Another photo from Jones Gap.
From this Summer
Month: August 2020
Downtown
We decided today we needed to get out, to take the kids and the dog and go into the world. Our first stop: a new mural downtown.
It took a month to pain this eight-story mural, and it’s been in the news a few times.
Afterward, we went for a walk in the ever-growing park downtown, followed by a light dinner.
It was almost like normal times except for the masks, which we left off most of the time as there were hardly any people about.
1991
Game 2
First Week
Whew — Thursday. I made it. Or rather, “I MADE IT!” I can’t believe i just taught the same lesson four times a day for four days — sixteen times the same lesson. THE SAME STINKING LESSON!. I thought i would go absolutely stark raving mad before it was all over. And yet I somehow made it through.
I did realize in sixth period — or was it fith period? They’re all running together for me — that I didn’t do the student handbook stuff with them today. And to be honest, I’m not even sure when I stopped doing it. Did I do it with third period today but not the other periods, or did I just neglect it completely today? I really don’t remember.
When you teach the same thing over and over, it really becomes difficult to remember what you’ve done when. I would get to a point in the lesson and think, “Wait didn’t I tell them this earlier? Or was that last period?” And honestly, I could just as easily ask myself, “Or was it the period before that?” Every period seemed to blend into the next; the last four days have been a blur, a smear of repeated instructions and jokes. I found myself saying even the same off-the-cuff jokes as well, repeating them if they amused me even vaguely the first time I made them. The pinnacle of the dad jokes joke? I thought of it in fourth period today (Or was it third? Or fifth?) and repeated it the other periods. It’s no longer off the cuff if you’re doing it with intention, is it?
Still, there was a certain ease to the week. I never had to stop and think, “Wait, what am I doing tomorrow?” The answer was always the same.
I remember reading a book — a Malcolm Gladwell book, I think — about the value of repetition for toddlers. It was about the show Blues Clues and the fact that apparently, the series aired the same show every day of the week, thus repeating the week’s episode five times. It had something to do with the comfort of predictability. When the kids watched the same show for the third or fourth time, they knew exactly what would happen next, and that gave them some kind of comfort. It reminds me of E and his ability to watch the same episode of Mighty Machines over and over. “Deep Underground” was a favorite — he must have watched that ten or more times. If streaming the show on Netflix could somehow wear it out, that’s just what he did.
Yet despite all that, the repetition didn’t do anything for me but tire me out. If I had to do that one more time, I think I’d mutiny. “Mr. Finlay, I refuse to do that lesson one more time! Not even once!” Mutiny on the Hughes!
I’m also a little surprised that I managed to write four times in this journal about essentially the same thing: the first week back. The days, despite their repetition, have had a certain different quality all their own. In fact, the word count shows that I’ve done more each day than I did the previous day, which was the opposite of what I expected.
Random Picture from the Past
Living in Lipnica, I spent a lot of time with friends in this bar or that bar, talking and just passing the time. One evening, sitting with my best friend, I snapped a picture. I had my camera with me because it was the last night that particular bar was going to be open. He turned his head just as I snapped the long exposure, and the resulting image was otherworldly — haunting and somewhat terrifying.
Masking Scooters
Masks
Students in our district are required to wear masks when social distancing is not possible, and most of the students, when given the option, leave their masks on most of the time. When they’re sitting at their desks in the nearly-empty classrooms, they can take their masks off (teachers are forbidden to do so), but that usually doesn’t happen until 10-15 minutes into the class (in my experience). As a result, I form an impression of what kids look like solely from their eyes, forehead, hair, and ears (if visible). When the masks come down for a few moment, it’s often like I’m suddenly looking at another person. My mind has tried to fill in the blanks, adding a nose and a mouth, but a given student’s nose and/or mouth are often not what I’m expecting.
“Wow,” I think, “his nose is a lot more Roman than I was expecting.”
“My, she has a really small mouth! I didn’t expect that!”
