I’m back. Trip was great!

I’ll post pics soon. The WiFi at the house is dead (I think the humidity killed the router while I was gone), so I have to sit near the modem with an Ethernet cable to send and receive (I’m doing email and such in batches). Hopefully, we’ll be back to warp speed in a couple of days.

I have a list of stuff to do that must be 1½ pages. I’m going to shorten it some, then come back here.

Until then, let me introduce you to someone I met along the way. I never did get his name. He was quite friendly, though. I think he wanted to eat my gloves.

Stage 4: Stowe to Enosburg Falls, VT.

The highlight of this leg of my journey is the climb to Smuggler’s Notch. In the early 1800s, the US Congress placed an embargo on the imports of all English goods in an attempt to avoid becoming involved in the wars declared against the French Empire under Napoleon. The British circumvented the embargoby simply shipping their food, clothing and medical supplies to Canada and smuggling the materials down the Long Trail and through what is now called Smugglers’ Notch Pass. The geology of the pass is, apparently, well suited for smuggling because of its remoteness and the fact that it is laced with many caves and caverns which served as hideaways and could be used to store goods and supplies. For well over 100 years, Smugglers’ Notch was used to transport illegal goods into and out of the United States -- from cattle to slaves to alcohol, during the Prohibition Era. The caves are good for storing illegal alcoholic beverages at near room temperature, or so I’ve read.

After I’ve climbed the Notch, I have just 30 miles to ride before I arrive at Carol and Pete’s. They’re hosting the Morrison Family Reunion this year and have, for the second time, offered lodging to our family at this event. Their property is 1/10 mile from the Canadian border (the last time we were up there, we snuck across through the woods for just long enough that the helicopters came out looking for us -- it was very exciting). By that time, I will have crossed over covered bridges, coasted past cornfields and grazing cows, taken in a landscape dotted by churches with tall steeples and 18th-century brick houses behind white picket fences. I will probably race at least one farmer on a tractor and more than a few old timers will stare at me from their dilapidated porches. I will ride quietly though more than one quaint village, but I will also see more than my share of metropolitan New England. Although I will miss several sites of historic interest because they are not on my direct path, I feel like I will finally get to know the state where I spent 5 years of my life--a period of time not nearly long enough to shed the term “flatlander,” as Vermonters call everyone who hails from across state lines.

Stage 3: Rutland to Stowe, VT.

This ride is entirely along SR 100, which is widely recognized to be among the best routes in New England for viewing fall foliage (there won’t be any on my ride, not that I’d notice much of it anyway). It cuts right through the backbone of Vermont, and is said to have spectacular mountain views along its entire length. A string of picturesque little lakes runs along the road, and Moss Glen Falls, just north of Granville, is said to be home to one of the prettiest waterfalls in Vermont. Route 100 grew organically from the many miles of dirt roads that connected villages dating back to the 1700s. Vermont has about 8,000 miles of unpaved roads (only about 6,000 miles of roadway are paved in the state). To a lot of Vermonters, an unpaved road is still a better road. I think this must be because people go more slowly and are more courteous on a dirt road an, in rural Vermont, that's what life wants to be. It probably also matters that dirt roads are far cheaper to maintain than their more modern counterparts. I enjoy dirt roads, to be sure, but I won't be riding any on this trip, if I can avoid it. As primarily a road cyclist, I must confess that I'm grateful for pavement. It is smoother to ride on, less taxing to my body and less destructive to my bike.

As SR 100 transformed into a single byway in the 1800s, the quintessential wooden covered bridge many associate with Vermont country roads began to appear. The primary purpose of the cover on a bridge was to provide added durability; uncovered bridges made of wood would get wet from rain and snow, and this would attract insects and fungus which would cause the wood to rot away quickly. Most, in fact, would have to be replaced every five years. Covered bridges offered other benefits, as well, though. The interiors of covered bridges apparently doubled as a local bulletin board of sorts, and travellers could read advertisements, notices and announcements as they waited out rainstorms or gave their teams of horses a rest in the shade.

This is the longest stage of the ride at just over 72 miles, and the elevation change is subtly demanding. I’ll be looking forward to passing through Waterford (63 miles along) so I can keep my eyes out for the Ben & Jerry’s Factory Store. I will have earned a very large cone of something fattening by that point. If I’m lucky, I’ll also be meeting Wifeness & Co. on their way up. We haven’t worked the details out yet, but it would be a lot of fun to see them there!

