An Ipod Christmas

My three girls are luv-luv-loving their ipods. I am glad David convinced me to allow them. I had a nice Christmas---overall. I had a perfect last day of school Friday, including watching Akeelah and the Bee with my students and sending them each home with wonderful portraits and poems to give to their parents. I couldn't ask for a better mix of kids. Mom and I reached a fragile understanding about roles, intentions, and commitments---the process of reaching this understanding helped me work through some of my own fears regarding my family and my shortcomings. I have stacks and stacks of books to read and ideas to explore.

There are between 70-100 million AK47s in the world and they have been at the center of most armed conflicts of the last fifty years.

Only a few hours until Lisa arrives. Yeah.

Starfish

I admitted to Stephen that I have been having "moments of spirituality" lately. That was probably a mistake, cuz if anything, these moments have been quite fleeting and quite private, and I am in no position to describe the moon.

Several of these moments, though, have been related to work and there is an essay by Loren Eisley that captures the passion and love I've been feeling lately. Here's the short essay:

A Single Starfish

One day an old man was walking along the beach. It was low tide, and the sand was littered with thousands of stranded starfish that the water had carried in and then left behind. The man began walking very carefully so as not to step on any of the beautiful creatures. Since the animals still seemed to be alive, he considered picking some of them up and putting them back in the water, where they could resume their lives.

The man knew the starfish would die if left on the beach's dry sand but he reasoned that he could not possibly help them all, so he chose to do nothing and continued walking.

Soon afterward, the man came upon a small child on the beach who was frantically throwing one starfish after another back into the sea. The old man stopped and asked the child, "What are you doing?"

"I'm saving the starfish," the child replied.

"Why waste your time?... There are so many you can't save them all so what does is matter?" argued the man.

Without hesitation, the child picked up another starfish and tossed the starfish back into the water... "It matters to this one," the child explained.

I don’t think of this story and then compare it to my life in the obvious way by pretending that each student is one starfish. I don’t think my teaching work “saves” any of them like that. But I often think about each day as a starfish. I can’t possibly effect a drastic enough change to get this little person all the way back to the sea—but I can make a difference today. I can ensure that they are well taught, well disciplined, and well loved today. Which is no easy task, when you remember that there are twenty-two students in my care. And despite the daunting task of changing a life, or the daunting task of throwing back every starfish, I believe this day counts. This one day, and every single day, for all twenty-two of these children, really counts. And maybe, maybe, maybe, there’s a chance that some of these baby starfish are learning to crawl and maybe some of them are absorbing enough love to crawl to the sea on their own one day.

Anticipating Christmas

Robert is flying to Fargo on Saturday, December 23rd and returning on December 28th. I'm not sure what we'll do for Christmas Eve or Christmas day. It's going to feel weird with just me and the girls here. I've got some of their presents already, but need to get a couple more things. At least they're easy to shop for.

The guy I described in my last post, the Homeless Liason guy, met with Jessie on Thursday morning, to get ready for the meeting we had yesterday (Friday) morning with Joann, his mom, and the bus driver that suspended him. We have this thing in my class where we listen for our vocabulary words and when Jessie got back to class he let me know that Mike had said "incredible" two times and "capable" once. So the big meeting was okay---this capable, courageous, incredible child tells the truth and apologizes for everything---including one thing nobody (except me) even knew he was involved in. Joann was nice enough and the whole thing only lasted about 1/2 an hour. I'm sure Mike has no idea how critical his prescense was to the positive tone that Joann maintained. I still question all her decisions in the whole situation: he shouldn't have been suspended from the bus in the first place, he absolutley should never have been suspended from our after school program, and I don't think she has any idea how much Mike and I did to make sure this meeting happened and that our policy regarding the YMCA and after school program be officially revised. I guess, in looking back, maybe he should have been suspended from the bus. I think he ended up learning a valuable lesson. But there is the whole "with love" part of discipline that is so missing from Joann's approach---but I think between his momma, me, and Mike, there was enough love to make the consequence about learning and "we know you can make better choices" and not about "you're a terrible kid."

We picked out the classrooms we're going to move into in the new building. If we really get the rooms we picked, they are the best rooms in the whole building. It's going to be a fun February this year. We're going to have Valentine's Day, move out of Lowell, have President's Day, and come back to our new building, all within one week.

