make sense?

I'm still working through the issues presented in the latest Community School post. I'm running out of time, so I'll have to finish that post either later tonight or tomorrow. Until then...

Glad I didn't reread the book before I saw the movie

Many of the Wayfarer Community adults (and some of the kids, too) descended upon the local movie house for the early evening showing of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. The movie was decent (better, perhaps, for my not being up on the details of the book), but the thing that made the movie really special was that it was a community event.

We all live really busy lives. We juggle jobs, children, school, projects of all kinds--not to mention the obligations of our extended given families, and we are often exhausted at the end of the day just from the efforts of trying to keep our worlds turning as we believe they should. That my world is full of individuals who, despite these obligations, nonetheless give up even more of themselves to make this chosen family work makes me feel truly blessed. It was an honor to spend the afternoon and evening with them all (and thank you, Molly, for your part in making that happen; welcome to our crazy world)!

We're all coming together tomorrow to celebrate the birthday's of the several of us who are turning 40 this year. I'll try to post pics tomorrow. Till then, reach out to some of your chosen family and tell them you appreciate them. It's a truly wonderful thing to be connected to people.

The Awareness of Summer

During the summer, the routine at Wayfarer House changes a bit. It’s not any less busy, per se, but it is focused on things very different from those that occupy my time when school is in session. In years past, I’ve not really had the luxury to take time “off”; there’s always been something curricular or otherwise related to my teaching that’s needed attention. Not so this year. In part because I’ve resigned as both AD and soccer coach at my school, but also because the need to use the summer to prepare for the upcoming school year lessens as I have been teaching at the same school longer and longer, I’ve been blessed with a goodly amount of time to pursue training for the two triathlons I want to race (both of which take place in August) and I have been able to work on rebuilding some important personal growth routines, blogging being among the latest of them. I’ve even been able to indulge in regular naps. Most of you know I have short internal batteries. Being able to recharge them, especially while doing heavy amounts of physical exercise, is a wonderful blessing.

The summer also means I’m around the house a great deal more than usual during school. As a result of this, I see more consciously the amount of work that needs to be done to keep the swirling vortex of activity we call a house from falling into complete chaos and decrepitude. I see with great vividness the endless stream of laundry. The dishes seem to scream at me every time I pass through the kitchen. The kids’ things cannot be cleaned up well enough or regularly enough to appease my rather non-standard sense of order. All these things are so much more evident to me during the summer and, as a result, are far more irksome to me than they might be otherwise, when out of necessity, I will compartmentalize my awareness of them so that I can focus on the myriad other monkeys on my back.

I give you today as an example: There are at least 4 baskets of laundry that need to be folded and 2 that need to be run through the machines; the kitchen is full of dirty dishes, but the dishwasher is full and needs to be emptied (I have to own the fact that it didn’t run until this morning); the floor needs to be vacuumed--again (Karla can attest to the fact that it was done just a couple of days ago, but, for a variety of reasons, the house gets dirty quickly in the summer); and last, but not least, the girls things are undergoing a slow but inevitable rate of encroachment such that they must surely engulf the house, much as Hemingway’s sharks must eventually devour Santiago’s great fish. Add to this, please, the ubiquitous collection of projects large and small that seems to diminish in size like the puddle you tried to scoop dry with your hands in a rainstorm when you were a kid and the relational demands that are regularly part of being a member of Wayfarer house, and you can see how tempting it can be to say, “That’s enough!” drop everything and deal with it all.

The thing is, I’ll never get it all done. I could spend all day, every day of my summer, working to get ahead on these tasks and I would never see the end of them. However greatly they wind me up, I have to recognize that I cannot do all of them at once. I have to commit myself to a certain list of things, according to a basic standard of prioritization and, as long as I have done those things, I must live with what remains.

I’ve been seeing in this an unnerving parallel to my work with the Community School. I'm working on a post for the Community School blog to discuss this more, but it won't be ready until tomorrow. Check the link, though. It might be there early.

Some Easy and Some Hard

Training this week is going well. I took my new wetsuit out for its first test in open water the other day and was thrilled. I was buoyant and glided along the water with an ease I’ve only rarely experienced as a swimmer. That, combined with weather that was simply exquisite for swimming, left me feeling like the 1.2 miles I did across a nearby lake was effortless. I seriously considered doing another half a mile, but decided to measure out a run around that lake so I can start practicing dual discipline workouts. I especially need to be pushing the run training. It’s my weakest discipline, and the one that is destined to cause me problems in the Olympic distance event I’m doing in just two weeks.

One of the things about training for distance events is that you spend rather a lot of time thinking about things that are not related to training (it’s part of what allows us to do things for far longer than we might otherwise). I’ve been thinking a lot about Wayfarer Community School stuff, and what I need to do to move things along with this project. I’m wrestling a bit with this, and I’ve decided I should take some time to write about the conflicts I’m having. I won’t get it all into this one post--I need to go to bed sometime--but if you’ll bear with me, I hope to connect all the disparate pieces into a cohesive thought over the next couple of days.

Laurie B asked where the project was in a comment a couple of posts ago. The answer is “not much farther than in the spring”, and I’m annoyed on several levels because I’m not happy with that answer. It’s not for reasons that are insurmountable or unavoidable that the project isn’t moving very fast. A lot of it simply has to do with me, and that’s a lot of why I’m annoyed. If it were something outside my control, I could roll with it (I probably wouldn’t, but that’s neither here nor there). That I am ultimately responsible for where we are means I have to get up off my ass and fix stuff, and that’s not as simple as I would like it to be.

I’m struggling at the moment with two separate issues in my way of doing things--not just WCS things, but all things. The first is that I have a tendency to focus on minutiae because it often seems like it’s the more immediate problem, when really I should be looking at the big ideas, which are my specialty and what other people expect me to be doing. The second is that, in a sometimes instinctive desire to keep stimulated, I often allow myself to take on projects that distract from more than they contribute to the grand plan. I’ll explain more about these over the next couple of days, but they really sit right at the heart of a lot in the deep end of my pool right now and I need to work through them.

