Graduation was this morning. Most of my students showed up to walk, and it was fun seeing them and wishing them the best. I enjoyed dressing up in my spiffy robes and snazzy hat. The graduation speaker was excellent, with lots of good things to say about the responsibility our nation has to provide a good education especially for the millions of children who live in poverty. Quite inspiring.
I got to stand at the end of the stage and give all of my students hugs as they walked off the stage, having received -- well, not their diplomas, but a neat portfolio for the one they will eventually receive in the mail. I hooded my first doctoral student, which was an outstanding feeling (congrats, Karen!).
And I did all of this without crying. Miracles. Never. Cease.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Exciting Stuff!
Yesterday was my last day of involvement in a year-long professional development project in a large city in my state (now called "Center City"). We've been teaching secondary teachers, speech therapists, principals, librarians, etc. about using comprehension strategies, developing text sets, writing, working with vocabulary as part of their work with students. It's been the most satisfying professional development work I've ever been involved in, particularly because of the ways in which groups of teachers at various schools are implementing the knowledge they've gained. Heard lots of stories yesterday about new projects started, new classes for students in which they are reading young adult novels related to various topics in content area classes. Lots of excitement brewing, and very high ratings on the professional development program itself.
I got to sit down with an art teacher and a music teacher who are taking seriously the involvement of literacy in their courses, and that was thrilling for me.
The drive there and back was beautiful -- I checked out a book on CD from the library and enjoyed listening to about half of it.
I got to sit down with an art teacher and a music teacher who are taking seriously the involvement of literacy in their courses, and that was thrilling for me.
The drive there and back was beautiful -- I checked out a book on CD from the library and enjoyed listening to about half of it.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Good News!
As of yesterday, I am finished visiting student teachers! Calloo, callay, it's a beautiful day!
No, really, can you tell I'm relieved?
It was actually quite a decent semester for student teachers, except that I supervised nineteeen this time, spread out over 4 districts and 9 buildings. That meant that I didn't get to spend as much time with all of them as I wanted to, but I still feel that I did the best I could under the circumstances. (I know, what am I doing under there, anyway?)
Only a couple of problems, and those were handled with a relatively small amount of angst.
Now I must get to work on the umpteen billion writing projects that have to be finished this summer.
No, really, can you tell I'm relieved?
It was actually quite a decent semester for student teachers, except that I supervised nineteeen this time, spread out over 4 districts and 9 buildings. That meant that I didn't get to spend as much time with all of them as I wanted to, but I still feel that I did the best I could under the circumstances. (I know, what am I doing under there, anyway?)
Only a couple of problems, and those were handled with a relatively small amount of angst.
Now I must get to work on the umpteen billion writing projects that have to be finished this summer.
Monday, April 24, 2006
One More Thing
Another change to my junior-level English methods class: Since I'll be operating Thursdays as writing workshops, each student in class will collaborate with me on teaching the mini-lesson for one workshop day during the semester. The collaboration is so that the workshop focuses on an aspect of their writing that is in need of work, and so that I can make sure the instructional experience they get is valuable. Perhaps after the workshop, I should require them to meet with me to debrief the experience of teaching the mini-lesson? I'll need to be sure to have a clear, highly structured and well-articulated sense of what the mini-lesson should involve.
I think this plan has more possibilities for quality instructional time and for learning about teaching than the "opening circle" work that I did last year.
I also would like to work in to this class some experiences with reading and commenting on student papers. This will mean, probably, using the local writing project website (for which I am the technology liaison) for teachers in the state to post their students' writing, and for my students to have an opportunity to read and respond to those. It's a bit tough to figure out, because I'm not sure how to organize it so that both the preservice teachers and the students of the inservice teachers get the most out of it, especially in terms of timing.
I'll work on that aspect some more this summer.
I think this plan has more possibilities for quality instructional time and for learning about teaching than the "opening circle" work that I did last year.