An Ally

There is an administrator level position in our district called the "Homeless Liaison". The person who holds this position now is an excellent advocate for children and his little closet office is a hop, skip, and jump down the hall from my classroom. He's much better than the last person that had the position and I've been very friendly to him all year. Well----he has become involved now in the whole situation with my student Jessie and I am so happy to report that things are looking up. He already made sure that Jessie can ride the bus again. I told him a little bit about my concerns with the YMCA evening program and how it is so tightly bound up with our after school program and he went off on this speech that fully voiced all my feelings---and just hearing him so strongly advocating for this child almost made me cry. Someone else cares about these kids, someone with some power. He'll probably even be at the meeting that Jessie's mom is required to have with Joann soon.

There are a couple of really hard parts about leaving Washington that I've been remembering: my baby plan, including having a strong student teacher take my class the last couple of months and having West High and Clara and daycare all so close, well that can't be the same anywhere else. Mr. Brown stayed at Washington through all sorts of Voldemort hell just cuz of his kid at West. There's also the new school---which I personally helped to design. My handprint is on that multi-million dollar building and I'd love to be there for a while. Not that I've forgotten why it's important to transfer---it's just that there really are these other considerations.

Happy Birthday Harriet

Harriet took a Mexican milk cake to her class today and seems to have had a very fun day. She had a friend here after school and she invited three friends to her birthday dinner tomorrow. Mom, Dad, Tina, David, and Lydie will also be here tomorrow evening. I've just got to figure out what soup to cook. Maybe chili from scratch.

Jessie made it to school two days in a row, without the services of the transporation department of the district. He gets a lot of credit for that feat. I'm sure he would have been allowed to stay home if he wanted to.

Anyway, I'm still sticking by that decision I made over this.

Promise

This will be my last year working under my current boss. That's a promise. If by some wonderful miracle she retires, or moves to another school, that means I'll still teach at Washington. If, however, she stays, I'm leavin'. And I know some people might doubt me because I waffled all over this same decision last spring and ended up staying at Washington. But this time it's different and here's why: 1) I let go of my most favorite, most adorable, most fun group of students last year, when they all moved onto middle school. And it was okay. And then this year I fell helplessly and passionately in love with all 22 kids that are in my class. I really wasn't sure this would happen, but of course it did. And I'm sure it will happen again and again. That's teaching. That's life. 2) I've learned that there is no good coping strategy. Last year we tried to problem solve and communicate. Didn't work. This year I tried to stay far under the radar, avoid the office at all costs, keep my head down and my door closed, and just do my very best teaching work by my own 22 darlins---but this strategy is not working either. I need to work under someone whose judgment I trust and for whom I feel respect. Period. 3) It's not just about how she doesn't see and refuses to deal with poor teaching in our building. I got to the point this year where I could just ignore all that. But she was malicious to two different families this week, unreasonably cruel to two different children; and so I'm finished. I won't work at a school where she's the boss. And 4) I feel very relieved and at peace and sure about the choice. Last year I'd decide and then hate the decision and change my mind and never feel settled. That isn't how I feel now. I feel calm and sure and excited for a new adventure. If only, if only, if only Jen and I could land somewhere together.

In case you're wondering: the catalyst for this decision was in a situation involving this student of mind named Jessie. She visited the shelter where he lives, saw how his mom was hanging out and flirting with some guys, not working while we were "dealing with her kids" and decided she wanted to "teach her a lesson." So Jessie isn't suspended from school, but he can't ride the bus for five days and his mom is required to meet with the district transportation department before he can ever ride the bus again. I'm not sure when I'll see him again. And don't forget: the eight hours (including an hour after school) that this child is in my care he is being well disciplined, well taught, and well cared for. Who knows what's going to happen to him now. I'm devastated, of course. It's frustrating and infuriating.

The Adoption is Finalized, finally, and another Book Meme

Our adoption finalization was Monday. The judge signed everything. It's 100 percent official and finished--these three lovely girls are ours, MINE--forever. What I didn't really understand until this week, though, was that this very formal, legal change matters to my HEART! Who knew? To borrow (and twist) a metaphor from a favorite book character of mine named Everett, it's like my heart is the egg, the egg in those beautiful and very scientific sex-ed videos, and the finalization of this adoption is like the sperm that penetrated the egg. So after the one lucky sperm gets through the membrane of that egg, the cell wall of the egg is transformed. It is hardened and no more sperms can get through. So, for me, the opposite has occurred--my heart hasn't been hardened, but instead this single event has peeled my hard, protective shell away. The possibility that they might one day be taken away has been eliminated---hence a softening, an opening, and an exploding of the walls surrounding my sensitive middle. This love for my daughters, that I didn't even realize could grow deeper and stronger, has, in fact grown deeper and stronger---and, yes, also, harder, more solid, more bullet proof and more permanent. But also more expansive and more encompassing. Who knew that a silly piece of paper could spark such wierd, but real changes in my most breakable of organs??? Well enough, already, of this romantic blah blah blah. But wow, really--Wow!