So for a few moments, their physical appearance is like their personality: I see just a bit of it and am left imaging the rest. When that other bit comes out, I’m sometimes surprised.
A Scooter
The Boy spent some of his first communion loot on a long-longed-for scooter.
And while the camera is out, why not try making some faces?
2020 School Year Day 2
We’ve finished two days of school. I swear it feels like a week already. There’s nothing like doing the same thing over and over to drive the joy out of something. Today, the same lessons as yesterday: one lesson four times, the other once. And what’s worse: this is only the halfway point. I still have to do the same lesson just as many times as I’ve already done it.
As with yesterday, I tried journaling with my journalism/creative nonfiction students today:
Day two is now behind us. I feel like we’ve been here for a week. I’ve done the same thing with eight — count them, eight — classes, and I still have eight more to do. I’m already seeing that the plan to try to do the same lesson with the in-person kids throughout the week was an absolutely ridiculous idea: I’d go stark raving mad if I had to do every week like this week, with the same lesson over and over and over and over and over and over and over. (I’m tempted to do that sixteen times, but I don’t even want to try to keep track of how many times I’ve actually typed it…)
So what was different about today as opposed to yesterday? New kids — the obvious answer. Some very entertaining kids, including siblings of folks I”ve taught in the class (at least two that I can think of). Some very quiet kids. (I used to worry about such kids, but I’ve learned over the years that such kids are quiet as a sort of defense mechanism. What I mistook for near-apathy is in fact just a lack of certainty about where they fit in the class, what their role will be.) SOme kids with great senses of humor — kids that can take ribbing and know that I”m’ actually being silly with them and who hopefully realize I mean the exact opposite.
I also remembered to have my online meeting with kids who are still at home. I got to talk to three girls, one I’ll meet tomorrow and two I’ll meet Thursday. I don’t think anyone really realizes how far that goes in creating a positive first impression. It’s a little bit of effort that has a disproportionately large impact on one’s impression. It’s like paying a dollar and getting ten dollars worth of candy.
All these new procedures are gradually becoming new habits. I didn’t forget to spray disinfectant on any desks today, and I”m not sure I got them all yesterday. It’s one of those things that I think, “Missing one time is not the end of the world,” when, in fact, in a pandemic situation, it might very well ultimately be the end of the world for someone. It’s almost depressing to think about it like that, but viruses don’t care how we feel about them. They’re just there, doing what they do without giving it a single thought.
I am getting terribly yawny now. I always do during seventh period. When I used to have English I during seventh period, I felt those kids were getting something of a raw deal because I could never get through that class with the same enthusiasm as I did with other classes. I found myself wishing I’d filmed fourth period so I could just say, “Watch this video and do it along with them…” It was the same way yesterday, and as a result, I went to bed shortly after nine. I was so exhausted that it was difficult to focus. I guess it’s the way every year during the first few weeks: my body is used to a different schedule, and it rebels at having revert back to a school-year schedule.
It was an especially long day because it was the Girl’s first volleyball game. Possibly the last — who knows in these times. Is it safe? We all take the most precautions that we can. It’s such an important element in L’s life, so important to her mental heath — does that outweigh the risks? What exactly are the risks? It still seems so unlikely and yet so inevitable.
The Girl did well; her team won both sets. She had a couple of really good saves, and in set one, her spike was the winning point (if memory serves).
Her school won both sets easily, and the coach was wise and sportsmanlike enough to pull almost all the starters when the second set was clearly in the bag and put some sixth- and seventh-graders in to get some experience.
A good day, but tiring.
First Day 2020
It’s an odd thing, repeating the same thing four times. Four times. Four times. Four times. But that’s what I did today, doing the first day scenario four times as I have four English I Honors classes this year. But in fact, I’ll be repeating today’s lessons four days, hitting a quarter of the students in a given period each day. That’s an altogether different issue: repeating the same lesson sixteen times.
