They Couldn't Vote, but it Didn't Matter.

 

I voted.  The line wasn't bad, and I got a sticker, which appears to be a small victory given that many on social media are indicating that they were not as fortunate.  I really didn't realize that the sticker was all that big a deal, yet I suspect it will be a topic of conversation in my classroom tomorrow.  For despite the fact that today was the weekly meeting of the Debate Club, I believe there will be an impromptu meeting tomorrow for some Monday (or Wednesday) morning Quarterbacking after the results are finally announced.

While many adults may think that "these kids today don't care," I am here to tell you that they do.  I've heard more responsible arguments and analysis of this election from 14 - 18 year olds than I have from either candidate.  The kids in my room are bright and articulate, but more importantly, they show respect for the opinions of others, and truly care about the issues.  Their language use in no way reflects society today, nor do I need to have a 30 second delay and a bleep buzzer handy.  I know when the Debaters are in my room that the discussion will be lively, comprehensive, and informative.  The group is entirely student-led and driven.  (I view the idea of discussing my political beliefs with students the same way the state views the idea of my discussing my religious beliefs with them.)

I get to be the proverbial fly on the wall, knowing that no matter who wins this evening, I am happy in the assurance that these young people care about their country and their future.  And I have no doubt that their voices will be heard, even if most of them didn't even have the power of the vote this year.

Is there happiness on this election day?  You bet.   I can think of two excellent reasons:  #2, there will be no political commercials tomorrow, or for many days to come, and #1 -- the NUMBER ONE reason that I am happy, is the phenomenal promise I see in the political future that today called itself the Donegal Debate Club.

Old Mr. Sandman

I am in desperate need of a chronobiologist.  Admittedly, I didn't really even know that term until I started writing this piece, but I know now that an expert who can study the circadian rhythms of my own body -- as well as the 100 + students with whom I interact each day.  Such an individual could certainly help to explain why even though I KNOW I got an extra hour of sleep this past weekend, it hasn't done anything to improve my functionability on this fine Monday, not to mention the attitudes of the aforementioned students.

Data shows that teenagers require 8 - 10 hours of sleep a night.  Honestly, most of my students report bedtimes well after midnight, and these same individuals are in my classroom before 8 am, so the actual number of kids sleeping 8 - 10 hours are probably counting the hours they nap in classes during the school day.  

Certainly one of the major arguments I have heard AGAINST the idea of later school start times involves the early dismissals necessary for sports activities.  The later the school day begins, the more class time will be missed for games, matches, and competitions.  It seems odd that extracurriculars would drive something as critically important, but it certainly speaks to a potential contribution to the discussion.

Our district has a chunk of time in the beginning of the day known as Tribe Time.  Roughly a half hour to catch up with teachers, meet with others to work on projects, take that quiz that you missed last week, etc.  It also serves to push the academic "start" for the day to sometime near the magical recommended 8:30 am start time.

Here's the deal, though.  TODAY, 8:30 should have felt like 9:30 to these bodies in my world.  Aside from a few kids saying how nice it was to see sunlight on the way to the bus stop this morning, there were few who sang the praises of Monday with the enthusiasm of the soundtrack of Oklahoma.

So how can we, as educators, make an impression on the sleepless that sleep is important?  They all love it -- heck, even I love it.  Why do we choose to make sleep the one thing that we deny indulging in while living in a society of overconsumption?

Tomorrow I am going to celebrate sleep.  I'm going to ask kids to describe it, and I'm going to get them to consider how much happiness it provides.  We're going to look at why we don't have enough time to sleep, and see what has happened to the idea of happy, well-rested kids over the last century, as we've evolved to this permanent state of exhaustion that seems to exist.

Did I mention that we're working on Zeitgeist?  Literally translated, it's "Spirit of the Times."  Right now, I'm hoping that Old Mr. Sandman is the spirit that embodies the times.

 

Band Parents: the Unsung Heroes.

This isn't meant to sound redundant, so I apologize if you feel that you are reading yesterday's post again today.  Last evening was the 40th Anniversary of a tremendous accomplishment in the world of the Cavalcade of Bands.  The celebration was wonderful, and the magic was obviously evident.  Who would have imagined sitting in a world-class stadium on a crisp November evening with lifelong friends and bandmates, watching the video of the championship win on the jumbotron? 

The reunion was a tremendous success, thanks to the hard work of the planners.  Two of the three original directors were able to join us, and more than a few people commented on the way out of the four hour event that they had somehow forgotten to eat dinner, because they were busy catching up with old friends.