I also would like to work in to this class some experiences with reading and commenting on student papers. This will mean, probably, using the local writing project website (for which I am the technology liaison) for teachers in the state to post their students' writing, and for my students to have an opportunity to read and respond to those. It's a bit tough to figure out, because I'm not sure how to organize it so that both the preservice teachers and the students of the inservice teachers get the most out of it, especially in terms of timing.
I'll work on that aspect some more this summer.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
FYI
Just an FYI. If you write a grant proposal that has this in it:
"This data base can help departments of education start to think about how current and future high school teachers are taught how to teach writing."
and this:
"This statistic would allow us to look closely at the kind of education our teachers are receiving and to look at how they are applying their education in the classroom."
you'd better have talked to me about it first. Especially when you're talking about English teachers.
"Start to think"!! What the hell?
"This data base can help departments of education start to think about how current and future high school teachers are taught how to teach writing."
and this:
"This statistic would allow us to look closely at the kind of education our teachers are receiving and to look at how they are applying their education in the classroom."
you'd better have talked to me about it first. Especially when you're talking about English teachers.
"Start to think"!! What the hell?
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Blizzarding
I decided this mornign that I would walk to work. Decided that BEFORE I looked out the window and saw the snow falling. That's right, you heard me, snow falling on April 18th.
But it's ok, I'm a bad ass, I can take walking to work in the snow. I pulled on my warm blue jacket, wool hat (made by my mom!), fleece gloves. I turned on my mp3 player (no, it's not an Ipod, damn it) and cruised along for a few blocks.
That's when the real fun began. The wind picked up, to the point where I could hear it whistling even over the 70's-rock sound of Lenny Kravitz. The snow was pelting my face, sticking to my jeans, crusting my gloves and hat. The side of my face started stiffening up, and I could barely begin to see the snow sticking to my eyelashes.
I started looking around for a building I could enter, but aside from just knocking on doors, there was nothing around. So I trudged on, passing other freaks of nature out for a walk in this terrible weather, until I finally made it to an office building where I had to run an errand anyway.
Whew.
Now, of course, the sun is out, the snow has melted, and spring is back. Such is life. I'm sure when I head for home this afternoon, another blizzard will hit. Just seems like that kind of day.
But it's ok, I'm a bad ass, I can take walking to work in the snow. I pulled on my warm blue jacket, wool hat (made by my mom!), fleece gloves. I turned on my mp3 player (no, it's not an Ipod, damn it) and cruised along for a few blocks.
That's when the real fun began. The wind picked up, to the point where I could hear it whistling even over the 70's-rock sound of Lenny Kravitz. The snow was pelting my face, sticking to my jeans, crusting my gloves and hat. The side of my face started stiffening up, and I could barely begin to see the snow sticking to my eyelashes.
I started looking around for a building I could enter, but aside from just knocking on doors, there was nothing around. So I trudged on, passing other freaks of nature out for a walk in this terrible weather, until I finally made it to an office building where I had to run an errand anyway.
Whew.
Now, of course, the sun is out, the snow has melted, and spring is back. Such is life. I'm sure when I head for home this afternoon, another blizzard will hit. Just seems like that kind of day.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
I recently sat in a meeting with some school administrators who told me about the state's investment (via an allocation of funding from the legislature) in "instructional facilitators" for school districts. These are teachers whose job will be to work with other teachers on improving instruction. My sense is that these IFs will be working particularly with math and literacy skills across the curriculum, especially at the secondary level. Many school districts in the state are now frantically getting their paperwork in line so that they can hire several IFs per school. For example in the district I mentioned above, they will be hiring 36 new IFs, mostly classroom teachers who will come out of their classrooms to work with other teachers.
This trend has been common in elementary classrooms, particularly in terms of teachers called "literacy coaches" -- this has a special meaning for schools involved in the Reading First work.
But in secondary schools, it's a fairly new idea.
Of course, as soon as I heard about this, my research mode kicked in. A colleague and I have something planned, something I am very excited about, to take a look in a mixed method format at what happens in secondary schools when IFs are provided to help teachers. Still in the planning stages, but I'm excited about it.
