I just returned from probably my favorite weekend of the year. It began with a date with my honey on Friday night. We went to see The Last Station at Reel Pizza in Bar Harbor. We ate a big pizza and shared a salad with delicious feta-garlic dressing. The movie was very good, and now I'm interested in learning more about Tolstoy and (gasp) possibly revisiting Anna Karenenia. It was a fun night. I was so happy to be off the island for a date for the first time in over a month!
But it was really Saturday morning that the fun began. Eliza and I dropped Jason off at the dock for the 7:30am boat and then we took off on our adventure. We drove down to Unity and waited impatiently in a diner until noon. Finally the hour rolled closer and we jumped in the car and drove over the hills to MOFGA (The Maine Organic Farmers and Gardener's Association) Seed Exchange and Scion Wood Swap! We parked in the lot and walked into the education building where lots of people were milling around long tables set up in the middle of the room. On the tables were bundles of scion wood from apple, pear, peach, and cherry trees, grape vines, and current and elder bushes. Scion wood is one-year-old whips of wood that is cut from the tips of branches. This wood is used to graft onto mature trees and young rootstock in order to clone fruit varieties. There were many varieties of apple scion wood to choose from, and we went slowly down the table, carefully choosing according to the fruits' qualities; How long does it store? Is it a good dessert fruit? How about making cider with it? In the end we came home with probably 20 varieties of apple, 3 varieties of pear and pieces of black currents and elder.
The black currents and elder sticks simply need to be stuck in the ground and they'll grow, but the other wood needs to be grafted onto mature trees or root stock. So, next we went upstairs to learn about the art of grafting. We basically learned two methods for grafting: whip and tongue and bark grafting. After the workshop we carefully packed our scion wood and newly purchased root stock into the trunk of the car and we headed off down the road toward Topsham and the Down East Folk Dance Festival!
After a delicious dinner at El Camino in Brunswick, we put on our dancing clothes and walked into the gym. We could hear the fiddle music playing from down the hall. We paid our admission, wiped our shoes off really well, and walked into the dance hall. What a sight! Hundreds of smiling faces. Skits twirling in the air. Bodies moving together in the form of the dance. We sat the first dance out and just watched, getting reacquainted with the calls: ladies chain across the set, hey for four, do-se-do your partner, balance and swing, in long lines go forward and back. The music energetically beat the 4/4 time of the tune. As the dance progressed, the music faded out and slowly began to build in volume and energy as the dancers worked together, moving back and forth, spinning around. The last eight counts of the dance moved forward and as the dancers approached the next round of song, the music built. The energy in the room welled up, and as the dancers moved towards the next set of partners, there was a hush. Everyone was waiting and sensing the static energy going through the whole set of dancers and connecting them with the music. Then just when the people's feet hit the first beat of the next round of movement, the band burst through the energy, loudly hammering out the tune. A roar went through the crowd, finally releasing. Pure joy! Eliza and I danced the rest of the night. Our feet ached. Our shoulders cried in pain from spinning and spinning. Our heads felt drunk although we didn't have a sip all day. It just filled me up!
I got home with my packages of grafting supplies and my whole body filled up from dancing the night before. I ran down to the woodworking shop and was met by the glorious sight of five new pieces cut for the house. And big pieces, too. While I was getting my contra-dance fill, Jason was working away all weekend, cutting purlins and joists. Now we're up to 27 braces, 2 principle posts, 3 common posts, and five joists and purlins. We're right on schedule for our goal of a late August frame raising. Hope springs!!!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Love
In general my sisters think I'm nuts. They come to expect me to think and say things differently from how they would think or say things. And I've come to expect them to react to me in that "she's crazy" kind of way. So it came as no surprise to me when my sister, Lianna, called me up over the weekend and reminded me just how crazy she thinks I am. A little more surprising was the reason why she was calling.