That’s the Covid-19, 2020-school-year reality.
The only exception to this is journalism, which is not journalism this year because it’s logistically impossible. Instead, it’s “Creative Nonfiction” — close but not really the same at all. In that class, I had the kids start their journals, and I wrote in my own to model the expectation and show that when I say “You can write about anything,” I mean it:
The first day of the dreaded 2020 school year is over and what do I have to show for it? Well, I’m quite frankly completely sick of this mask: I haven’t worn a mask continually ever. Evetr. During last week, I took it off in the classroom, but GCS requires teachers to wear a mask when around students, and honestly, if the didn’t require it, I would be a little upset. It’s a pain, but it’s for everyone’s safety.
Still, there were a lot of things I didn’t expect. For one thing, it’s much harder to understand what students are saying when they’re wearing masks. I had one girl who spoke very quietly, and I had to ask her to slip her mask off for a second because I couldn’t understand what she was saying at one point. And it happened more than once now that I think about it. Another unexpected element was how warm my face got with it on. Having not worn a mask for more than a hour at a time, I didn’t realize how my face would warm up and just stay warm. My wife had to wear a mask every day when she was still working at __, and she told me how hot it was, but it really didn’t register that it would be my reality when the school year started. A final unexpected element was how I could get used to it. Despite the heat and the other challenges, there were points that I wasn’t even thinking about it — until my nose itched and I went to scratch it.
Still, it’s a small price to pay. I’m glad to be back in the classroom with students. That 100% online teaching was hardly teaching. Granted, I didn’t do any teaching today to speak of (well, perhaps showing students how to organize their Drive folders a bit), but still, being physically with the students–there’s no substitute for it. I don’t really like that I won’t see these kids for a week after they leave today, though I know it’s necessary for preventing the spread of our covid reality. Will I remember everyone’s name in a week after not having seen them? I kind of doubt it. I’m so terrible with names as it is: having a week between each meeting will make it all the more difficult. That’s tempered by the fact that I”m only learning 4-7 names per period. Despite that, I doubt I’ll remember every name next Monday.
(I just had a realization: if we have a snow day, one group of kids is missing essentially a whole week of school. It’s another argument against having in-person days different lessons from what online kids are doing.)
I will have to write a “first” entry three more times this week.
That’s the Covid-19, 2020-school-year reality.
The Night Before
Tomorrow is the first day of school. We were supposed to start a week ago, but for whatever reason, the district moved the start date back a week. Kids were supposed to come to the school in shifts and get their Chromebooks and do some other administrative-type things. A lot of kids did; a lot didn’t.
We were supposed to have elearning starting tomorrow for those not coming into the school building (75% of the students on any given day). Instead, since the district was having issues with Google Classroom rosters, we’re doing school-wide lessons instead of teacher/subject-specific lessons.
Everything is turned, twisted, confused, and confusing. For the first time in my teaching career, including when I was student-teaching, I’m going into the first day of school with no clear idea of how things will go, what we will do, when we will do it.
And I’m completely okay with that. Seriously — no stress at all. This is going to be the year (as long as we’re going to school in person in one form or another) of letting go. This is the year of flexibility.
We — teachers, students, and parents — will become figurative contortion artists.
First Communion
Prep
Today was a day of preparation. Rosol for tomorrow; lots of cleaning; a bit of discussion.
Tomorrow is the Boy’s first communion. We’re having the god-parents and their families over for dinner tomorrow after Mass.
Boston Diner
Stop Everything
How do you plan for elearning without computers? It’s a paradox — an oxymoron, even. You can’t do it any more than you can have a book-free book club or a cycling club with members who don’t own bikes.
Nevertheless, I spent the day trying to do just that. And when I’d come up with something that wasn’t entirely meaningless but not critical for students to complete, the AP comes in my room and tells me, “Don’t hate me. I just found out that all the lesson plans for next week will be supplied by the district.” It seems there are issues with technology — Google Classroom, to be specific — that make any significant rollout next week all but impossible.