The whole IF thing also raises some questions in my mind:
* What kind of teachers will volunteer to step out of their classrooms and work with other teachers? Will they be (and this is my hope) the ones who are master teachers, who are keenly interested in improving instruction and who can work well with other teachers? Or will they be the ones who are sick and tired of being in the classroom and see IF work as an easier, less stressful option?
* Will these IFs be able to work with teachers? I mean, in my experience, there are some teachers who are seriously interested in changing/improving their craft (the easy and lovely ones to work with) and then there are those who would not change if a fire was lit under their ass. How successful will these IFs be with the latter? What will stand in their way? What will facilitate their work?
* Ultimately, we will want to see improvement in student achievement. Will this happen?
* What does this do to the principal's responsibility as an Instructional Leader?
In the meantime, while this work is in the planning stages, the chapters are beginning to roll in for the two editing jobs I've agreed to. Exciting stuff.
And my class in Casper is over for the semester (except for the grading) and I'm suddenly freed up a bit to get some writing done. Hooray!
This trend has been common in elementary classrooms, particularly in terms of teachers called "literacy coaches" -- this has a special meaning for schools involved in the Reading First work.
But in secondary schools, it's a fairly new idea.
Of course, as soon as I heard about this, my research mode kicked in. A colleague and I have something planned, something I am very excited about, to take a look in a mixed method format at what happens in secondary schools when IFs are provided to help teachers. Still in the planning stages, but I'm excited about it.
The whole IF thing also raises some questions in my mind:
* What kind of teachers will volunteer to step out of their classrooms and work with other teachers? Will they be (and this is my hope) the ones who are master teachers, who are keenly interested in improving instruction and who can work well with other teachers? Or will they be the ones who are sick and tired of being in the classroom and see IF work as an easier, less stressful option?
* Will these IFs be able to work with teachers? I mean, in my experience, there are some teachers who are seriously interested in changing/improving their craft (the easy and lovely ones to work with) and then there are those who would not change if a fire was lit under their ass. How successful will these IFs be with the latter? What will stand in their way? What will facilitate their work?
* Ultimately, we will want to see improvement in student achievement. Will this happen?
* What does this do to the principal's responsibility as an Instructional Leader?
In the meantime, while this work is in the planning stages, the chapters are beginning to roll in for the two editing jobs I've agreed to. Exciting stuff.
And my class in Casper is over for the semester (except for the grading) and I'm suddenly freed up a bit to get some writing done. Hooray!
Friday, April 07, 2006
Beer Poet(ry)
Here's a poem written by a long-distance hiker, Beer Poet, who is now hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. (He's also famous for his poem, "The Rainy Day (AT Poem)"
My Compass (8/13)
15 miles from Oregon
I realized
that I had lost a close friend. . .
(my compass)
This is a horribly tragic moment.
That compass had become my mirror,
my reflection of the real world. . .
When it looked back at me
I found movement and direction.
"Oh what grief!"
If only it could talk. . .
It would yell out,
“Help! . . .
Take me to my friend!”
and it would tell grandiose stories of adventure
and madness.
(It could tell one hell of a tale.)
but it lies quiet somewhere . . .
(without me)
Sadly sleeping,
without the movement . . .
without serving me well.
And the hush of the wind
sings a lulling sad lament
as the morning begins
the stars fade, and the sky turns
from black to early grey. . .
and I sip on a cup of tea
(Earl Grey)
with a distant bugle playing taps in my head
. . . and I miss my compass.
The Beer Poet
My Compass (8/13)
15 miles from Oregon
I realized
that I had lost a close friend. . .
(my compass)
This is a horribly tragic moment.
That compass had become my mirror,
my reflection of the real world. . .
When it looked back at me
I found movement and direction.
"Oh what grief!"
If only it could talk. . .
It would yell out,
“Help! . . .
Take me to my friend!”
and it would tell grandiose stories of adventure
and madness.
(It could tell one hell of a tale.)
but it lies quiet somewhere . . .
(without me)
Sadly sleeping,
without the movement . . .
without serving me well.