And now a book meme:
1. How old were you when you learned to read and who taught you?

This is a favorite story of mine. One of those stories that shapes my identity. My mom taught me to read, on her lap, reading out loud to me, well before kindergarten. I don't have any memories of this process. I have been a reader as far back as I am able to remember.

2. Did you own any books as a child? If so, what's the first one that you remember owning? If not, do you recall any of the first titles that you borrowed from the library?

There were plenty of books that I owned, or that we owned, when I was a child. I remember the Childcraft encyclopedia books, I remember The Wheedle on the Needle and other books in the Serendipity series. I remember Lisa's Dr. Suess book called All About Me. I remember these dungeon and dragon role playing books that I adored in about fifth grade. I have many savory book memories.

3. Were you a re-reader as a child? If so, which book did you re-read most often?

No, I wasn't a big re-reader as a child, and I'm not as an adult. There are a few books that I've enjoyed re-reading. I've read The Brothers K about six times in the last 12 years. But, in general, I consume, comprehend, and thoroughly digest books the first time through.

4. What'’s the first adult book that captured your interest and how old were you when you read it?

The Hobbit. I'm not sure I really understood the whole book but I read most of it when I was in fourth grade and loved the parts that I was able to understand.


5. Are there children's books that you passed by as a child that you have learned to love as an adult? Which ones?

Nope--I'm a stubborn reader. I didn't like Island of the Blue Dolphins as a child and I've never given it a second chance.

6. What's the first book that you bought with your own money?

I loved the Nancy Drew series and remember spending many hard-earned babysitting dollars on those books when I was 11 or so. Books have always been one of my most costly addictions. I have made a shift, in the last year or so, though, away from excessive book buying, toward maximizing all the multiple potentials of the city libraries. I still buy too many books, primarily for my classroom, but my book addiction has been often met, recently, by library book browsing, reserving, and reading.

Build-A-Bear

After hours and hours of hard work, raking leaves, my three girls took their cash and spent a combined total of 80 dollars at Build-A-Bear last week. I know it's their money and they earned it, and the whole point is that they can spend it how they want---but 80 dollars on over-priced doll clothes?!! Oh well. I'm sure my book habbit is just as bizarre to them.

I know I've mentioned this about three times in the last year, but just so everyone knows: Easter is really reading now. She is way into this cute little new chapter book called CLEMENTINE. She gets stuck on some words, but she loves the story and I am blown-away by her progress in reading over the last year and a half.

The official adoption date is set for Monday, November 27th. The pirhana lawyer told me yesterday, when I called him, that there were some things missing from our file. I went off on him. Told him how we'd been trying to get this done for over eight months, that I was so frustrated and angry that he's just now telling me this, and on and on a bit. He called back five minutes later and said he "found" the missing stuff. I'm hoping there aren't any more hitches and that everything can be finished and final and forever on Monday.

Early Bird

I have at least two loyal readers, so I'm motivated to blog even more frequently. We'll see how long this lasts.

I wake up around 6:00 a.m. Can't help it. Don't need to. But I can never get back to sleep. I think it's because of coffee and adrenaline. My coffee drinking somehow makes my sleeping schedule very rigid. And I always start to feel some adrenaline pumping through my brain cells after I barely wake up and start mapping out my teaching for the day and start looking forward to working.

I have this very super favorite student right now, a fifth grader named Jessie. He loves math, is pretty good at reading, and is also an amazing athlete. He was the only fourth grader on my little basketball team last year. He also lives in the Road Home shelter, has gang affiliated uncles and proclivities, and is a natural born leader. He's been labeled by our super incompetent, tyrant administrator as "bad". So I've become his number one advocate lately. He's a kid with some problems, but he has so much potential and a really sweet side, and I sometimes feel so angry when we're willing to dismiss kids as hopeless when they're only 10. I made him my assistant in the after school reading program and so he's not getting in trouble after school anymore. He relishes meaningful responsibilities and he's also the editor-in-chief of our classroom newspaper. I keep on getting worried that he's going to move and will miss him a lot when he does.