I should probably have this conversation on the WCS blog. I am ashamed at how long it’s been since I posted to it. I’ll find a way to send this over there, and post the links to it on this blog. You need another blog to read, right?

Happy Birthday, Dad

I called my dad to wish him a happy birthday yesterday. He’s 68.

My father counts the day of his birth among the most important days in his year. I can appreciate that. I don’t hold my own birthday in terribly high esteem, myself, but I can understand why people see them as special. He and I have the conversation every year about why they're supposed to be sacred days. I think he supposes that I'm a curmudgeon about them. That's not true. I just don’t get all excited about the day, per se. I take a big-picture, though probably unrealistic, philosophical position on the issue. Treat people like it’s their birthday all the time, I say, and maybe we wouldn’t need to make such a big deal out of that particular day. Why should one ever feel constrained in giving love and attention?

Anyway, I love you, Dad! I hope you get a chance to do something you would enjoy. I’d get you a boat, if I could afford it. I know you love to be out on the water! You’ll have to settle for a funny card and a better way to make coffee, though. Seriously, those “coffee-in-a-bag” things are not the way to go.

A summary of the Week

The girls have been in camp for a week and, clearly, they like it a lot. One can determine this by several things, including the amount of time they spend talking about it, the number of times they ask if they can come back next year (even though they still have 5 weeks of camp to go) and the ease with which they go to bed in the evenings (this last one is an important grownup reason). Number one on the list of things they enjoy: Swimming. Their camp has poolage, and they have lessons in the morning with free swim in the afternoon. Both my girls are water children (they come by it honestly), and would spend all day in a pool or a lake or an ocean if we didn’t specifically tell them they had to come in because they’re suffering from hypothermia.

Wifeness and Karla are headed to see the Matriarch this weekend to help get her settled after her surgery. Sorry I didn’t write about this in advance; she just had a knee replaced. The procedure went well, I gather, but it’ll be a few days before the swelling goes down. Wifeness, ever the dutiful daughter, is there to do what she can to keep the house running so Nana can rest her leg like she should. Karla went to help as well, but also to see a cousin who’s been doing energy work on her for her illness (though having some time away from the young ones was a happenstance not inconsequential in her decision making)

Karla went with me the other day to get my one expensive piece of triathlon gear for the year: A wetsuit. I realized the wisdom of owning one last year, when I ended up having to do breaststroke for a full ¾ mile during a race because the water was too cold to do a crawl stroke without my lungs seizing up, but I told myself I would not spend the money unless: a) I made a commitment to continuing to race triathlons, and b) I was convinced I could get some weight off and keep it off. I made the decision to keep racing last year after the first race. I enjoy the competition and I get a lot out of the intense training that is necessary to do well in endurance events. Now that I’m doing them, I feel like I’ll do them forever. The weight came off last year and, although I put some back on over the winter (actually, it was during the end of soccer season, while I was prepping for my speaking gig in Charlotte), but I have done surprisingly well at holding since and, now that I’m training full on again, it’s starting to melt off. I decided I could spend the money with confidence. I haven’t had a chance to go try it out yet. That’ll come next week, when I have some time during the day.

Training is progressing. My swims are solid at ¾ mile lengths (the length of my longest event this year). I have to test myself in open water soon, but I feel like I’ll be in the middle of the pack in any race I run and that’s good enough for this year. The cycling is still good, although I’m annoyed I haven’t improved quite as much here. I was already a little better than the middle of the pack on the bike, but I haven’t taken the time to put the miles in like I should and my climbing has suffered a bit as a result. I did a very hilly 50+ mile ride Wednesday to work on that problem. I’ll test myself on the local race’s course next week. That will tell me more about what I need to work on. The run remains the biggest challenge for me. I was doing a decent 5k time in the spring, but I stopped running when the end-of-year school routine kicked into high gear, and so I’ve taken a couple of steps backward (pardon the metaphor). I’ll be happy if I can do the 7.2 miles of the local race in less than an hour this year. Right now, my pace is a little over that.

How’s your did your week go?

Would you like some lettuce?

Our farm share has been coming in for a couple of weeks now. Here’s about what we’ll be doing for meal planning at Wayfarer House for the summer...

Monday: Salad

Tuesday: Fresh Greens

Wednesday: Garden Vegetable Medley

Thursday: Leftovers

Friday: Chicken Fried Steak and McDonalds (to flush out the system)

Saturday and Sunday: Eat nothing due to continual digestion of Friday’s meal (coincidentally made possible by all the cheap greens we’ll be eating).

If we’re doing potluck or community meal at your place, you should just assume we’ll bring the salad. Seriously.

Yay for camp!

The girls start day camp today, and I am happy. I am happy not because I’m glad to see them go. Quite to the contrary; I enjoyed my week with them last week. I’m happy because, although my children are good at playing independently and keeping themselves entertained in good and healthy ways, I simply do not feel like I can get things done when I’m watching them. I think it’s partly due to the fact that I can’t multitask worth a damn--being mentally aware of my children counts as a task--but there is also the matter of their rather regimented schedule doesn’t quite coincide with my rather regimented schedule (particularly as it relates to the sacred naptime). Basically, without intending to, they cut into my productivity.

It’s good that they’re going to camp for other reasons, too. Among those is the fact that they’ll get a lot of interaction with other kids that they don’t get when they’re at home. They’ll certainly be kept busy there, where trying to keep them entertained at the house can be a challenge because they really have divergent interests and abilities. It’s a help to Karla to have them gone during the day. I can push them to keep quiet until as late as 10am, but after that they just have to be who they are and that’s too loud for Karla to sleep. Since it’s frought with problems to try to get Karla to rise earlier than 11am, it’s the path of least resistence to have them out of the house.