Stage 2: Bellows Falls to Rutland, VT.

Most of this part of the trip is along SR 103, which varies in quality somewhat, but represents some wonderful scenery. One landmark of particular note along this route is The Old Rockingham Meeting House, the oldest public building in original condition in Vermont. It recalls days of old in New England, when town meetings and church services were held in the same building and there were only homesteads, not concentrated towns and villages like we’re used to today. The late 18th century structure is a rare standing example of Georgian architecture, and it comes complete with its original box pews and ornate woodwork. Like all early New England meeting houses, the Old Rockingham building served both the religious and the governmental life of a widespread community, much like an assembly hall. It was visible for miles because of its hillside location, and provided an important social monument in early town life in Vermont.

I’m hotelling it from here on, but I’m excited that I’ll get to see Erica for dinner in the evening. Erica is an alumna of mine and a veteran of my 2002 trip leading students to France. She lives near Rutland and works at Castleton State College. With so many of my students in their twenties now, it’s a rare treat to be able to connect with them in person unless they happen to live nearby. I’m very much looking forward to spending some quality time with a student I’ve not seen in entirely too long.

I expect I'll get to see some of Rutland before dinner. The original Rutland was chartered in 1761 as part of New Hampshire land grants given by Provincial Governor Benning Wentworth. Almost immediately, however, a controversy arose with New York, who claimed the same land grants under the name of Socialborough. This dispute ultimately led to settlers of the territory to form the Republic of Vermont (statehood would follow). I find this interesting because we have talked tongue-in-cheek for some time about encouraging western Massachusetts to secede from the state and join with Vermont, with whom we share a great deal of culture and social values than we do with our more urban brethren to the east. Vive la Republique!

Stage 1: Wayfarer House to Bellows Falls, VT.

Through Northfield, MA and Hinsdale, NH, this part of the ride follows the Connecticut River for long stretches. This part of New England was settled by the English in the late 17th century, but the territory was fiercely defended by Native Americans for some 80 years after that. English settlements were constantly at risk of raids by “savages”, and colonists were regularly killed or taken north to Quebec (to be held as hostages by the French). This caused settlements such as Northfield to revert to American Indian control on more than one occasion.

In April, 1747, during the French and Indian War, a party of French and Mohawk, having been turned back after a three-day attack on the fort at Charlestown, NH, made their way toward Northfield. A number of their group, lying in ambush at the north part of the town, set upon and killed Nathaniel Dickinson and Asahel Burt, who were driving cows up from the common meadows. This violent and tragic event is marked by a granite monument on the side of routes 5/10, about a mile north of the center of Northfield Village. On one side of the stone is the inscription, "Nathaniel Dickinson was killed and scalped by the Indians at this place, April 15, 1747, aet. 48." On the other it reads, "Asahel, son of Joseph Burt, companion of Dickinson and sharer of his fate, aged about 40." I have ridden by this small monument many times, but only recently stopped to read, and think about, what it said.

It is worth noting that much of the Morrison family, whose reunion I am riding to, is based in the area through which I will be riding on this day. Many live in and around Walpole, NH and across the Connecticut River in Saxtons River, VT. The Kurn Hattin School, in Putney, VT, has been an important part of the lives of several of the Morrison family.

I’ll be staying with Tom and Leanne for the evening at their home in Westminster, VT. Tom is Wifeness’ uncle, and is a master general contractor. He helped me install our dishwasher several years ago, and has graciously offered his expertise in wiring to me when I’ve had to add, remove or change outlets in the house over the years. He’s led a difficult life, but he is a good, good man. I’m grateful for the opportunity to spend time with them.

Just When You Thought...

...it was safe to go back into the water:

[WEATHER CHANNEL NEWS STORY]

I think I’ll watch Jaws today on Netflix. I'm too far inland to have nightmares about such things.

Of course, then this could happen [HERE].

Vermont 2010: An Overview in Four Stages

Because I’ll be gone for the next several days, I thought it might be good to stack up some posts for while I’m on the road. The content of these posts represent a synthesis of some background reading I’ve done in preparation for this ride. The posts are fairly short, but I hope they give some flavor to the experience I hope to have. I also spent some time reading about the area covered in the ride I took yesterday. Consider this a prologue to the longer event.

