good grades, steep curves- the road to progress SOLC day 6

I'm trying to get started on my students' report cards. Our third quarter ends next week. I teach at a "modified calendar" school so our students attend school for nine weeks, have a few weeks off and come back for nine more and so on. Our students begin school the first week of August after a five week "summer" and end the middle of June. Love the calendar... not hep on report cards. I didn't even like them when we attended school September through June. They're in front of me as I write. They are beautifully organized scan forms with areas on the right signifying "final mark" in teal blue, not to be mistaken for the third quarter mark area in white. They will entail bubbling 58 bubbles per 18 students. Those perfectly shaded with number two lead pencil bubbles will include six coded comments that will describe the attainment level of our content area and behavior habits objectives worked on this quarter. Six bubbled comments! Six sets of bubbles for this really aren't enough, but who wants to add to the 40 or so before that point? How can a 80% gray shaded bubble concisely explain the achievement level and pure effort of a boy who went from not ever saying a word in discussion to softly sharing compelling ideas in a group? I can't find the area to bubble that shows a girl's progress made in mathematical thinking and flexibility in using various strategies to solve problems. Hmmm... maybe there is a code for that. I know there aren't comment codes for "blows me away with his mature analysis (not just retelling) of the novel he is reading even though he reads below grade level and rarely turns in homework" or "is just plain charismatic." So, I'm still staring at these darn things and hoping I can make some progress filling something in that doesn't begin to show what my students know.

(inter)cardinal sin- slice of life day 5

I got the call from my friend at 5:05 pm letting me know her metro commute had ended and she was downtown just as I turned onto 8th Street. It was five minutes after I said we (two other friends and I) would probably be at the corner of 8th and Pennsylvania at the Starbucks to meet her for dinner before we were off to hear novelist Susan Vreeland speak about her latest, "Luncheon of the Boating Party." Rare perfect timing. It is always questionable when driving into our nation's capital during rush hour. We hadn't picked a restaurant yet, opting instead to choose from the ten cuisines, various decors, and as many price ranges once we got there. Perfect parking karma. I had a spot in front of a Thai restaurant and considered this a sign. Just had to meet our friend across the street and lead her back to our pick. We scanned the crowd as we walked across the street. No friend. We scanned the crowd of commuters coming out of the metro stop. No friend. I called her back. She was in the Starbucks on the corner. Great. Walked in. No friend. Uh oh... a sinking feeling as I mentally read back my email sent earlier confirming our rendezvous time and place. I couldn''t remember putting SE after 8th Street. I committed the tourist's ultimate sin of navigaton in Washington DC. I didn't specify the quadrant! Doesn't help there are 92 Starbucks within a five mile radius. I called my friend. "Uh, are you at 8th and Pennsylvania, NW?" "Yes." I dropped the SE word on her. It's always good to refresh one's Italian driving technique. I actually hope sometime to use it again on real Roman roads. With my best autostrada skills I drove north and west on Pennsylvania past the Library of Congress and the Capitol and a few Capitol police cars, past the Botanical Gardens and the National Museum of the American Indian, crossed the National Mall and swung left at the National Gallery. We were a scene from National Treasure. Without the hanging from a van door of course. We arranged to pick up our hungry friend at the National Gallery EAST, drove back to First and C, SE and found a cozy, quick Mexican restaurant for dinner before heading to 12th and Independence, SW. Good times.

baseball, hotdogs, and a virtual waiting room- slice of life story day 4

Today was the first day single game tickets went on sale for my local major league baseball team. Although our family is part of the Red Sox Nation we are magnaminous enough to root for our hometown National League team. I got on the website this morning to add one ticket to the two we already had for a game in April. Our family shares two season tickets with some folks and we needed a third for our birthday girl. My husband and I plan to rotate into the single seat so the birthday girl could go to the game with both of us. Buying a baseball ticket was a little more complicated than I thought it would be. But then again, baseball isn't just a summer game played on grass anymore. Granted this is the inaugural season in a state of the art, media-enhanced, eco-friendly, fan-friendly ballpark in our nation's capital that also has a great view of historic landmarks and a scoreboard with more square footage than my house. But, geez. Should it take this kind of multi-tasking? I was on the phone redialing the ticket office while I was in a virtual waiting room for online ticket buyers all the while keeping the ballpark seating chart up so I could see the sections closest to the tickets we already had. Don't let the "12 seconds" left in the "waiting room" fool you. That button refreshed every 15 seconds and I "sat" in the room long enough for about 120 refreshments. I'm not talking hot dogs. At long last... one great seat on the first base line just past the home dugout. Play ball.

cleveland rocks- slice of life day 3

Today as I was driving on the Capital Beltway during rush hour en route to BWI Airport, I salved my commuting soul with a little NPR. All Things Considered had a great piece by David C. Barnett about an historical radio show originating from Cleveland in the 30s and 40s. The nationally successful program, Wings Over Jordan often documented and discussed the racial struggles of African-Americans as part of the sermon and between gospel singing, way before television proposed to report it. This is a story worth listening to or reading.