I have a to-do list on the dry erase board, and items are getting checked off as they are accomplished. Today was a swim/run training day. I got the my .8 mi. swim in at 6am (and kicked ass, too!) The run (which, if I’m lucky, will be a full 10k that doesn't piss off my recently hyperextended knee) will hit in the afternoon--after the nap. The rest of the day is reserved for phone calls and emails, and for some necessary bits of domestica. I need to wash softball and tri clothes, and I have a couple of errands to run in the early afternoon.

Things are moving along quite nicely. I am happy.

That's what I get.

Went running today and got my ass kicked. I deserve it. I haven’t done a lick of training in the past 5 weeks, and (clearly) it shows. I pulled out of my early tri event (which takes place this Saturday) so I didn’t hurt myself, but I’m bound and determined to be ready for the Olympic distance version of the local event in a month. The first week of this is going to be painful on several levels. I have resigned myself to this fact and look upon it both as payment for more than a month of sloth and as motivation to drive me not to slack off like that again.

I’m motivated by the fact that the Tour de France starts tomorrow. I follow the tour every year, and this year it’s going to keep a driving force in my training. If frickin’ Lance Armstrong can do it, then goddamn it so can I! I’m also inspired by a book Karla found for me at the library about a woman in her 50s who retired from her life as head of a school in England and rode around the world. Can I just say that I have dreams of doing that someday? It wouldn’t be the kind of around-the-world trip Wifeness would want to take, though, and I’d feel sad if she didn’t go.

We’re headed up to Lake Spofford for an annual 4th of July cookout event. I’m bringing swim gear (no wetsuit yet--that's on the list of things to buy this month). I have no expectation that the water will be warm enough to really push through, but it can’t be any worse than my last event of 2008 when I had to do breaststroke for ¾ of a mile because it was too cold to crawl. My nuts still crawl right inside at the memory of that day.

While training is the focus of the month of July in the mornings and the evenings, the middle of the day is set aside for the myriad house projects burning a hole in my to-do list. I can do several of them without a further impact to the budget, and those are the ones I’ll get to first. Next week’s items include finishing the side porch (more than a year after it was started) and the completion of the basement workshop makeover and inventory reduction.

If I don’t post tomorrow, it’ll be because we got back late and I was beat. Happy 4th to those of you who celebrate the most American of holidays!

Quality time--for everyone

This is a transition week. The summer vacation routine is in effect, but the kids’ summer camp experience has not yet started. This means that the mornings are slow (if not always quiet--sorry Karla), and that they begin with some sacred time between the early risers. SiSi has been a rooster since her earliest days. She comes by this honestly (as anyone who has known me since college can certainly affirm), and during the times when the grownups need to catch up on sleep it can be, well, a burden. She’s been “sleeping in” this week, though (till 7:30), so that’s been nice.

Once we’ve sent Mama on her way (she’s the resident working stiff during the summer), SiSi and I grab our breakfast and go outside. We sit, sip coffee and smoothie, chat and listen to the sounds of the morning. OK, the kid does the chatting and the Papa does the listening to the sounds of the morning. Still, it represents wonderfully intimate quality time and we both get a lot out of it.

NiNi and I get our version of that same time in different ways. Sometimes, it comes from doing things together--yesterday, for example, she and I went grocery shopping (which she likes because she gets to do all the price scanning). Sometimes we get it from just chilling. We don’t do it quite so often anymore, but we used to take naps together. She’s a great nap partner!

In pondering this concept, I realized this morning that I haven’t been spending as much quality time lately with our teenager-in-residence. She gets a lot of attention from Wifeness (which is at it should be), but it’s important that she know I value the time we spend together, too. It seems like it’s been more about the other two kids when she and I are in each other’s company of late, and that’s not fair. She should get to have the full attention of the Papa, as well.

Karla and I used to take quality time together a lot but, curiously, we haven’t been bonding quite as often recently. I’ve allowed myself to be focused on other things, and I’ve been lax about making the effort to nurture that special attachment we have. Attachment is an integral part of strong and healthy relationships, particularly between chosen family, and it deserves constant attention.

I take responsibility for not doing more to connect with her in those ways, but I’ll need to reach out to her for some help in doing that more. The thing about quality time is that it can rarely be dictated by an individual. If the important thing about it is that both people share something with each other during the experience, then it must be recognized that it can’t be done unilaterally. So, I’ll see what she thinks. I’m sure that, between the two of us, we can figure something out.

Say no and mean it

I am a parent of two well-mannered, respectful and attentive children. Of course, like most kids, mine don’t always get along with each other or listen to what I say or do what I ask them to quite when or how I ask them to do it but, for all that it drives me up a wall when they’re like that, I understand that parenting is all about process, and my relationship with them is dynamic. They are growing and learning and developing skills and habits that will serve them well later on. I am proud of their growth, and I am confident that they will both become quality people in their own, individual way.

I have confirmed that, if I would occasion it, I as the parent must be the both the standard and the example of what such growth looks like. I must be the teacher, the arbiter, the model and, without being so overtly, the director of my children’s learning. It is work to do this well and none of us does it perfectly. Yet, I stand by the belief that, if we would have our children become people of quality, with an appropriate understanding of self and an ability to examine with consideration their behavior and their choices, then we must do so consciously. If we are what we eat, then surely our children will be what they are parented to be. Children who are left simply to be may enjoy a youth free from the imagined burdens of responsibility, but I would argue that they do so at incredible risk to their safety and at a not inconsiderable cost to their ability to make good decisions on their own.

One of the most important ways in which parents can--indeed, must--contribute to the wellbeing of their children is to provide clear, consistent boundaries that both protect them from grievous harm and help them interact well interpersonally. Number one on the “how to” list of contributions involves just a single word: No. Judiciously and uniformly used, this small word guides children to an understanding of what is safe, what is socially acceptable and, when used with its antonym, offers solutions and possibilities for children to use as a means to think critically and independently about their world. It must be recognized, however, that words are powerful and, if they are wielded indifferently, without concern for their effect, they can create more problems than they solve.