Prologue: Wayfarer House to Deerfield, Haydenville, Goshen, Ashfield, Conway, Deerfield to Wayfarer House.

Deerfield has been in my mind for a while now, since I’d read The Unredeemed Captive: A Family Story from Early America (Demos, 1994). This work recounts the story of Eunice Williams, an English colonist taken captive as a child by French and Mohawk warriors from Deerfield during a raid in 1704. Her mother, also named Eunice, was killed not far from Wayfarer House (a plaque marks the spot, and there is a covered bridge bearing her name nearby). The elder Eunice, wife of Deerfield’s famous reverend John Williams, had given birth just hours before, and was slain and thrown in the Green River by her captors because she was unable to keep pace with the march north through the frozen, snowy forest.

This story really brings to life what it must have been like to be here during those very difficult times. Another tragedy, which I only became aware of on this ride and only because I stopped to adjust my pack, is chronicled in Haydenville. On May 16, 1874, the Williamsburg reservoir dam broke, sending an avalanche of water over five of the villages that lined the Mill River Valley. When the flood reached Haydenville, the water was moving with such force that it picked up a house and slammed it into a brick factory with enough force to cause it to collapse like a cardboard box. The heaps of debris were so dense and tangled that people searching for survivors had to use crowbars to pry things apart. One hundred thirty-nine people were killed in that event, 27 of them from Haydenville.


I didn’t take a picture of the river itself, but it’s hard to imagine that it ever had enough force to cause such devastation. The village today is shown here.

The town of Conway was the victim of an earlier dam break, in 1869. Home of one of the few covered bridges left in Massachusetts, Conway has always had an abundant water supply. In its early years, this water provided power for grist and saw mills, as well as a number of tanneries. In the 19th century, a dam was created to provide a reservoir for the several woolen and broadcloth mills along the South River. These mills, the largest industries in town at the time, were all completely washed away when the dam burst. Conway has since returned to its roots as an agricultural community, and sports a number of maple sugar houses.

Not Far from the Tree...

This effort by my oldest is a comic strip, called Foop and Notch.

This is the sequel, Foop and Notch 2: Ultimate Laffs**.

I show you this not to highlight my daughters creative accomplishments, but to share with you a secret:

I did exactly the same thing when I was her age.

I don’t have copies of them (nothing like that survived the frequent relocations that occurred during my childhood), but I remember that the main characters were geometric shapes. There was a triangle, a square, the slightly nerdy rectangle and a teardrop shape that represented the female protagonist. My inspiration was Charles M Schulz’ Peanuts strip. I found out that SiSi’s muse is Calvin and Hobbs (she keeps one of the anthologies in her bed, to read as she goes to sleep).

She asked me to read her comic strips, and afterward we talked about them.

“Wow, they’re really great, SiSi! I’m curious, though. They seem rather violent. Why is that?”

She shrugged. “Kids like me think that stuff is funny, I guess.”

I remember saying the same thing to my dad.

Eerie, is what I’m saying.

** SiSi made a point of telling me that she knew this was not the correct spelling of the word, but that she decided to use it for effect. I was quietly stunned.

A Straightforward Day

This wasn’t going to be a rest day, but I’m taking the girls up to a sleepover, and I won’t get back in time to do the training ride I need to do to tweak all the settings on my bike before the long test ride this weekend. That’s ok because I get to go out on a date with my wife! Nothing exciting; a little shopping, some dinner, a movie. We might even sleep in on Saturday, since there will be no small children about.

Instead of riding, I’ll be with the girls and doing some cleanup around the house (I’ve realized I can’t find the floor on my side of the bed). I’ll feed them elevenses and the drive them up to their sleepover party at Bessie’s, get my hair cut and get back just in time to meet Wifeness down by the small mall (not to be confused with the Darth Mall) after she gets out of work. That’s the day. It’s pretty straightforward, really.

Except that it’s my birthday. Yay me!

Making Preparations...

Today is the recovery portion of the Stress and Recovery cycle, so we’ll be taking care of trip planning.

I have some equipment to buy for my ride, most notably a new front rim (the current one has a kink in it that I can’t massage out, and it wobbles a little too much at high speeds). I’m also hoping to find some new cycling shorts. The ones I use now, while perfectly effective for local daily riding, are really old and I’m worried they’re not going to survive the trip. It would not do to have one’s (only) pair of bike shorts fail halfway on a long trip!