And the hush of the wind
sings a lulling sad lament
as the morning begins
the stars fade, and the sky turns
from black to early grey. . .
and I sip on a cup of tea
(Earl Grey)
with a distant bugle playing taps in my head
. . . and I miss my compass.
The Beer Poet
Monday, April 03, 2006
Change is a Good Thing
Lately I've been pondering changes to my junior-level English methods class, which focuses on teaching writing. This has begun with completely abandoning the textbooks for the class and adopting new ones. I've decided on these:
Teaching Writing: Craft, Art, Genre by Fran Claggett
Grammar Alive! A Guide for Teachers by Brock Haussamen
Risking Intensity: Reading and Writing Poetry with High School Students by Judith Rowe Michaels
I'll also need to have students read some chapters on the writing process, on conferencing with students, on setting up a writing workshop -- I've got most of those in hand.
I'm thinking of setting it up in a similar fashion to last year, with Tuesdays being regular class days and Thursdays being workshop days. As to the workshop, we will be spending time developing our own portfolio of writing, including at least one narrative piece and some poetry.
Other assignments I'm thinking about include using Hillocks' ideas about structuring writing and a sense of writing workshop format to have students -- individually -- create a plan for teaching a particular type of writing. This will include a "gateway activity" and then a series of structured lessons, in workshop format, to assist students with writing that particular genre.
That's about as far as I've gotten so far, although I have other ideas milling about in my brain.
Teaching Writing: Craft, Art, Genre by Fran Claggett
Grammar Alive! A Guide for Teachers by Brock Haussamen
Risking Intensity: Reading and Writing Poetry with High School Students by Judith Rowe Michaels
I'll also need to have students read some chapters on the writing process, on conferencing with students, on setting up a writing workshop -- I've got most of those in hand.
I'm thinking of setting it up in a similar fashion to last year, with Tuesdays being regular class days and Thursdays being workshop days. As to the workshop, we will be spending time developing our own portfolio of writing, including at least one narrative piece and some poetry.
Other assignments I'm thinking about include using Hillocks' ideas about structuring writing and a sense of writing workshop format to have students -- individually -- create a plan for teaching a particular type of writing. This will include a "gateway activity" and then a series of structured lessons, in workshop format, to assist students with writing that particular genre.
That's about as far as I've gotten so far, although I have other ideas milling about in my brain.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Monday, March 06, 2006
Spring Break is Coming! Spring Break is Coming!
Here's what I'll be doing over spring break . . .
Friday night, our search committee took our final candidate out to dinner. The folks at the table started counting the number of times I said "Belize." I think the count was about 10 in an hour and a half.
I'm expecting to come back tanned, fatter, and happier. I'm certainly not taking any work with me. Sigh. Can't wait.
Friday night, our search committee took our final candidate out to dinner. The folks at the table started counting the number of times I said "Belize." I think the count was about 10 in an hour and a half.
I'm expecting to come back tanned, fatter, and happier. I'm certainly not taking any work with me. Sigh. Can't wait.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Green is the Color
My wonderful spouse packed his backpacking gear in his Vapor Trail last night, in preparation for his trip to the Rockies Ruck this weekend.
When I saw him in that backpack, I slowly turned green.
Because of some work commitments, I can't go to the Ruck this year, and that does not make me happy. However, when I think about it, I just repeat my mantra: "Spring break is coming. Spring break is coming. Spring break is coming."
It's odd that I've been having spring breaks as long as I can remember. Since I was 5 years old, I've been in school, either teaching or being taught, and spring break is a staple of the school experience. So much so, that when I first met Footslogger, who is not an educator, I cracked him up by asking "So what are you doing for spring break?"
I guess not everyone gets spring break. So sad for you guys!
I'm still waiting with bated breath to find out if any of my poetry gets published... will let you know when I find out.
When I saw him in that backpack, I slowly turned green.
Because of some work commitments, I can't go to the Ruck this year, and that does not make me happy. However, when I think about it, I just repeat my mantra: "Spring break is coming. Spring break is coming. Spring break is coming."