Some of the friends were much older.  Debbie Ewer's mom attended, wearing her Abington Band Parents jacket, and looking exactly as she did in 1976.  And the band parents of the current Abington band were kind enough to orchestrate the delivery of some of the trophies we won all those years ago, to complement the maroon and white balloons.

You see, bands are so much more than friends.  Bands are family.  

I was reminded again of this this morning, when I opened Facebook and saw that the annual ACC Pancakes were being made and delivered.  While I was a band parent, I engaged in a pancake challenge with Michele Bennett, as we both attempted to be the perfect motivational band moms by making Atlantic Coast Championship pancakes on the morning of the competition, to deliver them as breakfast in bed to our daughters.  This tradition officially became a tradition in 2011, when it happened for the second year in a row.  The following year was just a bit melancholy for me, as my bandmember had graduated and was living at college.

So that year Michele and I made ACC pancakes and delivered them to all of the newbie band members.  It's evident from Judy Barber's assembly line of ACC pancakes (photo above) that the tradition has lasted five years, and will continue, I hope. This morning, Michele presumably made her last batch of in-house pancakes, as her daughter is a senior.  Next year, she'll be in delivery only mode.  Because that's what band parents do.  Kids may graduate, but band parents are always band parents.

Kay Ewer proved that last evening as she dug her Band Parent jacket out of the closet and proudly wore the maroon and white one more time, supporting all of her band kids - even though many of them are grandparents now.

It takes a village to raise a championship band.

 

The Galloping Ghosts March On.

Picture it.  A crisp, November evening, 1976.  Our marching band had done a lot of marching that year; after all, it was the Bicentennial of the United States, and we lived just outside of Philadelphia.  We'd marched in Memorial Day parades, marched the trek from the high school to the stadium approximately a mile away for every home football game, participated in THE biggest 200th celebration of America's birth by marching in the Philadelphia Independence Day Parade -- in full wool uniforms, I might add.  We'd competed, valiantly, against the likes of our competitive archenemy, Plymouth Whitemarsh, and it was all culminating in the All-Conference Cavalcade of Bands Championship in Veteran's Stadium.

Astro-turf is nothing like the turf fields we know today.  If you've ever been on the back porch of someone with plastic grass carpet over cement, imagine dropping down into a one count kneel, with precision and authority.  I dare bet that I am not the only one who has had a knee replacement as a result of the repetitive nature of the drill of marching band and indoor guard competitions.  Marching in a professional football stadium is unlike anything we'd ever done, and being one of the largest bands, we competed in the last bracket, adding the large lights to the magic of the evening. 

And when the winners were announced that night, I'm pretty sure that the planning for our 40th Reunion of the State Champions began. Okay, so that may seem a bit premature, because we certainly went on to celebrate in our own ways, including the best darned end of season Band Banquet held in the school's history.

Veteran's Stadium is Gone...

Standing on the grounds of the site where we marched 40 years ago is Citizens Bank Park.  It is there that a group of more than 100 bandos will gather this evening.  Facebook has been abuzz with yellowed pictures, wool Varsity jackets with winning patches and letters, and lamentations over attendance.  We've buried a few friends in the last 40 years, and really haven't stayed in touch as a large group, yet the memories of a week away at Band Camp at Susquehanna University in 1976 is not a distant memory to any of us.  

We were assigned our roommates in alphabetical order, matching genders.  Joyce Denelsbeck and I were not really friends then, but we were roommates.  Marching Band is one of the biggest team-building extra curricular activities with magical properties.  Forty years later, we are very good friends, who have communicated more regularly in recent years than we did the entire week at Susquehanna.  Many of the band members are now sharing homes and children, as more than a few intermarried.  We've been in each others' weddings -- two of my closest friends even played their flutes as a prelude in mine -- and we've hugged each other standing graveside as we buried one of our own.

Extracurricular activities are viewed by colleges as something of great importance on applications. It isn't possible for a freshman in high school to fully comprehend the power of what happens after 3 pm on any given school day, and the long-term, life-long connections and relationships that are forged.  

Tonight, as we toast our accomplishment of 40 years ago, as well as the accomplishments of the reunion planners who have pulled together this amazing party,  there are bands polishing their white bucks and Dinkles, in preparation for their own championships through Cavalcade of Bands and Tournament of Bands competitions.

I pray that they clear their calendars for November, 2056.  They're not going to want to be anywhere else. 