If you tell a child no, as a parent you are using your position of experienced authority (a position that your children want to accept) to instruct them. If you throw the word around nonchalantly (and most especially if you don’t stand by it once you’ve used it), at least two consequences follow naturally: First, the child will no longer accept your decisions as valid on their face, and second, your position as experienced authority figure will be lessened. Either of these means you must work harder as a parent to instruct your children. Both of them together create a relationship between you and your children that is at best adversarial, and that can very easily become treasonous.

I suspect that many parents hesitate to enforce their disapproval either because they are not truly convinced that it is required or because they worry that doing so will engender bitterness (i.e. a fit), conflict (i.e. a shouting match) or resentment of them as individuals, but neither of these is a compelling reason to abandon the decision once it has been made. You are the parent. It is your right (and, indeed, your responsibility) to make decisions on behalf of your children. Show confidence and judicious consideration in making them, and do so not out of fear, but out of confidence that you are directing your children to become wonderful people. If it means saying no, say it, and have the resolve to stand by your choice. Your children, ultimately, will thank you for it.

Wayfarer House Monday News Bulletin

First, some news from around the world…

The U.S. gave a good showing against Brazil in the Confederations Cup final, but lost 3-2. I watched the game on Univision (we don’t have ESPN), which makes the game all that much better because of the colorful commentary. GOOOAAAAALLLL!

I also learned, right in the middle of the game, about Zelaya’s ouster in Honduras. I’ll be following the events there with some interest, with the hope that it does not explode into a humanitarian disaster.

Iran has begun recounting ballots from its recent election. Good job sticking with the rule of law, guys! We’re proud of you over here!

And in local news…

Caleb and Maeve had their first offer on a house rejected. This is, no doubt, a relief to Caleb, who is concerned about money what with two girls going into pre-school next year. Our collective heart goes with them as they embark on the journey of house ownership. We’re not anxious to see them go, even though we know it’s a good thing for them. We just hope that the process of finding a home of their own treats them well.

Karla’s health improves steadily, and she is on her way to the local community college in the fall to study alternative healing. She wants to help people in a way that is her own, and hands-on healing feels right to her. She’s had some good and powerful experiences with different kinds of hands-on healing over the last couple of years, and has seen how positive the results can be. I think it is admirable that she wants to share that experience with others.

The Wayfarer House younglings are home at “Camp Papa” this week. Today’s exciting agenda includes a trip to the vets and the library, helping Papa mow the lawn, playing in the pool (after it’s been refilled) and taking a nap (or at least watching Papa take one, which is good enough for me). They will be grateful, I’m sure, to start their outdoor camp experience one week from today.

Wifeness is looking for a teaching job. She had an interview at a local high school, but isn’t holding out much hope. She’s a victim of the classic catch-22. Schools (especially in the current climate) want teachers with experience. She doesn’t have any (of the traditional variety, anyway) and can’t get any if no one will give her a job. Man, we need to get this school thing up off the ground!

There is, of course, much more going on in my world, but the kids need me to get started with my day. I hope yours goes well!

School is done.

Grades are out. Most passed. Many did amazing work.

Stuff has all been packed and moved to my new classroom. I’ll explain later.

There’s no soccer or athletics to deal with. I’ll have to explain that later, too, I think.

Plants have come home.

I can breathe deeply now.

It’s nice to be able to post.

Not Survival Mode

A number of people who read this blog have asked where I’ve been this last month. To answer all the questions at once, there is nothing wrong. I am not highly stressed, and we are not in the grips of crisis here. Nor am I in “survival mode”. In survival mode, the extraneous elements of life are surrendered and we are left with only what must be in order to endure. Rather, it’s more like “prevention mode”. I’ll employ that term (for lack of something more erudite) to describe the prophylactic efforts we all undertake at times to avoid the catastrophic. Suspenders and a belt. In “park” with the emergency brake on. CDs and a geek stick. We engage in these habits, fully aware of their disproportion, because we cannot dismiss the feeling that, without them, something bad might happen. Nonsensical when we are navigating life at a pace and in a style familiar and predictable to us, such measures serve as a security blanket in times of frenetic unpredictability.

The end of school for me is the culmination of long effort on the part of my students. It is a time when they examine what they’ve done, where they are in the continuum of their work, and many are finding that they are not as ready to move on as they would like. Time is short, though, and the effort necessary to accomplish their goals often requires a lot of last-minute negotiation, organization and collaboration. There are countless spontaneous conversations during the days now when students ask can retake an exam, get help on their research, show me their presentation activity. They want to know if I’ve looked at their papers, if their pen-pals have written back. Can I help them make a phone call?

In order to accommodate the mental strain from all this, I find myself doing things I don’t need to do under normal circumstances. I stop trying to keep track of things in my head, for example. There is just way too much information flow, so everything gets written down. Meetings, reminders and notes all live in their right places in my computer, and I make no decisions without them. All the paperwork I get is (for me) meticulously organized so I can know where to find what I need and what must receive first priority. This is not the time to retain the inventory mentally.

I also notice that I take measures to protect my reserves of energy. I need naps more and I eschew activities that might leave me too tired to take on all that my students might throw at me in a given day. It is unfortunate that blogging, being more of a creative endeavor than a therapeutic one for me, requires more mental and psychological effort to maintain than I can easily summon without risking burnout. I know this is so because, when I think, “This would make a great blog post,” all the little warning lights in my subconscious go off. This is a time of year when I find it important to heed the warning lights.

Although I have much to share about what we’re doing here at Wayfarer House, it will need to wait just a couple more weeks, until the bulk of the frenzy at school has subsided. Until then, know that things are going as they should. Wifeness and the girls are well. The community is moving forward. Summer has arrived.