It's odd that I've been having spring breaks as long as I can remember. Since I was 5 years old, I've been in school, either teaching or being taught, and spring break is a staple of the school experience. So much so, that when I first met Footslogger, who is not an educator, I cracked him up by asking "So what are you doing for spring break?"
I guess not everyone gets spring break. So sad for you guys!
I'm still waiting with bated breath to find out if any of my poetry gets published... will let you know when I find out.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Sick to my Stomach
When my younger brother was very small, he used to say "I've got a headache in my tummy."
That's what's going on with me now, except that the headache is in my tummy, my head, my bones, etc.
Got up at 5:15 this morning to take someone to the airport. Have eaten out almost every night this week, with candidates coming in. Stressing over the timing of the search and whether or not it will be successful and how to make everyone happy (I know, I can't) and how to get all my work done while still chairing the search committee.
Impossible, I know.
On the bright side, we have two (and hopefully, with the funding gods on our side, three) extremely qualified candidates coming in. Bright hopes all around. But it sure is a lot of work getting them here and getting them through their meetings, job talks, etc.
Longing for spring break . . . .
That's what's going on with me now, except that the headache is in my tummy, my head, my bones, etc.
Got up at 5:15 this morning to take someone to the airport. Have eaten out almost every night this week, with candidates coming in. Stressing over the timing of the search and whether or not it will be successful and how to make everyone happy (I know, I can't) and how to get all my work done while still chairing the search committee.
Impossible, I know.
On the bright side, we have two (and hopefully, with the funding gods on our side, three) extremely qualified candidates coming in. Bright hopes all around. But it sure is a lot of work getting them here and getting them through their meetings, job talks, etc.
Longing for spring break . . . .
Friday, February 10, 2006
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Melted Honey
I found this rough draft of a poem in last year's composition book.
Made of stone
Sheathed in silk
Atop stiletto heels.
Not a sign of feeling escapes
Nor a breath of joy or despair.
A picture of perfect elegance
Made hard by those feelings now bricked up:
Life's unfailing plagues
Of sorrow and triumph and pain and elation.
Some force within me longs
To ruffle the feathers,
To mar the silken surface.
To tap the hardened stone
And see the honey flow forth.
Made of stone
Sheathed in silk
Atop stiletto heels.
Not a sign of feeling escapes
Nor a breath of joy or despair.
A picture of perfect elegance
Made hard by those feelings now bricked up:
Life's unfailing plagues
Of sorrow and triumph and pain and elation.
Some force within me longs
To ruffle the feathers,
To mar the silken surface.
To tap the hardened stone
And see the honey flow forth.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Face Plant
Lest you think that I have some new kind of ivy or rhododendron growing from my visage, here's the gruesome story.
On Sunday last, I went with my caretaking spouse, a doctor from the clinic where said spouse works, and the wonderful young woman the doctor is currently dating for a day of skiing at Snowy Range Ski Area just outside of beautiful Laramie, Wyoming.
The powder was deep, it snowed all day long, the company was fantastic, the roads weren't too bad. We had a fantastic time. Except for me, on my first run down Ogalalla.
I'm not the greatest skiier, let me assure you up front. I'm decent, but I'm usually cautious. On Sunday, however, I had some kind of wildness boiling in my blood that prompted me to say, "Sure! Let's do Ogalalla first!" Ogalalla isn't bad, but it's steeper than I usually do on my first run of the day. Let's just say that I need that slow first run of the day in order to work out the kinks, remind my body of what it takes to keep control while sliding down a hill on wooden planks, etc.
Fiberglass, whatever.
I didn't quite get that slow first run. Instead, I went screaming down Ogalalla and ended up with my face planted firmly in a snow bank about half way down. That's after spending a few minutes careening down the hill, way out of control, a few seconds flailing wildly, and a few miliseconds spreading my gear across the mountainside in a yard sale, just missing a snowboarder by inches.
When I pulled my face out of the snow, I noticed the blood.