Not the Fajita Inhibitor.

After a long week at work, I opted to go super-easy and make chicken fajitas.  A lack of cheddar necessitated a string of text messages with Kristin this evening....

Are you home for dinner?

At 6

fajitas.
Is there a place on the way that sells cheddar cheese?  Ours is gone??  Did you move it somewhere I can't find?

Yes I live to sabotage the cheese in our house
Shredded or regular?

You are a sick and twisted fajita-inhibitor.
Shredded.

I headed off to the store for some shredded cheddar, and by the time dinner was ready, Ben and Bailey had joined us for an impromptu dinner.  What did we do before cellphone technology?  My husband will disagree, as he is just fine leaving his at home, or turned off, yet I use mine constantly.  And mostly for things other than communication.   My phone is a constant camera, a tool for Skype or Messenger (yes, I realize that is communicating....,, but yesterday I used it to call Chloe in England to help Bella with her NHD research...).  It's a calendar, it's a great extra whiteboard.  If a class is brilliant in its use of a whiteboard, I take a picture, and project that picture during the next class to remind them of where they were in the past.  

The happiest thing about cellphones for the next four days is that neither Donald Trump nor Hillary Clinton have called me on mine.  The same can not be said for my house phone.  I am happy to have a cellphone, and even happier to have caller id on the house phone.  

Most of all, I am happy that I have a family that will come together for a quick fajita dinner, and a lot of laughs.

Happy Weekend!

Defining Happiness.

Once we all learned to pronounce SCHOOLOGY the way it was intended, (as opposed to School OLOGY), people seemed to settle in and appreciate the new technology.   Schoology is, as I explain it to parents, sort of like Facebook for school.  Teachers have the capability to assign and collect assignments electronically, and grade them within the program.  Quizzes and tests can be designed and scheduled to be released, with multiple variations of the same test to accommodate the differentiation needs of learners.  Calendars exist, with assignment dates running in the right-hand margin to make sure a full accounting of pending homework can be seen by students, teachers, and parents who are brave enough to sign up for their own accounts.

Clubs and groups within the school post updates and links, principals post agendas for faculty meetings, and students and teachers can send private "email" messages to each other through the platform.  This is the second year for Schoology as an active, all inclusive tool, and it is finally being embraced by everyone.  This year, no one dares to say "I don't ever LOOK at Schoology," as an excuse for missing a meeting or an assignment.  It's a paper-saver, a time-saver, and a nice introduction to 21st century learning.

Being the Tech Savvy individual that I am (NOT!), I am challenging myself to explore new options in lessons.  Last week I posted a "Discussion," asking students to take all of their current knowledge about Happiness, and actually write and share their own definition.   The Discussion feature allowed students in all three classes to read and respond to the definition of classmates, and aside from some rambunctious flamingos, most contributed mightily to the discussion, in an articulate and respectful manner that permitted everyone to be heard.  

I am amazed, delighted, and very proud of their efforts.

The current assignment is to assimilate all of that reading into a revised definition of happiness and defend the reason for the change.  Here are three samples:

Old Definition-Happiness is a feeling that comes from giving to others, finding yourself, and finding a purpose in life.

New Definition-Happiness is feeling content with how you are living, but also having a purpose to works towards.  Happiness is also finding virtues that are most important to you, and living by these ideas.  It can also be influenced by your environment, but happiness from an external influence, such as an item, is usually temporary, as this item could be destroyed. When the sense of satisfaction comes from within or from a decision you made, the feeling tends to last longer. 

After our discussion yesterday, I realized that happiness is limited when you rely on material things to make you happy.  You are happier when you find a purpose or something to work towards, because this gives you a sense of satisfaction.  For example, people who volunteer are generally happier, because they made the choice to help, and it made them feel good.  The volunteerism could also go along with living by virtues that you believe in.  Ultimately, you are happy when you believe that what you are doing is the best thing for you, so I wanted to incorporate that into my definition.

 ****

Old definition: 
A state of contentment and bliss 

 

New Definition: A state of contentment and bliss derived from one's experience and circumstance

I believe that in my definition, God has a large part in my happiness. I believe that realizing the beauty in the world that he has given us, along with gratitude for what he has given us allows us to be content, which is part of my definition of happiness. However, I do not think that God is a part of everyone's happiness. For those that do not believe in God, or follow a religion, i think they derive their happiness from other things. I think that their definition involves contentment and bliss in what they are experiencing, similar to my personal definition, but attribute those experiences to circumstance and not a higher deity.