Several years ago, when I first moved to this island, I met Jason. We met right away, because you pretty much know everyone in town the moment you step off the boat. We started dating about five months after I moved here, and before long I was in love! My sisters know that I've always been on the lookout for love. They've watched me cry of a broken heart when I thought I had found something and it turned out to be fake. So when I found myself in love with Jason I didn't want to take any chances. I immediately had both of our astrological charts read. The chart reading predicted a match made in heaven. So, a year or so later, when I was ready for the next step, but didn't see it coming any time soon, I called upon my friend Jane to help me organize my life to welcome love. Right away she suggested rearranging the rooms in my apartment so that it was very obviously set up for two people: myself and my honey! I did. I moved my bed to the middle of a wall so that both sides were easily accessible and I put a nightstand and a lamp on each side. I took down all of my photos of single women and replaced them with pictures of couples or of groups of people. I went through my dishes and made sure I had at least two of everything. It may sound crazy, but before long Jason proposed. I'm living proof that this stuff really works!
So, fast forward a few years to this past Sunday morning. I picked up the phone and was greeted by this: "You're crazy, but I'm trying it anyways." My little sister. Almost 25 years old, totally beautiful, funny, a whole lot of fun, and incredibly successful. She's quite a package, so it stands to question, why is she single? Other than the fact that she's completely capable of taking total care of herself, thank you very much, and that most men her age are probably scared shitless when they are in her powerful presence, it's a good question, and one that I've often scratched my head over. At some point recently we were talking about this very question and I brought up the idea that she just hasn't made space for a partner in her life. Silence followed on the other end of the line, and I could tell that she was wondering whether or not to delve into the new age philosophy I was about to impart. "What do you mean?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to know. So I relayed the wisdom that was passed to me: make sure your physical space is ready to be shared with another person. Two nightstands, two lamps, two pillows, two of everything. She didn't listen. At least not right away. Instead, she said I was crazy.
There really is something to the idea of making space in your life for what it is that you want. I think of it as putting my dreams out into the universe and then beginning to live my life as if my wishes were already coming true. As long as I'm focused and have a clear idea of what my wish really is, it works. That's what we're doing right now with the house and our land. Years before we'll be able to move in, I'm working on the land. I'm envisioning just how the space around our house and radiating from the house will be used to grow vegetables, flowers, berries, fruits, and nuts and to raise animals. In my head it's taking shape, so in my practices I'm already working on it.
Once upon a time our property was farmed. There's evidence of this all over the place: old twisted apple trees, foundation stones buried under six inches of soil, rusty medal tools and hinges scattered throughout the garden spots. My dream is to farm it again. Over the last few years I've been building the soil in the big garden plots, and last year I learned how to prune apple trees. And then last summer I went and worked for a few days on a permaculture farm in Franklin, Maine, and I learned so much that my head was spinning (it still is). Now I have a new perspective on how to farm my land, and I'm obsessed! The very little I've learned about permaculture has turned my eyes towards the resources that are already on the property. Instead of cutting them down, the old cranky apple trees can be pruned and grafted on to in order to provide a full year of apples, apple sauce, apple cider and everything else apple. The overgrown blackberries growing on the edges of all of our forested spaces can be thinned and cut back, and then managed just twice a year. On the south side of the apple trees, and just underneath their canopies I can develop sheet-mulched beds full of asparagus and rhubarb. Growing up the trees I can plant hardy kiwi. Moving from the base of the tree and out into the full sun, deeply mulched beds will be filled with vegetables and flowers planted in guilds. My dreams are taking shape in my imagination and I'm taking the first steps to turning these dreams into reality.
It's a lot of work. Last weekend I spent hours up in the tippy-top of an apple tree, sawing branches and making tiny snips here and there. When the wind picked up and I began to feel nervous swaying in the branches, I went and helped Jason debark trees to prepare them for the sawmill. That was hard work. Three days later, I'm still sore all over! This is not glamorous work. I was wearing my dirty work clothes: ripped, grass-stained jeans over insulated underwear and a holey wool sweater. My hair was stuffed underneath a winter cap and my face and arms were covered with sweat and scratches. Nope. It's not easy and it's not beautiful, but I can't think of a time I've been happier. I can't imagine how I'd rather be spending my time (and trust me, I've thought about it a lot). It's real work and I'm working towards the dreams that are already real in my imagination.