After that, I need to put together the maps and trip notes I need into a document I can print out and take with me. I use the AAA website to plan my trips. Their tool gives me good information on where I can get food and water en route, as well as where there might be construction or other road hazards. It also creates maps that are more easily converted to what I need, although Google or MapQuest can do much the same thing.

Once I know what roads I'm taking, I’ll input the route information into mapmyride.com, which has an elevation calculator so I can see where the challenging parts of each day’s ride are. This is really helpful in terms of planning how to approach the ride on any given day. I’ll take all those notes, the maps, contact information for hotels, etc. and make a single PDF document out of it. Wifeness will get a copy for emergency purposes, and mine will live in a ziplock baggie that attaches to my aero bars, so I can get to it easily.

Then comes the packing. This trip doesn’t require camping out, so there’s no heavy gear like a tent to worry about. I can fit everything on this bag:


It really just holds the basics: glasses, compact street clothes and shoes, camera, phone, ointments (sunscreen, etc), basic toiletries -- including tp -- and pills (Ibuprofen, thyroid stuff, vitamins). I’ll carry the stuff I need to get at quickly (food, handkerchief, mp3 player) in the back pockets of my jersey, so I don’t have to stop the bike except to reapply ointments or take the occasional potty break. Trust me, the more often you get off the bike, the harder it is to get back on it.

Each trip is different, so the packing takes a little bit of experimenting to get just right. The trick is to get stuff positioned in just the right places so it’s comfortable. The pack should sit a little high on the waist as I ride, so it doesn’t pull on my lower back if I’m bent over on the drops of the handlebars. On my Lock Haven trip, this proved difficult to do because of the stuff I was carrying, so I developed a way to move the pack onto my aerobars when I need to give my body a rest from carrying it. It’s an interim sort of solution only because putting weight on the front of the bike like that changes the way it steers and gives it a sluggish feel that, when going down hills, can be unnerving. And it also takes away one of the four riding positions -- and the one that gives my body the most rest -- because I can’t lean on the aerobars while the pack is there.

I have a couple of repairs and adjustments to make before I leave. I’ll tweak the seat just a touch to accommodate for the pack, and my left shoe needs to be taken apart so I can refasten the cleat (it’s worked itself just a bit loose, so it moves when I use it to pull the pedal up from the bottom). I need to rewrap my handlebars because the tape has shifted and makes the tops all slippery now, and I need to adjust the tension on the rear derailleur cable. It sometimes shifts on its own, and that can be really annoying when you’re trying to get into a rhythm to climb a steep hill. After that, there’s some final cleaning and lubricating of parts, and then we’re ready to roll!

I have a 60-mile ride scheduled for this weekend to test everything out “on the road”. That’ll be the last real mileage I put on before I leave on Wednesday. Assuming there are no major issues, I should only have to pump the tires up on Wednesday morning before I’m ready to start off! My goal is to leave around 7:30. It's a much more pleasant thing to ride before it gets hellish hot!

Somebody's in a Hurry...

I was out on a training ride this evening when this flew by me at 80+ mph [HERE]. I was grateful to have been going the other direction. I really didn’t need to get caught up in a high-speed chase on a bicycle.

Ouch!

My tenders are tender. Chaffed. Made raw in ways such parts should not be. Thank goodness there’s a cream for that.

Those saddle calluses need to harden up; I have a bike trip to ride in a week and a half. My first since my 400 ride to Lock Haven in 2006, and I’m really looking forward to it.

I’m riding 220 miles from Wayfarer House to the tippy top of Vermont. The route is designed to take advantage of several scenic roads before culminating in a climb of Smuggler’s Notch, near Stowe, and easing my way to the Morrison Family reunion.

I was concerned I might not be able to do this ride because of my ankle, but two recent outings (20 flat miles at time trial pace and 30 miles of hills) have shown it will handle the strain. My ass, clearly, still needs some convincing.

I’ve been working out the details for lodging today, which has been an annoying challenge. The trick in planning trips like these is to find places to stay that are on the direct route, in a sweet spot of mileage (in this case, around 60 miles), but don’t cost an outrageous amount. The problem in Vermont is that lodging is...

1) rarely on the direct route,
2) rarely about 60 miles apart,
3) totally outrageously priced.

To that end, I’m looking for couches to sleep on. I’ve got in-laws in Bellows Falls who have graciously offered to let me stay with them, and I’m reaching out to an alumna of mine near Rutland for some help, but the area around Stowe is proving impossible. Does anyone have any ideas/suggestions/friends with couches?