Sometimes it happens that way

It happens every so often that I will give an exam that, for whatever combination of reasons, the students are not universally prepared for and, whenever I try to grade such an exam, it will be apparent almost immediately that something is amiss. I see a lot of mistakes (and not consistent ones), for example, or there are a lot of doodles or scribbles or “AAACCKK!!” notes on them. There are other tools that I think all teachers use, as well. For example, many of us teachers have students that we use as benchmarks for the rest of the class. We look to them to see if what we’re doing makes sense to anyone. Sometimes they’re the adepts in the group, but I’ve found that it is often just as valuable to pick the student you know will struggle with whatever I’m showing them. If the struggling student gets it, I can be fairly sure the rest of them have it down, as well.

Last week’s exam was on days of the week, months, seasons and how to say, write and read a date. As units go, this is a simple one in my class; there’s not a lot of vocabulary to memorize, and the concepts involved in doing dates are fairly straightforward. I reviewed these on Monday, and said, “Here’s the vocab. Go, and memorize.” Lest you think this might be harsh and unsupportive, I should add that this is not normally a directive outside their abilities. They have been trained since October to do exactly that, and to come and find me if they’re having problems. On the whole, my students have no troubles with my handing them something and telling them to put it in their brains.

Not so this past week.

It could be the fact that spring is here. It could be that we’re reaching the end of the school year (7 weeks isn’t really the end in my mind, but they’ve already got Short-Timer’s Disease). It is also possible that, with everything else going on in their other classes, Spanish just slipped their minds (it happens, trust me). It might also be that on this occasion, I needed to hold their hands a bit more than normal. That’s when we go back through the exams, and we look at the performance of the benchmark students. It took me a day to review all 65 exams (only 2 of which hit the “B” level standard that is passing credit), and another couple of hours to look more closely at the benchmark exams. After all that, I came to the conclusion that all of the reasons described above probably had something to do with the spectacular crash and burn of last week’s exam.

So, what to do?

There are a couple of options: I could…

1. Yell at them and tell them to get on the stick and do their damn jobs, lest they fail my class, not graduate on time and be forced to endure the eternal wrath and ridicule of the adults in their world.

2. Tell them it’s my fault that they didn’t learn it well, take responsibility for their failure and reteach the unit.

3. Say to hell with it, pass them all and move on.

How many of you teachers would be tempted to go for #3? Go ahead, you can admit it. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t.

If a poll were taken among those of you who know me, however, it would show overwhelmingly that I would follow the first option, and you would be partly correct. Only partly correct, though. I did, in fact, talk with my classes. I explained what happened with the exam, and asked them to be honest in telling me how many of them felt like they’d prepared for it the way they should have. There were a few who owned that they’d slacked, but many were surprised that they hadn’t passed. They wanted to see the exam, to see what they’d done wrong.

This is a good signal that I need to follow option two, and so I’m going to go back over trodden ground next week. Do I mind doing this? A little, but not because they didn’t get it right the first time. Truly, it has more to do with the fact that I’m running out of time. I still have 3 units left to cover before they start their Exhibition presentations, and I’m down to less than 1½ weeks to do them all. I’ll have to sit down with my calendar this weekend to strategize about how to fit everything in.

Sometimes, it just happens that way.

10 Things Tuesday--Late Night Edition

What do you do when you’ve come back from a 5k run at 10pm, and there’s no way you’re going to sleep for the next 3 hours because you’re high on adrenaline and the caffeine you had at 7:30?

1. You put in a load of laundry to wash all the nasty wet clothing you’ve worn running, cycling and to play softball. Phew!

2. You log your running time. I’ve been keeping records of such things for the last 4 years, and I get excited to see that I am getting stronger and faster every year! Tonight’s run (fueled as it was by a nap and some coffee) was the second fastest 5k time I’ve ever run! And that it comes so early in the season can only mean my tri times will be better than last year. That’ll be great!

3. You start to review a DVD called The Practice Project, which is wonderfully connected to my research from last year (see the paper [HERE])

4. You listen to the Red Sox beat the Yankees for the fifth straight time this season. Go Sox! (Sorry, Kizz)

5. You pull your old computer off your racing bike. It’s 17 years old, and it’s the only one I’ve ever used. It’s still in decent working order, but I got a new one for my anniversary so it’s going to SiSi so she can log how far she rides. I’ll put the new one on sometime this weekend.

6. You check your Facebook messages to make sure that Ruth and Wheeler are still coming up tomorrow. Ruth is home from college in Florida, and Wayfarer House is excited to welcome her back! Hopefully, by the time we see him, Wheeler will be employed at a new (and less stressful) job.

7. You check your email to find out how Katie’s doing with her schoolwork. Katie is supposed to be emailing me an update on her progress through the last quarter of the 6th grade, as part of continued monitoring by the adults in her world to promote responsibility and transparency. I sent her a separate email earlier in the week, just to tell her I love her and (hopefully) to encourage her to stay the course. She needs some love as she pushes to make it through the year in relatively decent shape.

8. You look at the grading you need to be doing and say, “Fuck it. Not tonight.”

9. You think about taking a shower and say the same thing (opting instead for the quick rinse because you’re really already wet from running in the rain).

10. You post all this to your blog, and wait anxiously for replies! Happy Tuesday!

PS: The water last night was from the toilet upstairs, which just took a lot longer to fill than it should have when it was used in the middle of the night. I'll have to look into that...

What’s that sound?

[Drifting up from consciousness…]

Ugh! Why am I awake?! What time is it, anyway?

[Looking at the clock: 3:35]

What the crap? Why am I awake at this ungodly hour of the morning?

[The fog begins to clear]

OK. I hear a sound. What is it?

[Sitting up in bed, listening intently]

It’s not the water heater. Is it the furnaces? No. It sounds like running water, though.

[Getting out of bed, pulling on robe and heading toward the bathroom at the opposite end of the house]

I can’t hear it over here. It must be just at the front half. I should pee while I’m here. It’s gonna suck for me to be playing with water in the middle of the night and have to pee at the same time.