The other night Jason and I watched the first three episodes of Mad Men. After the first episode Jason turned to me and said, "I am so uncomfortable. My jaw was clenched through the whole show." I felt the same way, all tense and uneasy. Other than the oppressive way in which women were treated in the 1950s, I found myself deeply disturbed by the unhappiness of the characters in the show. Don Draper is a highly successful Ad man working in New York City. He has a beautiful wife and two lovely children. A big tidy house, full of the best stuff. The third episode ends with his neighbor smiling, "We've got it all, huh?" Don Draper could do nothing but agree. He did have it all. Except happiness. Except love.
This is what I want to avoid. I don't want to get to my fifties and realize that I have everything that I thought I wanted, but none of the things that truly fill me with love and happiness. I'm trying to really pay attention to what it is that brings me joy and what I just can't live without. And I'm truly enjoying the processes that are taking me to the life that I know I will love living. I have a clear imagination of that life, and I'm filled with joy to be making the space in my life right now for that imagination to unfold in reality.
Lianna called again on Sunday to report that she found a very cute nightstand. She still thinks I'm a bit crazy, but that will probably never change! Now her hard work begins, but I bet she will love every bit of it!
Several years ago, when I first moved to this island, I met Jason. We met right away, because you pretty much know everyone in town the moment you step off the boat. We started dating about five months after I moved here, and before long I was in love! My sisters know that I've always been on the lookout for love. They've watched me cry of a broken heart when I thought I had found something and it turned out to be fake. So when I found myself in love with Jason I didn't want to take any chances. I immediately had both of our astrological charts read. The chart reading predicted a match made in heaven. So, a year or so later, when I was ready for the next step, but didn't see it coming any time soon, I called upon my friend Jane to help me organize my life to welcome love. Right away she suggested rearranging the rooms in my apartment so that it was very obviously set up for two people: myself and my honey! I did. I moved my bed to the middle of a wall so that both sides were easily accessible and I put a nightstand and a lamp on each side. I took down all of my photos of single women and replaced them with pictures of couples or of groups of people. I went through my dishes and made sure I had at least two of everything. It may sound crazy, but before long Jason proposed. I'm living proof that this stuff really works!
So, fast forward a few years to this past Sunday morning. I picked up the phone and was greeted by this: "You're crazy, but I'm trying it anyways." My little sister. Almost 25 years old, totally beautiful, funny, a whole lot of fun, and incredibly successful. She's quite a package, so it stands to question, why is she single? Other than the fact that she's completely capable of taking total care of herself, thank you very much, and that most men her age are probably scared shitless when they are in her powerful presence, it's a good question, and one that I've often scratched my head over. At some point recently we were talking about this very question and I brought up the idea that she just hasn't made space for a partner in her life. Silence followed on the other end of the line, and I could tell that she was wondering whether or not to delve into the new age philosophy I was about to impart. "What do you mean?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to know. So I relayed the wisdom that was passed to me: make sure your physical space is ready to be shared with another person. Two nightstands, two lamps, two pillows, two of everything. She didn't listen. At least not right away. Instead, she said I was crazy.
There really is something to the idea of making space in your life for what it is that you want. I think of it as putting my dreams out into the universe and then beginning to live my life as if my wishes were already coming true. As long as I'm focused and have a clear idea of what my wish really is, it works. That's what we're doing right now with the house and our land. Years before we'll be able to move in, I'm working on the land. I'm envisioning just how the space around our house and radiating from the house will be used to grow vegetables, flowers, berries, fruits, and nuts and to raise animals. In my head it's taking shape, so in my practices I'm already working on it.
Once upon a time our property was farmed. There's evidence of this all over the place: old twisted apple trees, foundation stones buried under six inches of soil, rusty medal tools and hinges scattered throughout the garden spots. My dream is to farm it again. Over the last few years I've been building the soil in the big garden plots, and last year I learned how to prune apple trees. And then last summer I went and worked for a few days on a permaculture farm in Franklin, Maine, and I learned so much that my head was spinning (it still is). Now I have a new perspective on how to farm my land, and I'm obsessed! The very little I've learned about permaculture has turned my eyes towards the resources that are already on the property. Instead of cutting them down, the old cranky apple trees can be pruned and grafted on to in order to provide a full year of apples, apple sauce, apple cider and everything else apple. The overgrown blackberries growing on the edges of all of our forested spaces can be thinned and cut back, and then managed just twice a year. On the south side of the apple trees, and just underneath their canopies I can develop sheet-mulched beds full of asparagus and rhubarb. Growing up the trees I can plant hardy kiwi. Moving from the base of the tree and out into the full sun, deeply mulched beds will be filled with vegetables and flowers planted in guilds. My dreams are taking shape in my imagination and I'm taking the first steps to turning these dreams into reality.
