Summer Eats!

It's been a while since I've blogged, but I've decided that I want to keep it up over the summer.

I love that I can really relax when dinner time rolls around in the summer. I don't feel like I have the liberty to experiment during the school year, so making a meal September through June truly feels laborious. Perhaps this burden would be eased if I would just given in and make a "menu," but I hate the idea of eating a certain kind of food just because I scheduled it for that particular day.

Regardless of my menu musings, I'd like to post some of the yummy things that I have been making so far this summer:

Thursday, June 24

Garlic and White Wine Chicken

Ramen Noodle Salad

Sauteed Summer Squash

Friday, June 25

Parmesan Crusted Flounder

Homemade Focaccia Bread (Herb, Parmesan, and Onion0

Ramen Noodle Salad

Saturday, June 26

Turkey Burgers on Focaccia Buns

Corn on the Cob

Sunday, June 27

Butternut Squash Ravioli in a Sage Brown Butter Sauce

Shrimp Rangoon Cups

Monday, June 28

Turkey and Refried Bean Tostadas in Tortilla Bowls

Corn on the Cob

The End is in Sight

Whew!

I am nearly at the end! We have two more teacher days left at school, so as of Monday afternoon, I will be on summer vacation!

The load gets a little lighter with every exam I grade. And it's been such a relief to empty out my bag a little every day. I've brought a little less home with me each night this week and it feels great!

Aside from finishing up my grades, the only other hurdle in front of me is packing up my entire classroom. I'm moving to a new room next year, so I have a lot of packing and purging to do. This challenge is a lot more imposing than a stack of papers, but I know that lightening the load and getting rid of the "stuff" that I have accumulated over the past 8 years will be good for me.

The other day I was remarking to one of my colleagues that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Yeah, but you've got to watch out," he said.

I have to admit, I was a little perplexed. "Huh?" I mused.

"Well," he began. "Sometimes that light is an on-coming train."

And while that may be true, I'm going to just keep on moving headlong through this tunnel. In the spirit of the little engine that could, "I think I can!"

Revisions

Here is a second draft of my revised piece. I am considering working in some more allusions to Alice and Wonderland.

Second Draft

A Monday Morning in May

How come 5:30 didn't seem so early in September?

But now it's a Monday morning in late May

And I feel weighed down by my own exhaustion,

comforted only by the cocoon of covers.

My pillow is no match for the piercing sound

Of the alarm clock as it wails, and wails, and wails

I extend an arm to reach for it, and I fumble, clumsily.

My fingers pass over the buttons as if they are reading Braille,

But I'm awkward and groggy and slow.

After stumbling, and stumbling, and stumbling,

Thankfully--finally--I hit it.

Snooze.

Fifteen minutes.

The first five feel like forever

And I can feel myself getting sucked into a dark and encompassing sleep.

Soon I'm falling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

I tumble past questions and decisions and reminders;

I'm not thinking about what to wear, what to have for lunch,

or remembering that I have to pack my highlighted copy of The Great Gatsby.

This is an exceptional state of slumber.

I am plummeting to Wonderland where I am without worry.

I'm not even thinking about whether or not the photocopier will jam this morning

Or that I need to sign out the TV for G-Block.

In this kind of sleep it's like I've never heard of an agenda,

a 7:30 parent meeting, or NEAS&C.

Before I get a chance to meet the Mad Hatter,

the sound calls from far away

And again, that alarm clock is wailing, and wailing, and wailing

And again, I reach, fumble, and finally hit it.

Snooze.

But before I can enjoy those first five minutes,

that drifting off when a thought about the day is not possible,

I feel a finger poking me gently--but with certainty--beneath my ribs.

"Are you going to get in the shower?"

Though his eyes are closed, he smiles like he's some kind of Cheshire cat.

First Draft

A Monday Morning in May

How come 5:30 didn't seem so early in September?

I'm slow to wake on a Monday morning in late May

The alarm clock wails, and wails, and wails

I extend an arm to reach for it, but I fumble, clumsily

My fingers pass over the buttons as if they are reading Braille and they do not understand

And thankfully--finally--I hit it.

Snooze.

Fifteen minutes.

The first five feel like forever

And I can feel myself getting sucked into a dark and encompassing sleep.

Soon I'm falling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

This is an exceptional state of slumber.

I'm not even thinking about whether or not the photocopier will jam this morning

Or that I need to sign out the TV for G-Block.

In this kind of sleep it's like I've never heard of an agenda,

a 7:30 parent meeting, or NEAS&C.

Before I get a chance to meet the Mad Hatter,

the sound calls from far away

And again, that alarm clock is wailing, and wailing, and wailing

And again, I reach, fumble, and finally hit it.

Snooze.

But before I can enjoy those first five minutes,

I feel a finger poking me gently--but with certainty--beneath my ribs.

"Are you going to get in the shower?"

Though his eyes are closed, he smiles like he's some kind of Cheshire cat.