[Taking care of business]

Hey, the noise I heard sounds distinctly like a toilet running. That can’t be good. It means that the toilet upstairs is either running (and has been for, like, hours) or it’s leaking and the ceiling is going to come crashing down on Suzanne any second.

[Going back to the bedroom, breathing a small sigh of relief that the ceiling is still intact]

The noise is still there. Crap! Maeve and Caleb are going to be hard to wake up at this time of the morning.

“Suzanne, are you awake enough to hear my voice?”

“grunt.”

[Explaining problem]

“Should I call up there?”

(still sleepy) “Yeah, you should.”

[Searching in the dark for a phone; dialing]

7 - 7... “Brian.” 3 - 7... “Brian, it stopped.”

“What?”

[Listening]

“Huh. You’re right. It stopped.”

[Lying in bed, spending the rest of the night listening for water…]

“Write something in your blog, so I can read it.”

Karla said this to me yesterday. Here you go. A Pulitzer prize winning blog entry coming up.

Truly, the reason I haven’t written anything before now is just that, well, I’ve been feeling this odd need to disconnect from the on-line collective. I’m not really sure why. Have you ever had those times when you just didn’t feel like talking to people? Well, it’s exceedingly rare that I’ll feel like that with people in real life (I get way too much out of in-person interactions). Blogging, though, feels like talking without the interaction (although I love those you who take the time to comment; it’s the closest thing to it in the blogosphere). This past week, I didn’t feel like just talking.

Life at Wayfarer House has been good. I’ve been busy at school with grading and Written Elements. I’ve been motivated well to get out and train, and I’ve even managed to get some yard work done. Wifeness has been reading on things teacherly, but also took an evening to go over the hill for a craft night at a friend’s house. The girls have been playing outside a lot (stay out of the compost!), and they had their first recorder concert—complete with program, flowers and reception—yesterday. NiNi wore the customary black dress. SiSi wore her “good jeans” and a buttondown shirt. The video has been converted for uploading online, but I don’t know when/if that’ll happen. I’ll post here if it makes it that far. Otherwise, you’ll have to ask for it when you come to visit.

Karla’s been getting stronger every week. She’s started volunteering at the local library a couple of days a week, and she says that it’s going well. It’s not exhausting her as much as she thought, which is (I hope) telling her that she can stretch out a bit to do more physical things like walking and riding her bike a bit. These things will increase her metabolism, as well as her appetite, and will promote the good kind of weight gain she needs. Not that I’m using my blog to reinforce what I’ve been telling her all along or anything.

Dani and Joe stopped by spontaneously last night, and it was wonderful to see them. They look happy, and sounded as though things in their world are well. They are clearly happy parents of a toddler, and that brings my heart joy. Every baby deserves parents that are attentive and joyful and loving, and Dani and Joe are all of these and more.

I’m not sure what the day holds in store, except for softball practice in the afternoon. I’m ok with not figuring that out just now. Frankly, I’m going to be content just to sit outside, drink my coffee and listen to the sounds of a cool morning in springtime.

Somewhere in the world...

...the weather is tumultuous, turbulent, maybe even cataclysmic. Not so here at Wayfarer House. As I sit on the porch enjoying the evening, there is some heat radiating from the abnormally warm day, but the breeze is cool and tender and it makes pipe smoke twist and swirl lazily as it moves away into the darkness. The tranquil weather seems to have caught the mosquitos off their guard; I have seen but one all evening. It seems to have caught people as well. No one has opened their windows and the heavy whine of air conditioning is notably absent from the otherwise harmonious song of a late spring evening in the Pioneer Valley. I endure the seemingly unending dark time of winter for evenings just such as this. My body and soul are quietly rejoicing in their coming.

No records were attempted, and none were broken

My road bike finally had its inaugural ride today.

20 miles (10 of hills, 10 of flat)--1:05:40.

Meh.

Last year’s best was 57:14. Last year’s ride nearest to this date was ±1:10.

So starts the outdoor riding season.

Quick Note

Early start. Beautiful Day. Karla’s up. Lots of driving. Playing disc golf. Dinner out with wifeness. Garbage ready for tomorrow. Do I have pants?

Bits of Stuff (not that kind!)

I’m a burglar. Apparently, that’s what the softball team I now play for is called. Now to get my arm into shape!

Lizzie did a 6-mile run in 49 mins. I told her I was chasing that time. The fastest I ran that distance last year was 53 mins. I have a ways to go.

The kids are off to hang with the Matriarch for a couple of days. I’m driving them up today, and planning to pick them up Saturday. I’m not staying. I have stuff to do!

That stuff includes taking Karla down to see her family tomorrow (her cousin Ellie does kinesiology, and has been working with her for the last couple of months) and going to play disc golf. The weather needs to be enjoyed while it lasts!

Our town will have a new mayor come June. Let us hope whichever of the two candidates gets the office does a better job than the incumbent who’s leaving it.

My car is going under the wrench. Hopefully, she’ll be up and running by week’s end, and without all the fluids leaking every which where.

JRH: Thank you for telling me what was going on, and I’m sorry. I totally get how that just takes the wind right out of your sails. I’m here (and available) whenever.

Chili: Thanks for the info about Angela Maiers! She’s new to me and, although I’m still just getting into her stuff, I’m liking what I’m seeing and hearing.

Bessie: Hang in there! You and the kiddo will do fine. Help each other stay focused. Reach out it you need to.

Children of mine: Go get in the shower!

Every Single Year

I went to try out for a local co-ed softball team today. Three hours of practice today, and more on Tuesday. It was fun! No, really. I very much enjoyed myself, but I am continually amazed that I have to relive the same pain every season during the first couple of practices until my arm gets up to speed. It’s worthy of a 10 Things Tuesday post, but I'm posting it early because it's late and this is what's in my brain. Here they are: Ten things that hurt the first time in any given year that I do them.

