Saturday Morning

First, I have been a derelict blogger.  I figured, who wants to read my spiel?  Well, I have now realized, nobody if there's nothing to read.  So I'm back on the job.

This past Saturday I began working a six-week program to teach reading and math for two hours in the morning.

A few observations.

I had a 1st grader, a 2nd grader, a 3rd grader, and a 4th grader.  Never had that sort of mix before.  Surprisingly, my lessons worked at all their levels of development, and I think it enhanced the experience for them - kids are generally sequestered by grade, so a change piques their interest.

Also, having a mere four students - with an excellent volunteer helping me, as well - allowed for the obvious: individualized attention.  We accomplished everything I had planned despite a long snack/bathroom break in the middle of our time, and they all demonstrated mastery of the topics.  What a dream!

Lastly, my boss impressed me tremendously.  She read over my lesson plans in advance, and collected supplies and books she thought I could use (or stated that I needed).  I should be that good!  We all should!

Step back, buddy

So my summer camp students say, "We want to have a talent show."

So I say, "Sure."

And it went superbly well because I stepped back and let them run it.  Oh, yeah, I kept a finger on certain things - I vetoed their attempt to make it a competition with winners and losers, I figured out and operated the lights and audio system in the little auditorium - but mostly I just let them have their show.

When you say "sure" to kids, they have the opportunity to impress you.

One girl scheduled all the acts, went home and typed up an order of events, and then served as MC.

Another girl bought big award stickers and presented them to all participants afterward.

And the kindergarten class came to watch and laugh and cheer.

Then, at the end, someone said, "Let's have a dance party."

I said, "Sure."

And it was fabulously fun.

Stick 'em

Relearned a lesson today.  A truism of sorts, among teachers.

My first day teaching in a summer program, I stuck tightly to the rules.  Like gum under a desk.  As they say, you can always loosen up, but you can't start loose and then get strict.

A good principle.

Walk It Off, Walk It Off

Classic Dad advice to his injured son (e.g., hit by baseball): "Walk it off, walk it off."

Today my son and I ran 65 minutes - probably about 9 miles, a medium-distance run for us - and my son had complaints about halfway through.  Cramps or something.  Itchy bug bites.

He kept wanting to stop, but I made him run through it.

Does that seem cruel?  Well, he thanked me afterward, and was fine.

I guess the genius of fatherhood is knowing when to say or not say, "Walk it off."

It Turns Me Upside-Down

Those of a certain vintage will recognize a song lyric in today's title.  Uh-oh, it's magic ...

For teachers, summer means a time to recoup, reflect, and re-organize for next year.  I had my students write letters telling what they liked and did not like from this past year, and set up an online survey for parents.  I did the same after ChessFest (a chess event I organized).

Soliciting feedback results in hurt feelings.  How could someone say that my clubs were a total waste of time?  But, once we get over it, we can improve.

Maybe today, ask somebody how you're doing.  You wife, husband, kids, boss, customers ... How am I doing?  And then fix something.

Not Another Dilbert Meeting

How many Dilbert meetings have you sat through?  Or, even better, trainings?  You know, the ones that make you want to ask someone to pull on your tie until you stop breathing?

A student yesterday was freaking out because he could not take another minute of being forced to suffer through an endless meeting of sorts.  I was called upon to calm him.  And send him back to continue suffering.

But I really sympathized with him.  I hate that.  When people value you so little that they'll waste a slice of your life boring you senseless.  Or just be so lazy or clueless or whatever that they don't realize how useless and dull their endless droning is.

Tonight, on the other hand, I went to a meeting at church.  Just three of us, assembled for a specific purpose.  We accomplished what we came together for without wasting time, but without hurrying either. We joked a bit, considered several options on each question, assigned tasks, and said good night.

One way to escape Dilbert meetings is to go to the bathroom.  For a long time.  Heh-heh.

Jane Says

Heard Jane Fishman read from her book and speak on guerrilla gardening tonight.

Lessons: be abnormal, take risks, do something marginally illegal and positive for the thrill of doing good.  Also, cooking broccoli is easy (hot water, strain, salt & pepper - eat).

Kids need more Garden and less Cafeteria.  Amen, and amen.