Tomorrow, I’m taking the van in to get a new starter. While that work is being done, I’ll be riding. Then I expect I’ll be looking for some more cream. And maybe some chamois. Is that too much information?

Smuggler's Notch

Freedom?

Everyone else in the house is gone. It’s just I (which never sounds right, even though that’s the correct way to say it). I’ll be alone until Sunday afternoon. You’d think this represents a time of complete freedom, and it is in the sense that there’s no responsibility to make dinner, do dishes, chivvy kids in/out of the shower. But when it comes right down to it (on this occasion, anyway), things won’t play out all that differently from normal day. I suppose I could let everything slide, put on my Hawaiian shirt and go find a place to party, but that’s never really been my style.

Plus, I’ve got stuff to do. There’s a dump run to be made, visits to the bank, library and BJs (the garbage bags they have now just don’t stay in the can right since they “improved” them). There are repairs to be made upstairs in the apartment. I need to get out on my bike again to work my ankle. I need to do some sheets.

My day will be full, and that brings peace to me.

Am I sad, or what?

To catch you up...

I apologize for the lengthy absence. I’m finally feeling like I’m getting a handle on my summer.

While I’ve been off-blogosphere, several things of note have happened:

I sprained my ankle a week ago. The effects of this are several: There will be no triathlons this summer; there may be no cycling to VT (more on that in a sec); many home-improvement projects will get done, albeit at a much slower pace, and with much pausing; I will have more time to spend retooling course and curriculum for the fall; I am learning to be at peace with things as they are, and not as I had planned them to be. That last one is still a work in progress.

I will be returning to soccer. Over a year ago, I walked away from athletics at my school--a program I started--to put an end to the conflict and discord that was becoming constant between myself and our school’s curricular director. The situation is complicated to explain but, in essence, it wasn’t worth putting a full-time teaching job on the line to constantly go head-to-head with this woman over a seasonal stipended position, however much it meant to me, personally. Last year, the curricular director announced that she was leaving the school and, after some lengthy discussions among people about the althetics program, its mission and its direction, I offered to come back to coaching--just coaching, no admin. This seemed to meet with a positive response from the players.

I am planning a 4-day bike trip through VT scheduled for the first week in August. My ankle has put this trip in jeopardy, but I’m making preparations to do it all the same. Today, in fact, I have the first real test of fitness and strength since the sprain--a 20-mile time trial scenario. If it goes well, we move forward. If my ankle reacts badly... The trip runs from Wayfarer House to Enosburg Falls, VT, where the annual Morrison Family reunion will take place (this reunion is for Wifeness’ family, and has been held every year for something like 60 years).

I’ve committed to be part of a trial of a new grading and reporting system for my school. We don’t use letter grades at my school; instead, we have a system that is based on levels of credit. For example, Full Credit (which equates roughly to a B in the letter system most of us recognize) is designed to basically communicate that the student knows or can do something with confidence, and without a lot of errors. We like (and there is an ever-growing body of research to support) the idea of grading in this way, but there are issues we’ve uncovered in terms of its universal application and its conversion to something colleges and universities will deign to interpret.** There are still some bugs to be worked out among the group involved in the trial, but in its basic form it won’t work all that differently from what we use now (we will still require the equivalent of FCR for students to move on), but it will be quite different in terms of how we approach grading and assessment (what goes into the actual “grade”, what the kids and parents see, how we have conversations about student work and progress). I’m blogging about this work and the retooling of my own materials and grading systems, but right now it’s a closed blog just for the teachers at my school. If I get their permission to open it up for everyone to read, I’ll post the link.

My thyroid is failing. I’ve been having problems with fatigue, weight gain, depression and muscle issues for a good while now, and I’d been to my doctor about it. We drew blood. We checked lots of things, and came up with the very likely possibility that all this was due to an erratic thyroid. Solutions? Cut it out, go on drugs, do radiation treatment.

None of those appealed so we left things be, but I committed to regular blood tests to see what was actually happening with my thyroid. Was it just being temperamental or was it actually failing? It turns out the latter, as a result of some form of autoimmune function. Solutions? See above, but really drugs become necessary. I resisted this at first because I don’t tolerate drugs well and I suck at taking pills of any kind religiously (please notice the vitamins on top of the refrigerator). The symptoms were getting really hard to work around, so last week I went back to the doctor and got a prescription for synthetic thyroid hormone which, if it proves effective, I’ll likely be taking in one form or another for the rest of my life--every day at 6am.