1. Putting on cleats. Actually, this hurts twice a year--once for softball and once for soccer. It’s not the putting them on so much that hurts, though. It’s the blisters I get after the first practice.

2. Playing soccer. It used to be the running that killed me. That’s gotten better some since I’ve started training for triathlons. Now it’s the overuse of my left leg (the one that does all the long kicks). I feel it in my hip now in a way I never used to, and I get it no matter how long I warm up. It goes away after the second or third practice, but I have learned not to kick too much or too hard in the early part of the soccer season. Of course, I don’t have to worry about that for the foreseeable future…

3. Riding my bike. That first ride, no matter how far, no matter how much padding I wear, always leaves my ass sore. It’s like the calluses just melt, and quickly! A month off the saddle, and it’s like I haven’t sat in it for 10 years. What the crap?!

4. Throwing a softball. As mentioned above, it never fails that the first couple of days of intense practice will cause my triceps and shoulder to throb. It’s not incapacitating if I’m good about warming up beforehand, but I have had that uncomfortable twinge remind me some years that I am not giving adequate love to my arm during “spring training”.

5. Doing yard work. Why does turning the compost pile or raking leaves kick my ass like it does? Am I getting old? Don’t answer that.

6. Running more than 5k. [knock on wood] I’ve been doing well in the early part of the tri season on this. My last run was 3.5 miles (5.5k), and I ran it in decent time with no soreness or blistering. I’m certain that my 5.5 mile run later this week will not go so well.

7. Shoveling snow. Snow is not supposed to be heavy. It’s supposed to be light and fluffy. It should, therefore, not put my in traction to shovel it. I’ve taken this up with Mother Nature. She says life’s a bitch, and to suck it up.

8. Lifting weights. I’m sure that if I did this regularly all year long, this wouldn’t be a problem, but I don’t. I do well for a couple of months at a stretch, then move on to something else until I realize I’ve neglected it, then I go back and start my regimen from scratch, at step one (that’s where I’m at now).

9. Spend time in the sun. I never used to burn. Then I moved to Las Vegas. Now I burn, and that shit hurts! How am I supposed to get an even tan if I have to wear sunscreen all the time? All I ever get anymore on my legs is a weird looking pattern that is a combination of cycling shorts, soccer socks and sandals, all at the same time. I’m a freak! Well, ok. I am anyway, but I shouldn’t have to advertise it through my tan lines!

10. Cleaning out the mudroom. This is more of a psychic hurt than a physical one. Also included in this category are cleaning out of the basement, the front entryway and the Tupperware drawer.

Vacation Mode

I made it to vacation, but it wasn’t pretty. Rather, it felt more like crawling across the finish line gasping for breath. At least it did on the inside. Still, to finish is to win. It’s not figure skating. I don’t have to look good doing it.

Friday actually passed on a high note. I had serious concerns about the readiness of my students for the exam they were supposed to take so I left it open for them to put it off if they felt they weren’t prepared, but many of them decided to take it on schedule, and they did very well. I’m sure it looked curious to people to see them on the phone all around the school talking in Spanish! The rest of them were told that they could call me over vacation if they wanted to get it out of the way (It was a true SNL moment when they all flipped out their cells to punch in the number). To have so many of them step up and take the plunge was a testament to how confident they felt about what they knew, and it made me happy to see that, especially after spending most of the week worrying about how I’m going to get my “students on the fringe” across the line.

As I move into “vacation mode” I have several irons in the proverbial fire. The yard work is weighing on me, so I’m going to start on that first (weather permitting). I have also thrown the gauntlet at the mudroom, for it is flaunting its disorganization at me and I will tolerate it no longer. The basement, while not boastful in its disarray like the mudroom, must be attended to so I can begin the several home repairs that must be completed this year. My woodshop is in the basement, and currently buried under layers of detritus that could easily be used to correctly date periods of history. There is grading that must be dealt with so I can focus on the 70 or so 6-page papers that will be coming as soon as classes start again. The list is longer, but if these are not on it by week’s end, I will consider that I have done well with my time.

“Vacation mode” is not all about work, of course. I’m going to a softball practice tomorrow to see about playing on a co-ed team. I happened across the notice that this team was looking for a player and, after talking with the guy who organized it, I thought it would be a fun way to fulfill my competitive spirit (the team flavor of it, anyway) now that soccer is off the radar. My bike is down from the attic, as well. It needs some love to get it ready for the road, but I’m looking forward to finally putting some miles under my fat ass in the out-of-doors. Disc golf is looking good, when I drop the girls off at the matriarch’s at the mid-week. In the evenings, I’m looking forward to reading The Unredeemed Captive (Demos, 1995) and to continuing the roleplaying story our house has been building for the last 5 years.

I’ve decided I am not going to use this vacation to work on Community School stuff. While I recognize that it is important to keep it moving forward (and that it is not doing so at the moment), I have recognized that I just cannot focus on it well right now. It requires so much of my concentration, and my brain is tired. Part of the reason I have planned what I do for the next week is to give it some time to relax and get some of its power back.

The Wrong Parents

Why is it that the parents you need to see are not the parents who show up for Parent/Teacher Conference Day?

I met with parents all afternoon and, while it was certainly wonderful to sit with committed parents about the wonderful work their kids are doing in my class, it was not how I might have best spent those four hours. Of the 75 students in my classes, 6 of them are either beyond hope or very close to it. I would have liked to talk to these parents to help figure out how to support these kids next year. I have another 10 who, while not at the door of No Credit, have some serious work to do if they want to get through the class in good form. I would like to talk to these parents to help put supports and routines in place to make the work these kids have to do a little less painful.

I love dishing to the 59 other sets of parents, extolling the virtues and successes of their offspring. It makes everyone feel good, and heaven knows there is not enough of that in public education. They’re just the kinds of conversations I needed to be having today.

