A Teacher's Lesson

Today started out pretty well but did not finish nearly as strong. By the time school was over I'd spilled tea all over my desk and the newly updated October dates on my desk calendar were blurry and damp and ruined. I tripped over something or other and misplaced the pages I needed for periods 4 and 5 to complete the agree-disagree statements we had left to debate. The late afternoon and evening proceeded about the same with a trip to Fed-ex to retrieve my daughter's Ipod that was not fixed in the least. The diagnosis fee if I send it back is $100. I had to deliver the bad news which made her very sad. I slopped enchilada sauce all over the counter, twice, and now I am supposed to be grading, but the efficiency tank is bone dry.

So I was ruminating on this no good, very bad day. For all that went wrong, two things I almost forgot went right.

First, last Friday I collected daily writing journals from my high school juniors. Now I am hefting bags of 57 journals with 20 entries each. Don't bother to argue that they don't need to be read. I create serious connections with my students in these journals as I ask them light questions like, how old is your little brother ? or more serious do you need help? Anyway, it takes some students a good while to warm up to writing every day. So today, their first day without journals for a week, two students said they already were missing writing in them. My teacher-heart grew a size.

Second, after school today the boy who previously has walked out in a disgusted huff, frustrated that the class doesn't always work the way he wants it to, hung around. He wanted to share a poem he'd written about waking up on a cold, dewy morning. Sharing anything you write is a risk. Sharing your poetry riskier still. Sharing your poetry with your teacher, an act of bravery. Still there was the poem written on lined paper with loopy f's I couldn't read, powerful words and artful imagery. Once he'd shared the one, he read me another. A boy with the brave heart of a poet, shared a bit of himself with me. That's a moment to savor. Tomorrow he says he will bring in a novella he's been working on. We talked about the process of writing, writer blocks and characters that don't know what to do next. I hope he will share more in the future.

I may have been physically clumsy today, but as a teacher, for at least a couple of shining moments, I had the grace of a dancer. Because in the best moments of a teacher's day, your students teach you as much, if not more, than you are teaching them. It isn't really about the stack of papers at the end of the day.

Score One For Free Time

The school year is in full swing. Free time is precious and in short supply. Each day I greet 115 sixteen to eighteen year-olds and try to capture their attention long enough to fill them full of literary, communication and writing knowledge. They bring their stories of when they went to bed (often in the wee hours of the morning), how they spent their days and weekends (texting, movies, hanging out, activities and the occasional bout of homework), and what's bugging them.

I like them. I like their stories. I like the teaching. I fear the grading.

The grading is what eats away free time. The other thing chewing away at the edges of free time is a class I need (one of two) to get recertified to teach. In Washington we call this the ProCert (Professional Certification). I must make a portfolio. Former students will smile with satisfaction after completing one so that they could graduate.

So I work during the days at school. Then I come home in the evenings and do homework and grade things. My own daughters require some attention mostly in the form of things they need to shop for (homecoming dresses, gifts, jeans that fit, etc.) or places they need to be driven. Occasionally they need a piece of advice.

Today is Saturday. I woke up ready to get to my homework and grading (a full recyclable grocery bag full), but first had a variety of household tasks to complete:

• Clean the shower
• Fold some laundry
• Meet the dryer repair guy
• Clean up the dryer area
• Make dinner in the crockpot...Sloppy Joes
• Sew straps on Mckenna's homecoming dress
• Sew purse for Mckenna's homecoming dress (this I added on and shouldn't have)
• Take Mckenna to friend's house
• Help move kayak

So it's 5pm and my homework is done until tomorrow and the bag of grading is no smaller. I seized some writing time though, so score one for FREE TIME. Wait, I hear my bag of grading calling. Better go unpack it.

Crazy Peach Cakes

Where is the line between creative enthusiasm and obsession? I found the line this week. It is called peach cakes. I've crossed this line before. The ingredients for turning a great idea into an obsession are the following:
1 great idea
1 plan to make it reality
1-10 problems to overcome
1-10 reasons to continue beyond normal sanity
a pinch of blind pursuit of the creation

First take the great idea and make a plan, stir well. Then encounter several reasons that this plan may be impractical or unwise to pursue, yet press on where normal people would give up and try something saner. The result will either be complete failure where you kick yourself for wasting your time or something wonderful that may still require some post-creation kicking because the end didn't justify the means.

I am working on a new quilt project now that may just turn out to be this project, but it's too early to tell.

But the peach cakes my daughter and I made this week for my husband's work party 100% qualify. I found a recipe on stumbleupon.com that had what seemed to be a perfect summer cake that I foolishly thought would be easy to make.

With steps that included making your own colored sugar and cutting cinnamon sticks into peach stems, it's difficult now to see why I thought this would be a quick dessert. Other obstacles to this project included the need for special baking pans I didn't have, completion in four hours, and making them look good/real. I resorted to using disposable muffin pans and rounded out the bottoms with an alabaster egg which was round and hard enough to do the job, then I had to cut the cakes smaller because they were too tall to make rounds. After coating the kitchen in frosting and colored sugar granules, Mckenna and I did persevere. The project ran overtime thanks to a break in the project to pick up my other daughter and squeeze in a 15 minute practice drive.

When my husband arrived home to a train-wreck of a kitchen and a platter of half and whole peach cakes, his response: "Why did you go to so much trouble?"

I had no answer.

Mckenna had fled the kitchen by that time realizing that making the cakes look like peaches was stressful, and maybe fun the first time, but not by the 10th or 12th time.

The cakes impressed people at the party. They tasted good too, although that's thanks to the box mix and tub frosting, not my cooking expertise. Do I regret the project? Not really. Will I excite my friends with summertime peach cakes again. Probably not.

I know you may be looking at them thinking.....hmmm....I could make those. That's what I did on the night I found them on the internet. Go ahead and try them if you have four hours to kill. Here's the site: http://www.bigredkitchen.com/2009/07/little-peach-cakes.html. I used pineapple box mix not yellow cake and sour cream frosting not buttercream. I thought a fruit-looking cake should have a fruit taste. But be warned this project is not for the faint of heart, when you finish you'll have a mess, but also a pretty, tasty unique-looking cake. Let me know how it turns out. I'd better go obsess over my latest quilt.