The raccoon family that lives in the hole in the sweetgum tree at the corner of our neighbor’s yard has had this year’s brood.
Every now and then mama comes out to check on what’s going on in the neighborhood.
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VBS 1
Years and years ago, I spent a few weeks of summers in the north of Poland, in the lake district, working at a camp for young Poles looking to improve their language ability. After a year of teaching, spending several weeks teaching some more wasn’t something I was looking forward to, but the money was decent, and I was there with friends, old and new.
The days started with lessons and ended with sports. I did a session on blues — native Polish teachers of English found it interesting, but the kids, who were into techno, not so much. That’s about all I remember of it, other than the routine of it. Up for breakfast, a couple of sessions, then off to sports after lunch.
Still, there was something pleasant about those mornings. Knowing that I wasn’t teaching toward some test or other, knowing that fun was the operative word (even if I didn’t provide it consistently for my young charges), I enjoyed working in a new place with new kids.
Today was the first day of Vacation Bible School. I agreed to serve as photographer for the camp, so instead of dropping the kids off and heading off to accomplish something or other, I went about snapping pictures.
Over 300 pictures, and only one I can post here…
Ice Cream Downtown
Party!
Graduation and fiftieth birthday.
The End, 2018
Graduation
As of tomorrow, L will officially be done with elementary school, but it was all over and done with today for all intents and purposes: tomorrow is a half-day, and today was graduation.
How in the world did six years go by so quickly? How did she jump from kindergarten — that first Meet the Teacher evening when she was enthralled with the reading pit in the library — to the end of her fifth-grade year when she looks more like a teenager than a kindergartener?
She’s no longer dependent on us for every little thing. She no longer seeks reassurance for every little thing. She no longer plays with toys or watches cartoons, except when she’s watching something the Boy has selected.
She has a sense of things that embarrass her when she once was, like most young children, virtually shameless. (And that sense of embarrassment is sometimes skewed in a distinctly teenage fashion — things that would never embarrass an adult, like taking a change of clothes in a small bag. “They won’t even notice,” I insisted. “They notice everything,” she insisted. I doubt it, but in that case, her perception is all that counted.)
It’s the end of a long chapter in her life, the end of elementary school, the end of childhood in many ways.
Party
Kindergarten Performance
Summer Nearing
Terrific Kid
E got a Terrific Kid award today.
We didn’t need an award to tell us that, but it’s good to see others recognize it.
A Letter to Students
Dear eighth graders,
As a teacher, it can sometimes be hard to remain optimistic. Every year there are those students who try one’s patience, who test one’s resolve, who feel they are incapable of doing anything good and seem determined to bring everyone down with them. And then there are just the immature attention-seekers who do anything they can to be the center of attention. Within the first class period or two, I can usually tell who all these folks are, and the rest of the year becomes a battle with their stubbornness as I try to help them see that their behaviors and choices are not only not helping them but in fact detrimental. Some never see the light, at least during this school year, and that’s why it can be difficult to fight the pessimism: those students left just as they came in, and I wonder if I helped them at all.
This year is one of the few in recent memory that is devoid of any such students. Sure, some of you tried my patience at times. Some of you sought attention in inappropriate ways. Yet all of you—each and every student—showed growth and maturity this year, and it has been a true privilege to work with you this year. I can honestly say this has been one of the best years I’ve experienced in my nearly-twenty years of teaching. I’ve seen growth in reading skills, gains in emotional maturity, a surge of confidence in cognitive ability, and most importantly, an increase in maturity in so many of you that it gives me real hope for the future.
Many of you developed new reading and thinking skills that help you approach problematic texts in new ways. Instead of throwing up your hands and saying, “I don’t get it,” you dig in and figure out some meaning, understanding that you don’t have to comprehend everything perfectly in order to understand the text as a whole. That kind of persistence will serve you well in the future, and I am very pleased to see that so many of you developed that newly-found tenacity.
Several of you noticeably grew emotionally over the course of the year. You learned to keep your anger in check, to keep your frustrations from determining your path, and to see yourself as in control of your own life. This is one of the most rewarding aspects of teaching eighth grade: kids genuinely mature in a very clear way over the course of the year, but some of you seemed to grow emotionally two or three years. Belligerence gave way to cooperation; fatalism gave way to self-confidence; apathy gave way to self-concern. Instead of worrying how you’ll make it emotionally in high school, I find myself calmly confident about how you’ll handle the challenges of high school.