Noses bleed a lot when they've been slammed into the side of a mountain. Luckily, my compatriots came along (they were behind me -- was I trying to show off? Perhaps, but that is the story of another post) with advice and Kleenex. Lie back, shove this kleenex up your nose, don't worry about the blood streaming down the side of your face and onto your new skiing outfit....
I don't want you think that it ruined my day. It didn't. Just slowed me down. A lot.
On Sunday last, I went with my caretaking spouse, a doctor from the clinic where said spouse works, and the wonderful young woman the doctor is currently dating for a day of skiing at Snowy Range Ski Area just outside of beautiful Laramie, Wyoming.
The powder was deep, it snowed all day long, the company was fantastic, the roads weren't too bad. We had a fantastic time. Except for me, on my first run down Ogalalla.
I'm not the greatest skiier, let me assure you up front. I'm decent, but I'm usually cautious. On Sunday, however, I had some kind of wildness boiling in my blood that prompted me to say, "Sure! Let's do Ogalalla first!" Ogalalla isn't bad, but it's steeper than I usually do on my first run of the day. Let's just say that I need that slow first run of the day in order to work out the kinks, remind my body of what it takes to keep control while sliding down a hill on wooden planks, etc.
Fiberglass, whatever.
I didn't quite get that slow first run. Instead, I went screaming down Ogalalla and ended up with my face planted firmly in a snow bank about half way down. That's after spending a few minutes careening down the hill, way out of control, a few seconds flailing wildly, and a few miliseconds spreading my gear across the mountainside in a yard sale, just missing a snowboarder by inches.
When I pulled my face out of the snow, I noticed the blood.
Noses bleed a lot when they've been slammed into the side of a mountain. Luckily, my compatriots came along (they were behind me -- was I trying to show off? Perhaps, but that is the story of another post) with advice and Kleenex. Lie back, shove this kleenex up your nose, don't worry about the blood streaming down the side of your face and onto your new skiing outfit....
I don't want you think that it ruined my day. It didn't. Just slowed me down. A lot.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Cowgirls Beat CSU
Went to the Cowgirls basketball game last night with my spouse. Was it ever an exciting game. Here's the freakiest thing about it -- in the second half, with 15 seconds left in the game, UW was down by 5. 15 seconds. Down by 5.
Then Jodi made a three-pointer, Erin stole an inbound pass for a bucket, and voila! UW is tied with CSU, with 7 seconds left.
In overtime, we went on to beat CSU, 87-80 or something like that.
When we got home, I had a sore throat from screaming so much.
Then Jodi made a three-pointer, Erin stole an inbound pass for a bucket, and voila! UW is tied with CSU, with 7 seconds left.
In overtime, we went on to beat CSU, 87-80 or something like that.
When we got home, I had a sore throat from screaming so much.
Not Really an Excuse
I know it has been much too long since my last post. No excuses. I should be posting more.
But . . .
(you knew that was coming, right?)
Here's the thing. I am not exactly anonymous here, and sometimes I get to wondering how I can really write anything somewhat approximating my experiences without pissing off my bosses, embarassing my students, implicating my spouse, or just plain making myself look foolish.
When those feelings overwhelm (and really, when the only things I have to talk about are things that would .... see above) I tend to go into hibernation. Work hard. And not blog.
But I had a bit of a breakthrough today, so I thought I would blog about it.
I'm teaching an intensive weekend course starting tomorrow, and planning for the Friday evening and all day Saturday has taken up a GOOD CHUNK of my time lately. Even with all of the work I've put into planning for the class, I started thinking this afternoon that I'm going to end up teaching until noon on Saturday and then run out of things to do.
That's a bad feeling.
So I sat down today, got out my composition book, and did some writing/thinking about what would I want to know about research in writing instruction at the secondary level, if I were a student in my class? Boom. Massive amount of content that I can deliver, that my students can debate and discuss and use for their projects, and that I actually have material on in my office. Cool, huh?
Topics to be enlarged upon before tomorrow afternoon at 1:00:
*** Research on response to student writing
*** Research on grammar and the teaching of writing
*** Research on the process approach to writing instruction
Now I must buckle down.
Thanks for stopping by.