Later--Not two hours after writing that loving description I was informed that Jessie's family got kicked out of the homeless shelter. He wasn't at school and my heart was falling to pieces, but then it turns out they can move back to the shelter tomorrow (??) and he even showed up to school around 11:00 today--with his homework. What some people, even children, survive everyday, is unimaginable to me. That kid is truly one of my heroes.

Guilt, Passion, and a Meme

Okay--here's a couple things I've come to own recently: I take my teaching profession so serious and I am so passionate about it that I occasionally wonder if it deters from more important responsibilities, like parenting. Take the recent Halloween fiasco, for example. By the end of the day of October 31st, 2006, I was so drained and exhausted from both planning loads of extravagant fun for my class and from fighting futiley against a capricious tyrant on behalf of a couple kids, that I pretty much sank into my bed at 7:30 and skipped out on trick-or-treating with my girls. But here's the thing: Robert is totally not into Halloween, he's even vaguely against the holiday, and I don't see how I can expect myself to work full time, and then come home and have the energy to recreate my own childhood, all by myself, for these children of ours, which isn't even what they necessarily need or even want.

So--I'm just going to lose the guilt already. I love my kids at school, I'm super passionate about teaching well and so I'm going to stop apologizing to myself all the time for my many shortcomings-- for my lack of motherliness and my lack of time and my lack of dedication to my family. I'm doing the best I can for all the kids that I love, my girls included. It's okay to work hard at work and relax more when it comes to my own kids. I make sure they're reading, I check their homework, I cook their dinner (usually), and I try to make sure they feel safe and loved, and that's enough--good enough. No more guilt.

And now for the meme:

What part of the past would you bring back if you possibly could?

The few years I had in college when I took classes because they sounded interesting and was still extremely idealistic and optimistic about the majority of life's problems and possibilities.

What character trait would you alter if you could?

I wish I wasn't so shy. I'm not really shy with kids, even ones I just met, but I'm painfully shy with all adults, even ones I know.

Which skill would you like to have the time and energy to really work on?

I wish I had time to learn how to draw and paint, and I also wish I had time and energy to devote to learning more about photography--in the artistic sense.

Are you money poor, love poor, time poor or freedom poor?

Money poor--but only relative to people of my same age and social class.

What element of your partner's character would you alter if you could?

OCD--I'd eliminate his need to have everything EXTREMELY organized and ordered.

What three things are you going to do next year that you've been meaning to do for ages but never got around to?

Next year? Hmmm, I'm going to compile an annotated list of great picture books, take the girls hiking once, and fix all the sprinklers in our yard.

If your fairy godmother gave you three wishes, what would you wish for?

A small class (22 or less) every year for the rest of my teaching life.

A long list of books recommendations that I will love.

That Kevin and Lisa could live on a planet inside Utah, that's not Utah, but would be only a ten minute drive or less from my house.

What one thing would you change about your living conditions?

I'd xeriscape the backyard and have a well sheltered hot tub built back there.

How could the quality of your free time be improved?

If I had some more friends, especially outside-of-work friends.

What change have you made to your life recently that you'’re most proud of?

I'm putting into actual practice almost every single damn thing I know about teaching well, which is a feat that I don't think many people in the world would really appreciate. But I don't do if for appreciation or recognition--I do it for my students--but I'm still proud of it.

Parent Conferences

It doesn't matter how many years I've been doing this or how I know, logically, that the same thing happens every year, but here's how it always goes: I get worried, worried sick, almost, about meeting with all my students' parents. No matter how prepared I am for the conferences, or how hard I've been working with the students, I always get all these gut twisting fears. I worry the parents will ask me questions that imply I'm not doing enough, or that they'll express extreme dissatisfaction with their child's experience in my classroom. I start worrying at least a week before, and then worry almost nonstop for a week stright.

And then the conferences will actually happen and they'll be wonderful. I'll enjoy meeting the parents, delight in celebrating the students, and skillfully coach the students through a goal setting process. I'll end up feeling a sense of gratitude from the parents, and a renewed determination to help them all reach their fullest potential. All in all it's always a positive experience. But---that doesn't change one bit the extreme anxiety I get the next time they come around.

Tomrrow and Tuesday are our fall conferences, so I'm in the anxious phase right now. I'll be glad when they're over.