Many of you became observably more confident in your cognitive abilities. You came into the class thinking that perhaps you couldn’t do the work, that perhaps things might be a bit more challenging than you’d expected, or that it would be just the same struggle as it always is. Instead, you found that your success doesn’t come just from your intelligence, which most of us underrate anyway. Most success comes from behaviors and decisions, and as your behaviors and decisions changed, so too your view of your own intelligence, and that self-possession produced still more confidence.
Finally, almost all of you grew more mature as the year progressed. You began handling challenges like an adult. You started accepting disappointments with calmness. You learned to set goals and priorities, understanding that achieving those aims often requires sacrifice.
To those of you who chose not to live up to your fullest potential, I can only say that I hope at some point in the not-too-distant-future you make the changes necessary for your success. Hard work and focus are never wasted, and it is through challenging ourselves that we grow stronger. Fortunately, you’re only a young teen: there’s still plenty of time to grow into this adult thing.
To those of you who did your best in this and other classes, thank you. Your focus and hard work are rewards in and of themselves, and they bring rich dividends, but I’ll willingly (and somewhat selfishly) admit that they make my job easier.
I have only one wish for you as this year closes out: I hope that you can look at your life at any moment and truthfully say to yourself about yourself, “I am doing the best with what I have where I am.” If you can always say that about yourself, the brightest of futures awaits. Thank you again for a wonderful year.
Best regards,
Your teacher
Sunday
Guest
Clover began barking aggressively around eight this morning.
She rarely barks, and when she does, it’s not an aggressive bark.
The cause: a visitor — a sweet huskie named Phoenix with a calm demeanor and a tag with a phone number and an email address.
The owner was out of town; someone was supposed to be stopping by to feed Phoenix.
We kept him in our backyard until early afternoon.
Clover was not at all happy about it at first. She was terrified for a good half hour. We kept them apart with leashes during that time, then decided it might be a good idea to take them for a walk together. By the time we got back home, Clover was no longer scared. Indeed — she just wanted to play herding with Phoenix, who was not too eager to take the role of a sheep.
Endings
They dread and fear it all year. It’s always lurking under every question, every assignment, every activity. It’s the biggest and most significant English test they’ve ever taken: the End of Course Exam, or EOC. A state-mandated, state-created test that counts as 20% of English I Honors students’ final grade. A truly high-stakes test. It’s a stressful test for them.
And for me: a previous principal reassigned a teacher’s English I Honors classes to another teacher because her classes’ scores weren’t to his satisfaction. That’s the rumor, at any rate. While I’ve never worried that my students’ results would be dismal enough to merit such draconian measures, I always worry. The test is, in my eyes, a measure in part of my success as a teacher. Sure, it’s more the students, but I have to present the information. I have to guide the kids through the mandated standards.
Today, we got back the scores. With a mean of 89.04 (one point shy of an A), it meant that a lot of kids left with smiles. It’s not often that I deliver such good news.
Photographing for Scouts
Friends’ troop had their graduation. I had the fun of photographing the event tonight.
Playing in the Creek
Playing in the Creek
The Boy
Visitor after a Ride
The Boy, for Tata/E time, chose again to go for a bike ride, and we began the ride in a similar fashion: the big downhill in the neighborhood across a couple of streets, the downhill that I keep encouraging him to turn into an uphill.
“I can’t ride up this hill!” he explained with exasperation. “It’s huge!”
But we rode up other hills, which are often as steep as The Hill but not as long. On one, the gave out quickly. With some encouragement, he got back on his bike and continued the climb.
“Remember: lean into the climb,” I advise as we churn our way up.
“Remember: forget about how far it is to the top. Pick a point in front of you and make it to that point. Then pick another point. And another.”
We made it to the top, and the Boy exclaimed rather stoically, “That wasn’t bad at all.”
When we got back home, we discovered some visitors have returned.
Moving Up
Morning: playing in the carport/covered porch. Bubbles and leftover candles.
Late morning: a ride with the Boy.
Afternoon: the final pack meeting. The Boy got his Lion badge and moved up to a Tiger.