It's a lot of work. Last weekend I spent hours up in the tippy-top of an apple tree, sawing branches and making tiny snips here and there. When the wind picked up and I began to feel nervous swaying in the branches, I went and helped Jason debark trees to prepare them for the sawmill. That was hard work. Three days later, I'm still sore all over! This is not glamorous work. I was wearing my dirty work clothes: ripped, grass-stained jeans over insulated underwear and a holey wool sweater. My hair was stuffed underneath a winter cap and my face and arms were covered with sweat and scratches. Nope. It's not easy and it's not beautiful, but I can't think of a time I've been happier. I can't imagine how I'd rather be spending my time (and trust me, I've thought about it a lot). It's real work and I'm working towards the dreams that are already real in my imagination.
The other night Jason and I watched the first three episodes of Mad Men. After the first episode Jason turned to me and said, "I am so uncomfortable. My jaw was clenched through the whole show." I felt the same way, all tense and uneasy. Other than the oppressive way in which women were treated in the 1950s, I found myself deeply disturbed by the unhappiness of the characters in the show. Don Draper is a highly successful Ad man working in New York City. He has a beautiful wife and two lovely children. A big tidy house, full of the best stuff. The third episode ends with his neighbor smiling, "We've got it all, huh?" Don Draper could do nothing but agree. He did have it all. Except happiness. Except love.
This is what I want to avoid. I don't want to get to my fifties and realize that I have everything that I thought I wanted, but none of the things that truly fill me with love and happiness. I'm trying to really pay attention to what it is that brings me joy and what I just can't live without. And I'm truly enjoying the processes that are taking me to the life that I know I will love living. I have a clear imagination of that life, and I'm filled with joy to be making the space in my life right now for that imagination to unfold in reality.
Lianna called again on Sunday to report that she found a very cute nightstand. She still thinks I'm a bit crazy, but that will probably never change! Now her hard work begins, but I bet she will love every bit of it!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Cold Frame Magic!
On February 19, when I planted my cold frames with lettuces, carrots, radishes, kale, arugula, onions, parsley, and spinach, I wondered if I was pushing the growing season just a little too far. Would the seeds just rot in the damp, cold late winter? I decided to do it anyways. It's worth sacrificing a handful of seeds for the experiment, right?
Well, on Friday, March 5 I walked my middle school students over to the greenhouse and cold frames. Outside it was probably close to 50 degrees and the sun was high and bright above us. We walked into the greenhouse and we were greeted with warm air and that earthly soil smell of spring. Considering we're studying electromagnetic energy in Science, I figured this would be a perfect activity for the kids: To experience the power of solar energy and try to understand how solar energy can be used to heat a space without the use of electricity or any other form of energy or expensive equipment. Upon walking into the greenhouse the kids were pretty surprised to feel how much warmer the air was compared to the air outside. "Why?" I asked them. It wasn't long before they had it all figured out. Having made the connection between how electromagnetic energy travels and the heat in the greenhouse, we got down on our hands and knees and peeked inside the cold frames. There the thermometer read 87 degrees! We put our faces near the frames and we could feel that warm air oozing out and we could smell the soil and the plants. Ahhhh, summer air!
When I opened my eyes , I peered into the garden bed underneath the cold frame, and there, to my utter delight were the first tiny sprouts of the onions planted back in February! I shrieked and my students jumped. They looked at each other and made that classic middle school "she's nuts" expression. I didn't care. I was so thrilled to see those first signs of new life after the winter! I hustled over to the other cold frame and pulled back the plastic. Warm, damp air rushed out to greet me and sure enough there were thousands of little tiny leaves poking their way through the soil. The experiment worked. The crop of spinach planted in early October of last year was dark green and ready to be picked and eaten for the second time, and the first crop of 2010 was up! Hooray! Now there's no doubt--spring is on it's way!
Bordeaux spinach planted in October of 2009 and ready to eat today!