But . . .
(you knew that was coming, right?)
Here's the thing. I am not exactly anonymous here, and sometimes I get to wondering how I can really write anything somewhat approximating my experiences without pissing off my bosses, embarassing my students, implicating my spouse, or just plain making myself look foolish.
When those feelings overwhelm (and really, when the only things I have to talk about are things that would .... see above) I tend to go into hibernation. Work hard. And not blog.
But I had a bit of a breakthrough today, so I thought I would blog about it.
I'm teaching an intensive weekend course starting tomorrow, and planning for the Friday evening and all day Saturday has taken up a GOOD CHUNK of my time lately. Even with all of the work I've put into planning for the class, I started thinking this afternoon that I'm going to end up teaching until noon on Saturday and then run out of things to do.
That's a bad feeling.
So I sat down today, got out my composition book, and did some writing/thinking about what would I want to know about research in writing instruction at the secondary level, if I were a student in my class? Boom. Massive amount of content that I can deliver, that my students can debate and discuss and use for their projects, and that I actually have material on in my office. Cool, huh?
Topics to be enlarged upon before tomorrow afternoon at 1:00:
*** Research on response to student writing
*** Research on grammar and the teaching of writing
*** Research on the process approach to writing instruction
Now I must buckle down.
Thanks for stopping by.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Triple the Fun
We returned home from our Christmas extravaganza at the home of my brother, his lovely wife, and their oh-so-precocious triplet boys (2.5 years of age), graced by the presence of Mom, Sam, assorted in-laws on either side, lots of booze, neighbors, parties, gifts, etc. What a fun and yet exhausting time!
My mom has written a lively, yet short recap of the experience. I'm still waiting on her permission to post it, but while I wait, I'll just let you know that I returned from Texas with a lovely cold and earache (thanks, boys!) that is just now beginning to simmer down.
Meanwhile, I'm working away on lots of projects, getting ready for next week when classes start, student teaching supervision begins, and I'll be making a trip to the center of the state to do some professional development in Casper.
It's lovely to be able to do all of this from home . . .
OK -- here's Mom's recap of
Christmas with the Triplets
by
Barbara M. Tobias
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and Matthew was running full tilt: through the den, around the corner into the living room, on into the dining room, back down the hall through the kitchen to make the full circle. Alexander was right behind him with William gaining fast. All three giggling and squealing with sheer delight. You don’t know how loud the pitter-patter of little feet can be until there are six little feet running, all fueled by the M&Ms they managed to get their hands on and the excitement of Christmas Eve.
They are not quite sure yet just what this Santa guy is up to, but everyone else is excited, so they’re in high gear too. Not enough to give serious consideration to being “good” but enough to lift the decibel level.
After they are finally asleep—at least we think they are sleeping—the six adults creep up the stairs to put Santa’s loot together. There is a bicycle. A real two-wheeler with training wheels. And there is a tricycle posing as a motorcycle complete with all the vroom-vroom sounds when you push a button. But the star of the show is a Hummer. Mustard yellow, squat and awesome. It runs on a rechargeable battery, moves when you press the “gas” pedal, turns when you turn the steering wheel, and even goes into reverse.
We were a motley team: two salespeople, one medical tech, one college professor, one computer programmer, and (thank Heaven) one mechanical engineer. But in spite of the somewhat limited qualifications, we managed to get most of the toys assembled. Getting the Hummer down the stairs was a challenge, but we were up to it.
And then we opened the box containing the table that was supposed to play host to a train track, trestle, bridges, and even the train. It contained no less than two dozen pieces, a bag of assorted screws, nuts and bolts, and not one single word of instruction. A three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle. The professor and the programmer looked at it, looked at each other, and called the engineer. There was a bit of trial and error. We discovered that you cannot put the drawer stops in place before the drawer is in its slots. We also discovered that right and left have meaning even when they are not marked.
There was much laughing and head scratching and video taking. I suspect the latter may lead to a bit of blackmail somewhere down the line, but not at Christmas, surely. We even managed to get the monster down the staircase and in place under the tree before exhaustion set in and we all fell into bed.