Thank You

I've got to head to bed since I'll need to be up in a few hours to head out to the city, but I wanted to make a quick post.

I just finished grading my stack of Senior exams. This isn't a fun task by any means, but I found a surprise when I was reviewing an essay. One of my students took the time to write me a thank you note after her essay. Discovering this was a little overwhelming (in a good way!). Her gesture was so thoughtful, yet I'm not sure that she is aware how much her kind words made a difference to me.

Maybe they made a difference because it's late or because I'm tired.

I am, however, fairly certain that her words made a difference because I would have never thought in a million years that this particular student would have taken the time to write me a note. This is just another example of how my students never fail to surprise me.

My students are kind, generous, articulate, and bright people.

My students make my job worth it.

A New York State of Mind

I'm headed to the Big Apple in the early morning hours tomorrow. I will be traveling with my husband, his teaching team, and approximately 40 sophomores via bus to NYC. This will be the second time (this year and in my life) that I have traveled with students to the city before. I am really looking forward to going to the Met (to see the Greek and Roman exhibits) and I'm very excited to see Stomp on Broadway. In fact, I may be more excited than the kids! I may be a small-town girl at heart, but there is something about New York that is thrilling to me.

I'm also eager to reflect about this experience--and post some pictures!

Busy, Busy, Busy

Whew!

I cannot believe that tomorrow is Friday! This has certainly been a hectic week. My Seniors have been busy taking their exams...and it seems that I will be busy correcting them! I feel so caught up in wrapping up all of the "Senior business" and I have to remind myself to be present with my Juniors and to enjoy the time that I have left with them (Friday and Monday are the last class days before exams).

My students have really been enjoying Miller's Death of a Salesman. My teaching partner and I were reflecting on how they have really seemed to love all of the plays that we have read this year. For some reason they seem to be particularly responsive to anything related to acting. Using drama in the classroom has been a great way to help the students connect (in more ways than one!) to the literature. Nancy (my teaching partner) remarked that the energy in the room was palpable when we were acting out the Lomans' story. The kids are on the edges of their seats as we flip through each page. It has also been rewarding to see Andre progress as an actor. He began the year as Ezekial Cheever in The Crucible and is now reading Biff's part in Death of a Salesman. We were also surprised to observe Amber, a usually quiet student, blow us away when she acted out the part of Rachel in Inherit the Wind. When we suggested that she participate in the theater club, her face lit up. And now, she strides to the front of the room with confidence, ready to transform herself into Linda Loman.

While the kids have been transforming themselves into new characters in our classroom, they have actually been transforming themselves.

My students have taught me that reading together--as a community--is a very powerful thing. They have reminded me that reading is indeed an active process, a process that includes movement, interaction, dialogue, and reflection. When we read--or act--together I hear and see things that I couldn't observe on my own. What I appreciate most is that the characters that I love come alive.

Gatsby, Hester, Willy, John Proctor, Huck.

They might not actually exist, but my students make them real.

The Time's They are a-Changin'

Bob Dylan's tune has never been truer.

In fact, his song could very well become my next personal anthem. While my personal world retains some much needed and sacred consistency, it seems as though my professional world is headed for a tailspin.

Education is filled with transitory moments. Everything is temporary and changes at some point. The schedule. A teaching assignment. Your room assignment. Your students. Your colleagues. And I've always found the "change element" to be the refreshing part of my job. When you have a challenging student, there is hope for her to change. When you struggle with a particular class of students, there is hope for change. When you feel overwhelmed or overburdened by a particular task or assignment, there is always hope for change. For me, change has always represented the potential to improve, to grow, and to begin new opportunities.

The change on my horizon presents all of the things that I love about change: opportunities for renewal, growth, and improvement. I am eager to be teaching two new Shakespeare classes (and who wouldn't be???). I am excited to be moving to a new room next year. This is an excellent opportunity for me to simplify--to toss out all of the papers and "teachery" things that I have been hoarding for the past eight years. I am excited to cast away the various paper items that I find myself swimming in.

Sometimes change comes at a cost. Several beloved colleagues are retiring at the year's end. And while I am excited to see these veterans head off in new directions, I wonder what it will be like without them next year. That is the part of change that I do not like. The part where you cannot recreate the same sense of security. People--colleagues and kids--change all the time. And sometimes, you just cannot fill in the gaps. Our district will have a new superintendent this summer as well. To top it all off, our principal has just resigned. He has just decided that it is time to move on. And I cannot blame him. The past three years have worn him down and it's clear that his heart is in a classroom and not an office. I just know that I'll miss his vision, his leadership, and his friendship.

Now my colleagues all wonder what will become of our ship now that we're without a captain. I think that we have a pretty tough crew and that if we just keep on rowing towards the same island, we will all be fine. What troubles me is those who are already starting to defect, those who are giving in to negativity, and whining, and doubt. I hope to heck that there's no mutiny.

But then again, maybe Bob has a point.

"If your time to you is worth savin' / Then you better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone / The times they are a-changin'."