Little tiny onion sprouts
My students stood back and watched me as I crawled on the ground examining each of the little plants that had sprouted. It took me a while, but finally I remembered why we were in the greenhouse to begin with. Science class. Right. I stood up and brushed the soil from my knees and brought the conversation back to solar energy. How could a person design a new house to take full advantage of that sun? We talked for a few moments about positioning the windows in a house so that they face the sun, allowing all of that energy to enter into the home and heat it up. This of course, is really free heat. "Is that how you're going to build your house?" one of the students asked me. You bet.
The majority of the windows in our new house will face southwest and those windows will envelope our living spaces--the dining room and living room. I can imagine myself laying back on the couch, sunbathing in January, all toasty warm in our little timber frame. On top of having southwest facing windows, we're using wood chip/clay infill for insulation, which will create foot-thick walls that will absorb the heat from the sun and release it after the sun sets at night, radiating heat all around us! Will we even need to use the wood stove? Probably , but not too much, which means less wood to cut, split, stack and carry in. Sounds good to me!
In my imagination our house is already built. I can already picture that sunny, bright space. Sometimes I will get carried away with my daydreams and I will believe that the house will be there when I go by next time. Someday it will be there. For now we're working away, one piece at a time. Jason finished cutting two principle posts and two common posts this weekend, and then he sanded and oiled the principle posts. I came in later on Sunday and sanded the two common posts. Right now he's out in the shop cutting more and more. Bit by bit we're getting there! I can't wait!
Well, on Friday, March 5 I walked my middle school students over to the greenhouse and cold frames. Outside it was probably close to 50 degrees and the sun was high and bright above us. We walked into the greenhouse and we were greeted with warm air and that earthly soil smell of spring. Considering we're studying electromagnetic energy in Science, I figured this would be a perfect activity for the kids: To experience the power of solar energy and try to understand how solar energy can be used to heat a space without the use of electricity or any other form of energy or expensive equipment. Upon walking into the greenhouse the kids were pretty surprised to feel how much warmer the air was compared to the air outside. "Why?" I asked them. It wasn't long before they had it all figured out. Having made the connection between how electromagnetic energy travels and the heat in the greenhouse, we got down on our hands and knees and peeked inside the cold frames. There the thermometer read 87 degrees! We put our faces near the frames and we could feel that warm air oozing out and we could smell the soil and the plants. Ahhhh, summer air!
When I opened my eyes , I peered into the garden bed underneath the cold frame, and there, to my utter delight were the first tiny sprouts of the onions planted back in February! I shrieked and my students jumped. They looked at each other and made that classic middle school "she's nuts" expression. I didn't care. I was so thrilled to see those first signs of new life after the winter! I hustled over to the other cold frame and pulled back the plastic. Warm, damp air rushed out to greet me and sure enough there were thousands of little tiny leaves poking their way through the soil. The experiment worked. The crop of spinach planted in early October of last year was dark green and ready to be picked and eaten for the second time, and the first crop of 2010 was up! Hooray! Now there's no doubt--spring is on it's way!
Bordeaux spinach planted in October of 2009 and ready to eat today!
Little tiny onion sproutsMy students stood back and watched me as I crawled on the ground examining each of the little plants that had sprouted. It took me a while, but finally I remembered why we were in the greenhouse to begin with. Science class. Right. I stood up and brushed the soil from my knees and brought the conversation back to solar energy. How could a person design a new house to take full advantage of that sun? We talked for a few moments about positioning the windows in a house so that they face the sun, allowing all of that energy to enter into the home and heat it up. This of course, is really free heat. "Is that how you're going to build your house?" one of the students asked me. You bet.
The majority of the windows in our new house will face southwest and those windows will envelope our living spaces--the dining room and living room. I can imagine myself laying back on the couch, sunbathing in January, all toasty warm in our little timber frame. On top of having southwest facing windows, we're using wood chip/clay infill for insulation, which will create foot-thick walls that will absorb the heat from the sun and release it after the sun sets at night, radiating heat all around us! Will we even need to use the wood stove? Probably , but not too much, which means less wood to cut, split, stack and carry in. Sounds good to me!
