Matching Tracksuits

fun in fours

around the house

The Show Begins Tomorrow

Sunday 19 August 2018

The first day of a new school year is like the moment the curtain rises on a play that is often improvisational and responsive to the audience's reaction. Each year, I reinvent myself as a teacher a little bit, especially during those first days when I'm setting a tone for the year. Always looking for that sweet spot between commander-in-chief and coach, I waver between the "don't smile before Christmas" type of teacher and the warm-and-welcoming-almost-a-friend type of teacher. Neither is sufficient in and of itself, and I really like the coach mentality more than the authoritarian mentality, but kids will be kids, and sometimes, I have some really emotionally damaged students who add a whole new dimension and need that forceful approach -- if only for a second, like a splash of cold water to get their attention -- so I waver between the two in the beginning.

"Here's the sanding block, L. I hid it!"

And yet it always depends on the class: some groups come in and I see immediately that Joey in the back is going to be a living terror if I don't make sure I set the right tone (which might not be the authoritarian despite the initial impression that he needs a "strong hand"); other groups come in and I see, though not immediately, that there aren't any students set on hijacking the class, and I breathe a bit easier. Still, that hint of "I can become the strictest, meanest teacher in the world if I need to" must be there, around the edges, because you never know what's going to happen in October when the honeymoon is over.

"E, you have to hold the vacuum hose right under where I'm sanding."

So the night before, I sit thinking about who exactly I'll become tomorrow. I know who I'll end up being: I have enough experience that I can get to the coach stage fairly quickly once I've established that I know how to drop the hammer, but those first few days -- I never really know.

The magic begins tomorrow, too. I'll see wave after wave of totally foreign faces and look at attendance sheets that are just a bunch of names, and by the end of the first quarter, I'll be able to predict how each student is going to react to a given assignment. By the end of the semester, I'll even know what words a given student might use.

First coat

Flood 2018

Friday 10 August 2018

Yesterday, it looked like this.

Today, it rained again and looked like this.

I haven't seen it like this since 2013.

In the Backyard

Sunday 29 July 2018

Afternoon Storm

Monday 02 July 2018

Progress

Tuesday 26 June 2018

The Boy declared, “This is a lot of fun.”

Working Monday

Monday 25 June 2018

The Boy and I spent the day working, working like I never really do during the school year. Actual work. Sweaty work. Blister-biting work. Aching working. A friend — who helped us remodel our kitchen two years, without whom we would have been completely and totally lost — is making an addition to his house. Like our house, it’s brick veneer, and he won’t be able to match the brick perfectly with what’s available now, so we’re taking down the veneer from one end of the house.

We came home sweaty and tired yet satisfied.

And what did we do afterward, after a shower and lunch and a bit of relaxing? We went back outside to play soccer for almost an hour and get sweaty again.

We took on roles — E is Ronaldo while I’m Lewandowski — and played a game that must have been some kind of record as far as scoring goes: 18-14. I scored two goals accidentally: I blocked his attempts to kick the ball by me and surge to the net and the ball rolled into his net.

We were going to head out after dinner to finish the game, but a storm rolled in, so we sat and cheered K on as she made the latest batch of pickles.

Tomorrow, we do it all again — probably even the pickles, considering the amount of cucumbers we have.

Cleaning Up

Wednesday 20 June 2018

Pressure

Wednesday 13 June 2018

You just can't do any work without the Boy wanting to get involved.

It's ridiculous the amount of gunk that was in the concrete seams.

Mama

Tuesday 12 June 2018

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.

Saturday in the Yard

Saturday 12 May 2018

The bushes in front of the house had just gotten out of hand: they shaded almost 3/4 of the height of the windows in E's and L's rooms. Every time I trimmed them, K suggested that I didn't do enough, so today was the day: the bushes were getting violently trimmed.

That was to take only a couple of hours. I'd planned on mowing the backyard, trimming the bushes, mowing the front, and finishing before four. Two things slowed me down: E and the difficulty of radically trimming the bushes.

The Boy always loves helping me mow, which usually entails slipping between me and the upper bar of the lawnmower, resulting in an awkward position for me and generally slow mowing. Today it struck me: our lawnmower has rear-wheel drive, and so theoretically, the Boy could mow all by himself, with me just walking along beside to help control it.

When we got to the flattest portions of the front yard, I let him mow without my hand on the bar to guide it.

"I'll just let you mow," I said, "and then the spots you miss, you'll have to go back and get."

He loved the idea and promptly went zig-zagging across the yard. He tended to pull to the left, so he made strange arching patterns instead of the regular straight lines I obsessively put into our yard.

The period of time between the first bit of mowing and the second bit (the "flattest portions of the front yard" mentioned above) was approximately six hours, evidenced by the changing shadows in the pictures above.

In the intervening hours, we worked on the bushes. I trimmed; he loaded the cuttings into the wheelbarrow.

When we started, the foliage was so dense that it blocked most of the light and all of the sky.

When we finished, nothing was really blocked. I worried as I cut back the branches that it might be too late for such work, that I might damage the bushes by doing this. In the end, I thought that that might, in fact, be a blessing.

In between the first and the second bushes -- lunch and a concert.

K and L spent most of the day inside, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Cleaning clothes, floors, bathrooms, and anything else that would sit still long enough. In the end, though, K had to come out: her garden beckoned.

"When will we ever have a relaxed Saturday?" K asked as we sat on the front steps watching the kids, who still had energy, play in the front yard.

"A relaxed Saturday? What's that?"