matching tracksuits

fun in threes, sometimes fours

Today in School

We had the PSAT today, so many students were out during class. No matter — it’s recorded and posted on Google Classroom.

We began the day with a short open-note quiz on the two poems we just finished and on poetry in general. We followed that with a short viewing (about a minute) of the Stanford Viennese Ball’s opening waltz:

This was in order to provide students with some perspective about what a waltz looks like when we read “My Papa’s Waltz.”

Our reading of “My Papa’s Waltz” was a cautionary tale. At first it seems like so many words have connotations of abuse that the poem is actually about an abusive father.

  • The “whiskey on your breath” line makes us think he’s inebriated.
  • “Death” has obvious bad connotations.
  • “Battered” and “beat” are abusive words.

The problem, though, is this is not a close-enough reading.

  • Notice: his knuckle is what’s battered. Along with the “palm caked hard with dirt,” this suggests he’s a man used to hard manual labor.
  • He’s beating time and nothing else — he’s tapping the boy’s head 1-2-3 to help him keep up with the waltz.
  • The text shows he’s had something to drink; it doesn’t say he’s inebriated. (“Remember what that waltz looked like?” I reminded the students. “Do you think he could do that if he’d been inebriated?”)
  • Note who puts him to bed: the father.

So this was a cautionary tale about reading too much into the connotations of a poem. Don’t overdo it. If there’s no evidence in the text, it’s likely not a valid interpretation.

Finishing the Toolbox

Yesterday was the cut day; today we assembled everything. I struggled to figure out how much to do and how much to let him do, to decide how many mistakes to correct and how many to let slide.

“Oh, Daddy, that nail is actually coming out of the bottom.” That’s one to correct.

“Daddy, I didn’t evenly space these nails.” Just pat him on the head and say, “It’s not a big deal, buddy.”

In the end, it wasn’t perfect, but he’d done almost all of it — a good reason to do your best Dr. Seuss character imitation. (“Daddy, why do so many of the characters go around with their eyes closed?” he once asked. I’d never really noticed that.)

Close Call

The Girl's volleyball team finished the regular season with a perfect record. Beyond perfect -- not only did they win every match but the won them all in straight sets. Which is to say they lost not a single set. And most sets they won convincingly. Brutally.

Today was the semifinals of the year-end tournament.

Before the game, there was a special short recognition of the eighth-grade girls who would be leaving. "As you can see," said the coach, "they're the majority of the team." Next year will likely not see as many in the win column as this year. But it's still this year.

The girls made it straight to the semifinals due to their record, and they faced St. Mary's today. They won convincingly earlier this year in the regular season. And the first set today they won easily: 25-9. That's not just an easy win. That's a brutal beat-down. But the St. Mary's girls never let it get to them. They were enthusiastic and hard-working the entire set as the lead mounted and become the monster that it was.

In the second set, the Langston girls started getting sloppy, making some silly errors. Before we knew it, they were down by four, almost all the points coming from their own unforced errors. Still, I don't want to take anything away from the St. Mary's team: they were playing much better in the second set. Our girls cut the lead to one and then started slipping again. Cut the lead and then started slipping again. And then the unthinkable: set point.

Yet the girls rallied and kept their perfect record just that.

It would have been a great surprise for the St. Mary's girls to bump the big dogs off their perch (I just intentionally mixed those metaphors so thoroughly that you could serve them to James Bond).

"Did you hear? The Langston girls finally got taken down!"

"Really? By whom?"

But it was not meant to be, I suppose.

One more game -- the championship on Friday afternoon against Shannon Forest again. They almost took a set from the girls a couple of weeks ago, and in the 2019/2020 season, they took a set from the Langston girls each of the two matches they played. Including the championship.

In the evening, after dinner, the Boy and I worked on his scout project. We measured and cut all the boards, ready for assembly tomorrow.

Around the House this Evening

The End of What?

Press Release - Radio Interview with David C. Pack

Just a little over a week ago, religious huckster and conman David Pack said that Jesus would be coming back by the end of his group's little religious retreat known as the Feast of Tabernacles. He was absolutely sure it would happen during that convention, and in a sermon leaked onto the internet that he gave during the first day, he said he would be shocked if they made it halfway through the conference before Jesus returned. As Wednesday rolled into Thursday, marking the halfway mark, I wondered what he was saying to his flock. "Just wait -- I know it's coming!" Who knows.