My Girls' First Mom

Easter is the one who coined the lovely name for Florence, Robert's sister, my daughters' other mother: Our First Mom. I had sometimes called her their "real mom" and she is always referred to by her parents as "the Late." "Our first mom" is such a better name. It hasn't been easy, knowing how to honor her memory, how to speak with them about her death, and how to come to terms--myself---with the very confusing feelings of gratitude and anger I sometimes feel. Gratitude for the gift of these children, but of course anger at the world we live and the choices that people made that caused a mother to die and these children to suffer so unnecessarily. But if not for this tragedy, I would not have my precious little family. Robert is still unable to speak much about his sister. There is a very deep sadness there that I suspect may be coupled with crippling guilt--that he wasn't able to do anything to help in time.

One wonderful way of honoring, loving, and remebering developed quite accidentally over the last few months. I loved The Lion King broadway production that I saw with mom and grandma in NYC. There is a powerful broadway-esque song that isn't in the Disney movie called "He Lives in You". In the play it seemed to strongly signify black Christian spiritualism in the US and the "HE" seemed to reference god more than Mufasa. It's got a very gospel feel, but also African drumming and rhythms. I downloaded the song when I got home and it has become Easter's "favorite song", as in "play my favorite song, please," everyday in the car. A few weeks ago I told her about seeing the play and how spectacular it was and about how the song fits in the plot she knows from the Disney movie. I told her we should change the "He" to "She" because little Simba's story is just like her story--so that she could remeber her first mom. So driving home from the library today, a few weeks later, I hear her singing along in her sweet, sincere, soft singing voice:"She lives in me, She watches over, In your reflection, she lives in you. She lives in me."

Cousin Love

Our girls are so lovely and so into each other, you know? Jim lost at poker night last night. I won, but not as much as David. Mom lost. Like Tina always says, if you don't count up your money at the end how are you going to know who the winners are and who the losers are. Tina also came out ahead, but not as much as me. I think.

I'm loving my class, still, but looking forward to a long break starting October 11th--I'm going on a five day road trip to California with mom, Lydia, and Tina. Tinas has big plans for us to win money at Texas Hold Em in Reno. I'll have to make a plan about that before leaving. Like a limit or something.

Raising Readers

My three daughters have all crossed a bridge in the last month or so---I think I can confidently use the adjective "reader" to describe each of them. They have unique reading interests, they read regularly and for pleasure, and they think of themselves as readers! Even E. And this development is, of course, the best gift the universe has handed me recently. Although our reading interests don't yet overlap too much, I am absolutely delighted to see them taking their first real steps into the biblio-sphere.

Weekend Adventures

The Raven Symone concert at the Utah State Fairpark was a smash with the five Sudanese children I chaperoned to the event. I took my three girls plus Ajo and Nancy, a first grade boy and his eighth grade sister. We also ate some delicious State fair cuisine and each got to choose one ride to ride, so our annual fair excursion can be checked off my list of seasonsal must-dos. I must say, and I know this is tOtALLy how she (with Disney's help) sells herself--but that Raven is certainly a wholesome, excellent role model, as well as a totally hip super star. I hadn't even realized she was that one itty-bitty COSBY darling--the adorable little niece in the last few seasons. I am not really looking forward to the transition my girls will make away from the likes of Raven one day.

Yesterday morning I was on 9th South and State street, buying hair for extensions, and I locked my keys in the car. My only spare was in the house. I managed to make the whole round trip, to get the key and get back to my car, via tracks and buses, in under two hours, for only $1.50. It was good to remember all the advantages of public transportation--sure, it takes longer to get from place to place, but you're in contact with the world and with people in a million more ways than from inside the thick bubble of a compact car. I can tell you the subtle shifts in the weather yesterday, I can describe the sounds of downtown on a Saturday, and I got in some superb people watching--there was this goth teenage boy, complete with a black trench coat, badly dyed hair, and a naked pink mouse that he kept feeding and petting. If I ever get a tad more serious about my writing career I think I ought to spend more time on public transit.

Which brings us now to Sunday morning and the joys of writing reading journal letters to each of my lovely students. My very favorite line so far is from a favorite student of mine, who is such an odd little fifth grade princess: "I have been reading Captain Underpants for a very, very long time. I don't know if I'm ready to start changing, or not. If I am, I'll start reading W.I.T.C.H." Such an amazing ability to self-reflect, and it's so true--her teetering on the decision of whether or not to move away from her beloved Captain Underpants obsession.

Labor

We always teach kids about Holidays--like Columbus day, and Veteran's Day, but I never remember learning much about Labor Day. And I've never taught any students anything about it. This only occurred to me becuase there was some great music on NPR's American Roots this morning, all around the theme of LABOR. Working folks. I know there's something about how it was supposed to be May 1st, but I don't know the history.