 ****

Original: Happiness is a word defined differently by everyone. To me happiness is an overall feeling of fulfillment. In my eyes people are only truly happy when there is no weight on their shoulders, and no worries in their mind. However sometimes little things in life can bring small "spurts" of happiness or enjoyment.
Revised: Happiness is different in everyone's eyes. A word containing many subcategories such as joy, elation, and laughter, happiness can not be defined by one person. Therefore I am happy when I feel there is nothing for me to worry about, and I am happy when little things happen that bring a smile to my face. In MY opinion happiness is rather spontaneous and shows up at times you don't expect it, and generally makes your life a bit more interesting.
Throughout this lesson in class, and by reading these fellow classmates responses I have found out that our happiness is something we hold very close to our hearts. The fiery discussions are the effect of each persons happiness being defined, and being that we all view it differently, as rather intelligent students we defend our happiness. Therefore I reworded my original response because it needed to be emphasized that what I believe to be happiness can be the exact same, or the polar opposite of what you believe. Happiness does not have a definition because it is more than just a word.

So here's the reality:  Online discussion, in the case of this assignment, has been a powerful tool for all of us.  We're finding our way, communicating and respecting each other.  The coolest thing for me is that the three classes' responses are co-mingled, so there are discussions happening in the library, cafeteria, and Commons, as the discussion continues.

Take the challenge yourself, and share it in the comments.  Discussing happiness, even with some different opinions, will bring joy to you as you share understanding with others.

Clearly, such enthusiasm, deep thinking, and engagement makes this teacher very, very, HAPPY!  

 

(Not) Just Another Dent in the Wall.

As mentioned earlier this week, we're undergoing a bit of a shakeup in the living space in our house.  The dining room furniture is officially sold, and will depart as soon as its new home is painted and ready for its arrival in a week or so.  Once it is gone, painting can happen in our space, without the need to climb over or cover the furniture, and then the installation of our new (to us) stuff can commence.

 As we were eating dinner this evening, Bruce pointed out that we need to make sure that the painter, whomever it is -- as we are considering hiring a professional -- makes NO changes to the dent pictured behind the ark in the picture.   

Despite what others may think, the very existence of that dent brings happiness to our family.

Yes, you heard me correctly.  One of my greatest sources of happiness is a dent in my living room wall.  It represents me as a person, me as a mother, and Bruce and I as parents.  And without waxing philosophical, it also serves as a reminder of one of the most classic US moments living as a family in this house. 

Happiness is picking your battles...

When I was a kid, there was a common theme on sitcoms that demonstrated what I can only refer to as the "wrath of mom."  (Sometimes seen in the "wrath of dad," but you get the idea.)  Peter Brady broke Carol's favorite vase, and the classic line, "Mom always says 'Don't play ball in the house,'" became an instant motto for many families of my childhood friends.  Somewhere along the line, fathers became the heavy, and kids on TV were warned, "Wait until your father gets home!"  Twenty years later, TV showed goofy fathers in all kinds of mischief conspiring with their kids to hide whatever indiscretion had happened that day from the mother of the house.

For me, and for Bruce, we've just laughed and let those things create memories that have continued to serve us well in the department of promoting happiness in our lives.

• The time one brother pushed the other brother down the steps in a large brown box.  Only trouble?  No adults were home, the box caught a corner, and rolled, shaking the contents of the box pretty significantly.
• The time that the little sister confiscated the videogames from her brother and hid them -- because they were swearing at each other and keeping her awake.  The brothers pointed fingers at each other, swearing that the other had obviously done something to tick off a parent.  Neither wanted to ask the parents, so they fought, incessantly, in their room until the confiscator returned the games, told them to stop swearing, and went back to sleep.
• The time one jumped off the porch roof into a snowbank, or licked the street sign pole at the bus stop on a freezing day, or held a 9 volt battery to his tongue to break some sort of record.

I'm sure there are dozens of stories that you have in your life, and many more that I have chosen not to share.  Sometimes rolling with the punches, the world becomes a happier place.  I figure, these very individuals will be choosing my nursing home at some point, and I hope that they'll like me enough, and remember the good times, to find a nice place with a view and cable television.

Oh, and the dent?  It was an ice cube battle.  To be fair, I started it.  Fortunately for me, Ben ended it with a wicked overhand throw that was powerful enough to make me smile for many more decades with the imprint that it left in the wall.