The part that caught my attention and flashed a memory during my drive was:
"Wings Over Jordan was born in the sanctuary of Gethsemane Baptist Church on Cleveland's east side. In the 1930s, the city was a collection of ethnic neighborhoods — Italian, Polish, Slovak — and each one got an hour on the radio. "

I will never forget and have often told people of my first visions driving north on I-71 to downtown Cleveland when my husband and I first moved there in 1986. I saw church spires everywhere. I was astounded by the population of churches in the old neighborhoods surrounding Cleveland. They were all practically walking distance apart. I grew to realize how those neighborhoods were (and continue to be) the center of social and spiritual life for the European immigrants and subsequent generations that came to work the farms and factories. The three years I lived there I loved how each neighborhood/church had maintained its own ethnic identity, festivals, feasts, and foods.

Hearing the program today made me curious about the programs these churches must have aired. I'm sure they were in Polish, Italian, Gaelic... maybe even had some news from the old country. I wondered who paid for airtime and how much it cost.

The rest of the quote above follows: "But Gethsemene pastor Glenn T. Settle found no such program for the local African-American population. He went to WGAR, and in the summer of 1937, The Negro Hour hit the airwaves, with Settle delivering homilies between the hymns." What incredible vision and courage Reverend Settle had to promote civil rights in that time period. The fact he had to search for air time, that it wasn't offered is telling. What a great picture of one of my favorite cities today.

comfort food- SOLC day 2

Today my best galpal and I went to have a comfort food lunch. Meat loaf, steaming hot biscuits, mac and cheese, lasagne, and buttery mashed potatoes might be what you mentally conjure when you think comfort foods, but for me, it's oyaku donburi (pictured). Japanese to English translation: chicken and egg rice bowl. Oyaku means mother and child in Japanese- thus, the chicken and egg. I don't care which came first when I eat this delicious food with a cup of very hot green tea and crisp radishes. The tea I gingerly hold with my hands cupped only at the bottom as is the custom. The second we walked into the little restaurant, heard irrasshaimase (welcome) and saw the sushi counter, the wood, the paper decorations, the limited menu, the crowded tables, and then, smelled the wafts of miso soup under our noses, we knew we were in the right place. My friend isn't Japanese but she has lived there twice and loves Japanese food. I came by it genetically. I grew up eating osoba (noodles) or rice with pickles for breakfast. Sometimes before school on a cold day I would pour my green tea into my rice to make soup and sprinkle with furikake (Japanese dried seasoning). Sometimes I still do. Much like a hot crusty baguette, rice is my staff. We read the menu with indecision. We wanted it all. Once we decided we couldn't order fast enough. We had "kid, hobby, education(we both teach), what's new?" talk as we swapped plates and bowls after every couple of bites to be sure we had completely indulged our palates. All the while as my chopsticks picked up morsels of food I had thoughts of childhood, school, meals with my mom, and smells from our kitchens past. That is true comfort.

slice of life story- day 1

Saturdays are Kerry's days. She is our 16 year old and much like her two older sisters did, usually has a sport practice, game or meet. I got to take her to basketball practice today. (Dad usually gets this pleasure.) I'm glad I got to go. I didn't know it but it was the last practice of the season and I wouldn't have gotten to scrimmage in the parents versus athletes game. Picture 20 kids and as many parents on a court at once. It was also good to see the parents, many of whom I wouldn't see regularly til next fall when our group of Special Olympic athletes will play soccer together. I realized today this team started out when most of the kids were eight years old and now they are teenagers! I realized our kids have played soccer and basketball together for the last eight years. We've gone from getting our kids to hold or dribble a ball to getting our kids together for a movie and pizza. Time flies.

slice of life challenge

Two Writing Teachers posted a challenge to share "slices of life"... you know those ordinary things that on closer look may be more interesting than you think. I'm going for it. In fact, I can't wait to see what pops up during my day. It's also being used for student writing. Brilliant.

Image citing:http://www.magimix-spares.co.uk/media/stock/0000071A.JPG