In my imagination our house is already built. I can already picture that sunny, bright space. Sometimes I will get carried away with my daydreams and I will believe that the house will be there when I go by next time. Someday it will be there. For now we're working away, one piece at a time. Jason finished cutting two principle posts and two common posts this weekend, and then he sanded and oiled the principle posts. I came in later on Sunday and sanded the two common posts. Right now he's out in the shop cutting more and more. Bit by bit we're getting there! I can't wait!
Town Meeting
The other night I was swimming. The water was salty and warm, and people were all around me. In the midst of the faces was the snout of an alligator floating, smacking its lips. I knew he was after me. I tried to swim away, but he grabbed my foot. I tried to wiggle out of my rubber boots, but I knew he would get me. And then I woke up.
Anxiety, right? What's the cause? Town Meeting. The great New England democratic process of deciding on the budget items for the town for the following year. On the warrant for this year's meeting: Whether or not to keep two teachers for the 2010-2011 school year. Having just eight students in grades K-8, I knew it would be an item that people would debate. Why do we need two teachers for just eight kids anyway?
My first year teaching here I was the only teacher for eight students. I had the support of a full time Ed. Tech, but I was the only teacher. That year I had students in grades 1, 3, 6, 7 and 8. I could fill up pages describing to you the stress, tears, frustrations, anxieties, struggles and joys from that year, but I will only say that I do not want to go back there again! So you can imagine my fear going into Town Meeting knowing that the debate on that warrant item would decide if I had a colleague to work with during next year or not. I decided I needed to speak about my opinion. I put together a speech. Basically I had one argument: The quality of the programs we offer at the school is at stake.
Currently we have two teachers teaching the K-8 range. With two teachers we are able to create an excellent young elementary program that looks, feels, and sounds like a young elementary program. The kindergarten group is practicing writing their letters, they're using pattern blocks and unifex cubes to learn basic math concepts, they're beginning to read little books, they're drawing pictures to go with stories they're creating and they have time during the day to play, make noise, dance, and sing. While they are busy developing a solid foundation, the second grade group is reading with each other or to the kindergarteners, practicing their reading fluency and their comprehension skills. They're learning spelling patterns and putting their language skills to work writing stories and illustrating their final drafts. During Math they are working on skip counting, finding patterns in the 100 chart, playing with symmetry, manipulating shapes with the same area to prove they take up the same amount of space, and practicing how to add and subtract two digit numbers.
In the classroom next door the middle school program looks, feels and sounds like a solid middle school program. Students are reading young-adult literature, analyzing theme and the author's use of literary devices. They're comparing characters and discussing character development. They're developing their writing skills, learning to write persuasive essays in response to literature and practicing creative techniques in their personal narratives and imaginary stories. In Science students are involved in inquiry. They're asking questions, developing hypotheses, testing their ideas with experiments and considering their results. They're building models to better understand complex concepts. In Social Studies they're engaged while they work together to develop projects that ultimately lead to community outreach. These projects often involve students' questions, research, discussion, creative and analytical writing, art, community service and public speaking. In Math the oldest students are learning pre-algebra skills, while the younger middle schoolers are working with fractions, probability, geometry, decimals, and more advanced calculations. To round out all of these activities, the students are using their laptops to connect with students on other islands. They're using programs like NoteShare and Skype to share and get feedback on their work, and they're making social connections to other middle schoolers, easing the social isolation they experience daily.
Now, can you imagine if these two distinctly different programs needed to happen at the same time, in the same classroom, with the same teacher running it all? The teacher would do the best she could, but I can tell you both programs would suffer and so would the students. And the teacher would suffer, too! Right now there are two of us to brainstorm solutions to dilemmas and to develop curriculum. Every day we meet to bounce ideas off of each other and to express our frustrations. It's during these daily informal meetings that I get the professional support that I need to continue to develop my teaching practices and to improve my classroom. Without another teacher here, I would struggle by myself.