What could we do but laugh at that point?
More Surprises
For next week, we’re to prepare a week of elearning for the kids. All the students will come in for one class period (for the week), but they’ll spend the rest of the time doing elearning at home.
I found out today, though, that I can’t make any plans that assume they have computers because they won’t be getting their Chromebooks until they come to class that one day. (Never mind that the district set aside this week for students to come in and get their Chromebooks…) So I’m to plan elearning that includes no elearning.
I’m still trying to figure out just how that might work…
Trim
The beard was getting out of hand.
I’d sworn that I wouldn’t trim the thing until we went back to school, back to school for good, not in some awkward, inefficient once-a-week/elearning hybrid. Real school.
When I put on a mask, it looked absolutely horrible.
And it left this awful wrinkle in the beard, a little curl that forced the lower part of the beard to shoot straight out, away from my face like a cowlick from hell.
So there was only one thing to do: let L do what she’s been begging to do for some time now. “When you trim it, let’s put the mask on and the cut around it.
The results, after the initial trim, weren’t that promising. I went in and cleaned it up but never got a real “after” picture.
But she enjoyed doing it, and the Boy enjoyed photographing the adventure.
Working with the Dog
The Day After
16
It doesn’t seem like that long ago. Yet it does. Worlds away.
Happy 16th anniversary to my one and only love — I have no idea how you’ve put up with me this long.
Family Sports
“Can we play some family sports tonight?” the Boy asked during dinner. He’s always interested in doing something as a family: a family bike ride, a family film, a game of family soccer. But our busy lives (busy even in this time of pandemic) being what they are, it’s rare that we get to play together. Tonight, for example, K had to write an offer on a house for one of her clients, and that takes a fair amount of time. So I went out with the kids and the dog and played some soccer and volleyball with them.
Tonight, the Boy learned a lesson during the game. He’d been bragging to L, insisting that he was a much better soccer player than she. Had the Boy developed fully the critical thinking skills a thirteen-year-old has, he would have looked at relative size, relative experience, and relative speed and thought, “It’s unlikely I’m much better than she.”
Then again, I’ve had plenty of thirteen-year-olds challenge me to chess, swear their going to beat me badly, and then ask as soon as the board is set up, “So, how do you play?” that a thirteen-year-old’s critical thinking skills can be less than ideal.
So they played. E lost. E fussed. I encouraged. And in the end, instead of giving up, he kept trying, kept attacking, and made some really good plays in the end.
More Questions
We’re meeting with our kids once a week: each class is divided into four groups, with each group meeting on a given day. The other days the students are engaged in online learning or e-learning or whatever it’s called now. So here was my question: how do I plan lessons around that. Two options seemed obvious:
- Teach a special lesson on the day that the kids are with me and something else for the other kids. This seems to make the most of the fact that we’re together, in person. We don’t want to spend that time on activities that don’t need me right there — like reading a short text. We want that time for discussions, for one-on-one help. For things like that.
- Teach the same thing to the kids at home and at school.
Obviously, from the argument I just made, I was leaning toward option one. But then there’s all the potential disasters:
- It will be almost impossible for the kids to keep up with what’s what.
- Forget the kids — it would be tough for me to keep track of who’s where doing what.
- What happens if we have a fire drill or something on that day? Those kids just lose out on that particular lesson.
- What happens at the end of the quarter? Everyone is not at the same place at the same time. How can I equitably grade them?
Yet the second option has similar issues. I have to make sure that the activities are equitably spaced out among the days: I can’t have Monday kids always doing close reading with me and Thursday kids always writing things based on Monday’s close reading. Then there’s the question of how to assess and provide feedback to the kids who were at home that day. Do I come home from school and spend another six hours going over what kids did online?
The argument for e-learning until things to back to normal grows stronger…