That’s it for now. I’m going to finish this cup of coffee and go put on some lycra. My bike has been waiting patiently for me for a while. Too long. She’s ready for a workout.

** I find it no end of ironic that the very universities doing the research that has confirmed the inefficacy of traditional grading also require it for admission to their programs.

World Cup Update...

Go, USA England Mexico Paraguay Uruguay!

Nods to Ghana for their heartbreaking loss in the quarterfinals. Seriously, if you didn't see the game, you missed some of the most epic drama ever seen in sport!

Quick Hit: World Cup

Go, USA England Mexico!

Edited 90 minutes later:

Go, USA England Mexico Paraguay!

Quick Hit: NDR 1 JPN 0 (73 min)

I’ve got a few minutes while the World Cup game is finishing (yes, I’ve watched every single one) and everyone is getting ready to head out the door to touch base with the blogosphere. I’m still here. I’m very tired. Physically tired. Emotionally tired. Spiritually tired. It’s the end of the school year, and it’s just like that for me. I have one week to go.

Next week starts with Judgement Day -- the day my books close and the students who are working either show me that they’re ready to move on or have the conversation with me about trying again. There’s professional development for 3 days next week, and then we meet as a staff to talk about what needs to be done for the fall. I’ll be able to totally separate from school on June 29th.

I’ve entered talks to return to coaching. I walked away from athletics at my school last year as a result of chronic conflict with my administration, but the entire administrative picture has changed, and the climate stands to be much more supportive of athletics. I won’t reprise my work as Athletic Director no matter what happens; the discussions we’re having only revolve around coaching. That’s just fine with me. It’s what I love most!

I’m biking 35 miles to NH tomorrow, the first real work I’ve done in three weeks. It’s going to hurt. I need it to hurt a little, to remind me that it is time to focus on training again. I have a triathlon in six weeks and a 250 mile ride just a week after. My body is going to have to gear up quickly.

OK. Everyone is leaving for a fair, so it’s time to get started with the to-do list. I’m looking forward to a quiet day of domestica. And the World Cup.

To my school's Board to Trustees

I came to this meeting at the cost of a babysitter to speak about the upcoming vote on the Governance Committee’s recommendation. I’ll sell something on eBay to get the babysitter to come back next Tuesday, but since I’ve paid for it, I don’t want to waste the chance to share the essence of some conversations I’ve been part of the last little while. I’ve been writing this during the meeting, so some of what follows has already been said by members of the Board, and it was wonderful to hear. That I’ve written this largely in the first person, then, does not mean that these thoughts are mine alone.

The Governance Committee, after some prodding, sat down with the individuals involved as potential members of its proposed interim leadership team, and they’re now seeking broader participation in the process. This is exciting news, and it is my hope that it represents an understanding of all the members of the Board about the importance of discussion in the community’s decision-making process.

I’ve been a member of this community for 8 years and I have seen that the process of soliciting the voice of our students, staff, parents and administration before a decision is made is time-consuming, and can lead to a messy brand of democracy. But for as long as I’ve been here, it has been part of the cultural fabric of the school for decision-makers to encourage those voices, to listen to them and act on the trends that come out of such dialog. One of the quiet complaints the staff in my presence in the last couple of years is that, in an effort to improve the efficiency and efficacy of decision-making, the longstanding attitude of collaboration is giving way to a hierarchical model that leaves the rank-and-file community to give voice only after the fact.

I’m excited that there has been some restoration of dialog to the decision-making process. In particular, the efforts of Jay and the many others who moderated the recent listening sessions have given the community a breath of fresh air. There are other examples, as well. I’m here to say thank you for taking the time to allow those voices to be heard, and to communicate to you that, however haphazard and boisterous such protocols may seem, they are not just the key to the best governance the Board can provide, but they serve as a comforting example for the community as a whole that the Board is truly acting on its general consensus, not simply seeking its approval for unilateral verdicts.