Well, the whole conference is over. Everyone was heading back to their homes today despite Pack's assurance during his first-day sermon that they wouldn't be going back home. Are they finally beginning to doubt the man? Are they going to leave his group?

The fallout will be interesting to watch, but it certainly is not without tragedy. Members of this group have given everything to this man. They've signed over their homes to them. They've taken out loans to send him the money. As with the Branch Davidians or the People's Temple, they've surrendered their whole lives to this man in the belief that he is God's appointed one on Earth, an apostle on the same level as the New Testament apostles. I don't think they will end with a firey confrontation with government officials or in a mass suicide, but that doesn't make the tragedy insignificant: anyone who leaves this church would have to start all over. I'm not even sure they could stay in their houses if they signed them over to the church.

Misunderstanding

When creationists try to present the “lie of evolution” in an attempt to debunk it, we can often see clearly that the creationists don’t even understand evolutionary theory.

“Who’s going to make who look like an idiot?” Given the fact that you just clearly showed that you don’t have a clue how evolution works, you’ve already made an idiot of yourself.

They’re positively quixotic.

Already

Went to Lowe’s this morning for a new wax ring for a toilet. Walked in and saw this. This is two and a half months before Christmas. We have not only Thanksgiving to go but Halloween as well…

Lena in the rain# love it

The Boy wrote this post, playing with hashtags — he doesn’t quite understand them yet.

Scouts

Coming home from scouts tonight, the Boy and I had a conversation about friendship. He talked to me a bit about what happened to Malfoy in the third book of the Harry Potter series, which K is currently reading to him. Apparently he got mauled by some creature.

"Oh, that's not good," I said.

Practicing his two half-hitches

"But Malfoy is bad!" E clarified.

"Yes, but that's no reason to wish ill of him. Besides, he might not turn out that bad by the end of it all." I knew this from conversations I'd had with L about the series, but I didn't want to give anything away to the boy.

"Yeah, L told me that he and Harry become friends in the end."

Learning how to use a handsaw

So much for not giving it away.

"That's sort of like T and me," the Boy continued. "We didn't use to like each other. Well, we really didn't know each other, but then we got to know each other and decided to become friends."

I thought about that for a moment, pondering the choice of words: "decided" to become friends. I imagined this conversation between the two boys, a negotiation of sorts.

It's hard to imagine, isn't it?

T might not even be aware that in E's eyes, they "decided" to become friends. For all I know, T might not even consider E his friend but merely an acquaintance.

Sawing

Kids and adults see friendship differently, I think. I feel I'm more jaded than I can imagine him ever being. That's the magic of childhood, I guess.

Streaming

It’s taken a while to get everything lined up, to get everything prepared, to get all the kids set and expecting it, but today, I finally pulled it off.

I live-streamed my classes so that students at home could simply follow along. I used a bone-conduction blue tooth headset to hear questions from the online kids and to make sure they heard me clearly, and I presented the screen through Google Meet so they could simply follow along with the text as we annotated it. (And one of the administrators, knowing I was doing this, dropped by to take some pictures, which made it to social media.)

In the past, we’ve had material prepared for kids at home and material prepared for kids in school. I’ve been teaching doubled lessons: I teach the same thing on Monday to the students who attend Monday and Wednesday then I repeat it all Tuesday for the other group. But no more.

The parental response has been completely positive and overwhelmingly uniform:

  • This was great…my son really liked this
  • THIS IS AWESOME!! Would love to see y’all make this happen!!!
  • This was excellent! The most positive school response I’ve seen from my daughter since Covid began.
  • I have wondered from the beginning why this wasn’t done for every class.
  • Rave reviews from my 8th grader!
  • This was a huge help. Thank you, Mr. Scott! Would love to see this happen for additional classes.

So two things now come to mind:

  1. I must plan all my lessons so that they can fit into such a template. (Or almost all my lessons. I don’t know about Socratic seminars and other forms of discussion, but perhaps it’s do-able with a little ingenuity.)
  2. I must talk several teachers off the ledge when word starts getting around that this is going to be required (it won’t) and that it’s terribly complicated (it isn’t) and that it will require much more planning time (much less, actually).

Finally, it’s proved one thing to me as well: snow days are now completely obsolete.