Having said that, it really is difficult to take full responsibility for initiating the dialog. These parents have known for a while that their students have been struggling. They’ve gotten the reports from school. In many cases, I’ve tried to call or email home. It is truly unfortunate that these parents are only rarely able to unilaterally give quality help to their children when they need it but, instead of working with me to collaborate on ways to get their kids the help they need, they avoid or ignore the situation. This is often exactly the behavior that led to the problems the students, themselves, are having.

I get better results when I work with the student directly (these are high schoolers, mind you, so I can do that). I believe strongly in teaching young adults to make decisions for themselves, and they appreciate the opportunity to work their problems out on their own and, far more often than not, they full take responsibility for the results of their efforts. If they earn credit, they are proud of the fact that they did it on their own; if they don’t, there’s no blame thrown around. They may be angry or sad or disappointed, but they own the result. This is as good a thing to teach as Spanish or French, I think,

I wish the adults could learn the same thing.

The Grill is On

It’s not quite warm enough to eat outside, but we were having turkeyburgers for dinner, and they really needed to be grilled. OK, *I* needed them to be grilled. The smell of natural hardwood smoking in the grill (we do it old school at Wayfarer House), combined with the heavenly aroma of meat over flame makes my mouth water every time!

It was unfortunate that the year’s first effort did not come out as well as I would have liked. It wasn’t the fault of the grill, though. It was the meat. Turkeyburger is low in fat. This is a good thing dietarily, but it is a decided negative in terms of its grillability (and, yes, I’m saying that’s a word). Meat that is low in fat comes off the grill looking like a rock and, much like meat that’s left in the crockpot too long, ends up feeling dry and tough in the mouth. It has bad mouth feel.

There are two things needed to keep meat moist when it’s cooked: Low heat and high moisture (usually, fat). Pan-frying turkey burgers is easiest because you can control both elements, but on a charcoal grill this is more difficult to manage. I have lots of tricks figured out for chicken, fish and red meat, but I’ll admit that pork and turkey have proven more challenging to master. I’m going to do some research, though. This year, I will conquer both!

A true grillmaster never accepts that meat cannot be properly done over flame.

¿Bueno? ¿Quién habla, por favor?

There is one week to go before vacation.

I may not make it.

The saving grace is that my students are doing a fair amount of independent work (reviewing numbers, verbs, how to spell, and basic conversation) so they can be ready for their exam, which starts this Friday. They have to call me on the phone and have a conversation.

This is harder than it appears.

If you think about it, we do an awful lot of non-verbal communicating when we talk face-to-face. We use our hands and our faces, even our body position, to say a lot of things. When you’re not fully fluent in a language, you rely on those things to understand what someone else is saying because you won’t necessarily get the words. On the phone, there is none of that. It is unnerving for first-year students because they don’t feel like they have enough language to do it (although I, as their teacher, know they do). They just need to be reminded of where it’s at, and they need time to practice using it.

Thankfully, there’s not a lot of teacher prep involved here because they’ve seen all the stuff already. I just have to put activities together that help them use it. I’m glad for that. I’ve got no patience for doing material prep this week.

Frankly, I’ve got no patience for even going to school this week. There’s a nice, long list of things I’d like to spend my week doing: Disc golf, cycling, writing, reading and home improvement are among the top 20. Kasey Kasem won’t even see school on his countdown.

He would, however, see an imaginary long distance dedication from me to my brother, who finished his EMT training this week. WOOT! I’m proud of you, Dan!

Kasey, will you please play It’s a Long Way There, by the Little River Band? Thanks!

Mechanics Should Not Be Comedians

I brought my car in last week to get the oil changed, and to figure out where the antifreeze was leaking from. You can smell it burning if you’re idling. It’s not pouring out of the car, but it’s good to know the details of such a thing.

Our mechanic, the classic definition of a stoic New-Englander, came to me after the work was done to say, “I have good news and bad news.” This is not fair, because no mechanic will give good news that is better than the bad news. OK, that’s not true. I had it happen once, when my 4-Runner blew its head gasket. The mechanic said, “I have good news and bad news.” I expected the worst. He said, “The bad news is that it’ll cost about $1,400 to fix.” Damn! Then he said, “The good news is that it’s free.” THAT is good news that is better than the bad news (it turns out that it was covered under a factory warranty).

That didn’t happen this time. He just said, “The bad news is that it’ll cost about $1,400 to fix.” Damn, again!

Fast forward to today. I bring in Wifeness’ minivan in to get its oil changed. Our mechanic comes up to me and says, “Ummm…”

I don’t even get up out of the chair. “This isn’t good news, is it.”

“No.”

“How much is it going to cost.”

“Well, it won’t be $1,400.”

Is that a joke? Did you just make a joke?? I’m funding your vacation this summer, and you’re trying out your comedy routine! I couldn’t help laughing, though.

PS: It was $1,100. So much for the tax return.

The wizarding world would have been proud…

My sports class played quidditch today for the first time. I’ve been developing a version of muggle quidditch off-and-on for the last couple of years. I wanted to create a game that was relatively simple to explain, cheap to play and supported a broad range of high school student participation. Several versions of the game have been developed in the last 10 years or so, and each one has good points, but none quite worked right for the classes and students I have in my sports classes. A couple of weeks ago, though, I finally felt like I had just the right combination of rules and equipment, and I asked the class if they wanted to “playtest” the rules. They got really excited! Who knew my sports class was full of Harry Potter geeks?

To give you an idea of what muggle quidditch is like, think of ultimate frisbee (with a ball, not a disc), dodgeball and capture the flag, all happening at the same time. It’s wildly chaotic to think about, but even more so to actually watch happen. I can also say that it was an interesting and entertaining challenge to officiate.

Today we played quidditch for an hour in the cold, raw weather that blanketed the Pioneer Valley (weather should never be an impediment to quidditch, after all). There was a lot of running, chasing, beating, bludging, seeking and, on occasion, points were scored. Everyone said they'd had fun. They even asked if we could play it again on Thursday.

I guess I'm bringing my Gryffindor socks.