It is clearly understood by all of you on the Board that within this community there is a vast amount of collective wisdom and experience. Its members, together, hold a deep understanding of the unwritten rules, routines and values of this place. That we all do not all sit at these meetings should not be construed as a sign of either ignorance or indifference, and it should not lead to governance that ignores our insight. (My school) was founded on a principle of inclusion, including in its governance. We are unique in the way we have traditionally included everyone in the great conversations. It is, believe it or not, one of our strengths as an institution. When we voice our discontent, we are not complaining. We are not, as was written in the previously-discussed public minutes, simply giving the Board--problems. We are reminding you of what we recognize to be a fundamental tenet of the way (my school) should be governed. Please take the time to listen to us, not just as a group, but as individuals. And don’t just listen to us, use our voices to guide your decisions. Don’t rely on us to come to you. We’re busy doing all the little things for the school, and babysitters are expensive. Simply saying, “anyone can be part of a committee,” is not enough. Ways must be found to actively invite participation. Lao Tzu wrote once that leaders are best when people barely know they exist, when their work is done, their aims fulfilled, the people will say: we did it ourselves. This is what we, as a community, are hoping of you.

Phasing out...

My classes have what I refer to as a “phased withdrawal” at the end of each term. Essentially, this means that assignments for the class are not due all at once. Instead, they have a series of deadlines for when particular work needs to be completed and to credit standard (earlier work is due earlier, later work is due later, for example). This is so that the end-of-year routine is manageable for the students, many of whom are balancing the needs of many classes all at once, and for their beloved teacher, who has learned that it lessens the stress of the students who aren’t going to make it if I can talk to them earlier rather than later about their need to repeat the course.

We passed the first of the deadlines last Friday. Currently (and with two weeks remaining), 18% of my current enrollment will not earn credit. This is an astonishing number compared to years past, when the average was under 15% at the end of the term. The number of students who are not ready to move on could, quite reasonably, top 25% in what time is left. That is truly alarming to me, especially given the amount of support I give my students.

I have to be honest in saying I’m not entirely certain what the problem is. Some of the total is a standard number of students who simply didn’t put the time, effort and attention into the course that they knew they needed to, but this is not a sizeable percentage -- roughly only a third of those not advancing. The other 2/3, I discovered today, is composed in large part of students who gave good effort in class, but did not have the foundational skills to support daily practice outside the classroom. Simply put, they didn’t have the study habits, time management skills or organizational routines they needed to do what I was asking them to do.

Is this year’s situation an aberration? In its sheer volume, perhaps, but not in terms of the basic underlying problem -- a problem that many high school teachers are faced with. We expect students to come into our classes with certain fundamental skills in place and, when they don’t, often the only thing we can do is say, “they don’t know what they need to,” and fail them. I am convinced of the need to support students of all levels in my classes, but the matter of fundamental skills remains one that is not easily resolved by in-class differentiation.

I decided today that, in retooling for next year, I’m going to invest some time in researching how to solve this problem. It just seems like one that is thoroughly preventable, and I cannot help but believe that a solution is there to be found. Before the end of the school year, I’m going to talk to my students to get their thoughts; they are often wonderfully astute and insightful about such things. I also hope to get some time to sit with my colleagues, who understand the particular flavor of the problem as it exists in my school. Finally, I’m curious to know what you, the blogging public, think. How can teachers better support students who need the basics, but not sacrifice the other stuff? I’d love to hear what you have to say!

And after this, the laundry...

For the next ten minutes, I’m in an eddy in the otherwise swiftly moving current of my weekend, and I wanted to just say that, although there is much going on in my world, all is well and things are generally doing as they should.

The end of the school year is always a frenetic time professionally: Students panicking about whether they’ll pass, graduation rehearsals (I may not have told you this but, at my school, the graduating class puts on a show as part of the event -- it’s the kick-assin’est graduation going), meetings to deconstruct the current year, meetings to set up for the upcoming year and, in all of that, time to give some closure to my classes so there’s that nice sense of completion about what they’ve accomplished -- and they have accomplished so very much.

All this leaves the not-school parts of my world rather in limbo. I have done absolutely frick-all for training in the last three weeks (tree removal notwithstanding), the list of home maintenance projects grows daily and, in the category of things I reserve for leisure time, I have some 3,216 blog posts waiting for me to finish. In short, I have a lot that I would like to be doing, and most of it will just have to wait until school is out.

I haven’t even been keeping up on my quotes! Even so, I can leave you one that illustrates just how everyone’s brains are working at school of late:

¿Cómo se dice “now” en français? Maeve, who is destined to be my padawan learner in multilingual studies.

Happy weekend!