The first thing I saw when I stumbled into the room with the toys after the boys woke on Christmas morning was Will. He had a railroad car in each hand and was moving them carefully over the tracks. He continued to do so for the next two hours, ignoring all efforts to get him to open presents, play with bicycles or radio-controlled cars. He even ignored the mighty Hummer.
Matthew opened his own presents and was more than glad to help anyone else open theirs if they were not moving fast enough to suit him. Alex climbed on the tricycle and immediately mastered pushing buttons to make noises, although his real aim was to regain possession of the M&Ms that had been confiscated the evening before.
But the thing I will always remember about this Christmas is hearing the mother’s voice as I sat nursing a cup of coffee in the dining room: “No, Matthew, the Hummer will not fit into the kitchen.”
Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.
My mom has written a lively, yet short recap of the experience. I'm still waiting on her permission to post it, but while I wait, I'll just let you know that I returned from Texas with a lovely cold and earache (thanks, boys!) that is just now beginning to simmer down.
Meanwhile, I'm working away on lots of projects, getting ready for next week when classes start, student teaching supervision begins, and I'll be making a trip to the center of the state to do some professional development in Casper.
It's lovely to be able to do all of this from home . . .
OK -- here's Mom's recap of
Christmas with the Triplets
by
Barbara M. Tobias
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and Matthew was running full tilt: through the den, around the corner into the living room, on into the dining room, back down the hall through the kitchen to make the full circle. Alexander was right behind him with William gaining fast. All three giggling and squealing with sheer delight. You don’t know how loud the pitter-patter of little feet can be until there are six little feet running, all fueled by the M&Ms they managed to get their hands on and the excitement of Christmas Eve.
They are not quite sure yet just what this Santa guy is up to, but everyone else is excited, so they’re in high gear too. Not enough to give serious consideration to being “good” but enough to lift the decibel level.
After they are finally asleep—at least we think they are sleeping—the six adults creep up the stairs to put Santa’s loot together. There is a bicycle. A real two-wheeler with training wheels. And there is a tricycle posing as a motorcycle complete with all the vroom-vroom sounds when you push a button. But the star of the show is a Hummer. Mustard yellow, squat and awesome. It runs on a rechargeable battery, moves when you press the “gas” pedal, turns when you turn the steering wheel, and even goes into reverse.
We were a motley team: two salespeople, one medical tech, one college professor, one computer programmer, and (thank Heaven) one mechanical engineer. But in spite of the somewhat limited qualifications, we managed to get most of the toys assembled. Getting the Hummer down the stairs was a challenge, but we were up to it.
And then we opened the box containing the table that was supposed to play host to a train track, trestle, bridges, and even the train. It contained no less than two dozen pieces, a bag of assorted screws, nuts and bolts, and not one single word of instruction. A three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle. The professor and the programmer looked at it, looked at each other, and called the engineer. There was a bit of trial and error. We discovered that you cannot put the drawer stops in place before the drawer is in its slots. We also discovered that right and left have meaning even when they are not marked.
There was much laughing and head scratching and video taking. I suspect the latter may lead to a bit of blackmail somewhere down the line, but not at Christmas, surely. We even managed to get the monster down the staircase and in place under the tree before exhaustion set in and we all fell into bed.
The first thing I saw when I stumbled into the room with the toys after the boys woke on Christmas morning was Will. He had a railroad car in each hand and was moving them carefully over the tracks. He continued to do so for the next two hours, ignoring all efforts to get him to open presents, play with bicycles or radio-controlled cars. He even ignored the mighty Hummer.
Matthew opened his own presents and was more than glad to help anyone else open theirs if they were not moving fast enough to suit him. Alex climbed on the tricycle and immediately mastered pushing buttons to make noises, although his real aim was to regain possession of the M&Ms that had been confiscated the evening before.
But the thing I will always remember about this Christmas is hearing the mother’s voice as I sat nursing a cup of coffee in the dining room: “No, Matthew, the Hummer will not fit into the kitchen.”
Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.
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