Traditional breakfast food is my favorite cuisine: waffles, pancakes, crepes, eggs, sausage, bacon, orange juice. I'm setting a goal to learn how to cook some more delicious breakfast foods: good-enough-to eat-for-dinner breakfast foods.

My class is adorable. Likely its only in contrast to the sixth graders we finally set free last spring, but these babies feel so young and innocent and not even close to adolescents. We enjoy at least one picture book together each day and so far they are super happy to do any ammount of work I ask of them. We have a mini-classroom economy going on this year, and I can't believe how good it's been so far for building a sense of classroom identity and ownership. Thank goodness for the computers--that allow for online banking--so the whole classroom money system can be 100 percent managed electronically.

My girls all seem to be happy in school this year. I'm especially glad I went with North Star for Oba. She seems to have a good enough teacher and some friends. She just met her reading buddy.

Summer Ends

My infant niece Lydia has unexpectedly pricked a maternal spot in my psyche. Blessed baby. Blessed baby. Delicate ears, probing eyes, quiet mouth.

My summer vaction will officially end Wednesday morning at 8:00 a.m. We have a Welcome Back/ Look at Our Awful Test Scores / Chart the Course for the Future meeting to which I plan to take half a dozen math problems, to fill the two-thirds of my brain space that gets manic in such meetings.

The best thing I discovered this summer was an efficient way to use kid lit blogs, the SLC library online catalog, and a weekly visit to the Day Riverside branch, to keep myself and my three kiddies equipped with plenty of fresh, interesting reading material. I hope this habbit doesn't fade with my amped up schedule, as full days of teaching shortly resume.

Regular Posting

I heard blogs were already on the way out--but I don't really believe it. I think they're probably just settling into a niche. I don't know if anyone reads my life chronicles here, but I've decided it's nice for readers if I post more regularly. So here's my commitment: one new posting a week will be my minimum. If I do have a readership, they can predictably count on fresh material once per week.

Summer hasn't been quite the intense reading fest that I envisioned back at the beginning of June. I've been very consistent about reading about an hour each day with Easter, but I haven't been as consistent about requiring reading time with Aninga and Oba. They're way into comic books, though, which is ironic if you know me. I have always encouraged my students to read comic books, and have told many of my students' parents that any and all types of reading are good for improving reading skills. But now that it's my own kids, I wish they had wider reading interests. They both read and enjoyed Charlotte's Web at the first of the summer, but I didn't follow up with another assigned book. I was thinking of having them read Number the Stars as a final book for the summer, and we'd be learning a bit of history in the process. I'm also trying to find a new fantasy book or series, one that I haven't read and can really get into, that I can read out loud to all three of them. Suggestions?

As I've started thinking about school starting in three weeks, and as I've been surfing around the web for new books, science experiements, and math ideas, I've come to realize again, how much I love my job. It's really a great fit for someone with the wide range of academic strengths and interests that I possess. And of course there's the delightful dimension of buidling relationships with young folks.

I was in New York City for three days in July. It was a nice vacation, but man I really do love SLC. I love the mountains, the dry air, and the pace of the city. Traveling, particularly to big cities, is not one of my favorite things.

World Cup

The team I picked more than a month ago was finally eliminated today--Ecuador couldn't score a single shot against England. Oh well. They made quite a run and did much better than expected.

I completely adore the Impossible Team Adidas ad campaign with the two Latino boys playing in an empty lot. I'm hardly ever such a sucker for advertising campaings, but I might even go buy some Adidas now.

I'm working at two easy goals for the rest of the summer. Walk or do some sort of exercise for thirty minutes each day and read with Easter every day. Tis easy enough to write goals down, but much harder to follow through.

Adios.

Reading

Easter is now reading chapter books. Just kidding. Just a little joke. She can almost read chapter books.

Today Easter went to her friend Blanca's house. She had fun. She wants to ride the yellow bus every day now. No. She will not be allowed to ride that bus again, for a few weeks, at least.

Easter is going to Fargo and Canada and Disneyland and Kampala. She only needs some money.

Shakespeare

The sixth grade students had their final performance of Macbeth last night. The whole production was magnificent. Both casts were spectacular. It was so draining and stressful to be as deeply involved as I was this year. But also quite rewarding--to see those darlings shine so bright.

Here they are. Super darling, super stars. Good work everyone, including Jen and Mark and me and of course the kids!