Walking over to the Neighborhood House for the meeting, I was prepared, but very nervous. Sometimes these meetings get quite personal, and I had no idea what to expect from the debate that was sure to unfold. And ultimately this meeting would decide if I would be teaching by myself again next year. My stomach was a mess. Finally the meeting began and I sat there chewing my pen and listening as we went through item after item on the warrant. Finally article 17 arrived, the article dealing with all things school. I got my notes out of my bag and sat up straight, ready to defend the need for two teachers. But I didn't even need to open my mouth. With the first sounds of opposition, person after person in the community stood up and spoke about why we need to continue to support two teachers. Some of the people who spoke currently have children in the school and others spoke about their child's past experience at our school. Others stood up and spoke about the ways in which the school interacts with the community. And others stood up and spoke about the investment we make in the future of our community when we support our school to the fullest extent. I wish I could remember the exact words that people said, because they moved me to the brink of tears. The middle schoolers who attended the meeting with me were beaming as they heard the pride in the voices of their community. In the end there wasn't a second word of opposition to having two teachers. We voted 51 to 1 to keep us both.
What a statement. All around the country towns are slashing their school budgets, but here on this tiny island we agreed that the investment we make in our children is more important than the savings we could gain from cutting our staff. Way to go, little island.
Anxiety, right? What's the cause? Town Meeting. The great New England democratic process of deciding on the budget items for the town for the following year. On the warrant for this year's meeting: Whether or not to keep two teachers for the 2010-2011 school year. Having just eight students in grades K-8, I knew it would be an item that people would debate. Why do we need two teachers for just eight kids anyway?
My first year teaching here I was the only teacher for eight students. I had the support of a full time Ed. Tech, but I was the only teacher. That year I had students in grades 1, 3, 6, 7 and 8. I could fill up pages describing to you the stress, tears, frustrations, anxieties, struggles and joys from that year, but I will only say that I do not want to go back there again! So you can imagine my fear going into Town Meeting knowing that the debate on that warrant item would decide if I had a colleague to work with during next year or not. I decided I needed to speak about my opinion. I put together a speech. Basically I had one argument: The quality of the programs we offer at the school is at stake.
Currently we have two teachers teaching the K-8 range. With two teachers we are able to create an excellent young elementary program that looks, feels, and sounds like a young elementary program. The kindergarten group is practicing writing their letters, they're using pattern blocks and unifex cubes to learn basic math concepts, they're beginning to read little books, they're drawing pictures to go with stories they're creating and they have time during the day to play, make noise, dance, and sing. While they are busy developing a solid foundation, the second grade group is reading with each other or to the kindergarteners, practicing their reading fluency and their comprehension skills. They're learning spelling patterns and putting their language skills to work writing stories and illustrating their final drafts. During Math they are working on skip counting, finding patterns in the 100 chart, playing with symmetry, manipulating shapes with the same area to prove they take up the same amount of space, and practicing how to add and subtract two digit numbers.
In the classroom next door the middle school program looks, feels and sounds like a solid middle school program. Students are reading young-adult literature, analyzing theme and the author's use of literary devices. They're comparing characters and discussing character development. They're developing their writing skills, learning to write persuasive essays in response to literature and practicing creative techniques in their personal narratives and imaginary stories. In Science students are involved in inquiry. They're asking questions, developing hypotheses, testing their ideas with experiments and considering their results. They're building models to better understand complex concepts. In Social Studies they're engaged while they work together to develop projects that ultimately lead to community outreach. These projects often involve students' questions, research, discussion, creative and analytical writing, art, community service and public speaking. In Math the oldest students are learning pre-algebra skills, while the younger middle schoolers are working with fractions, probability, geometry, decimals, and more advanced calculations. To round out all of these activities, the students are using their laptops to connect with students on other islands. They're using programs like NoteShare and Skype to share and get feedback on their work, and they're making social connections to other middle schoolers, easing the social isolation they experience daily.
Now, can you imagine if these two distinctly different programs needed to happen at the same time, in the same classroom, with the same teacher running it all? The teacher would do the best she could, but I can tell you both programs would suffer and so would the students. And the teacher would suffer, too! Right now there are two of us to brainstorm solutions to dilemmas and to develop curriculum. Every day we meet to bounce ideas off of each other and to express our frustrations. It's during these daily informal meetings that I get the professional support that I need to continue to develop my teaching practices and to improve my classroom. Without another teacher here, I would struggle by myself.
Walking over to the Neighborhood House for the meeting, I was prepared, but very nervous. Sometimes these meetings get quite personal, and I had no idea what to expect from the debate that was sure to unfold. And ultimately this meeting would decide if I would be teaching by myself again next year. My stomach was a mess. Finally the meeting began and I sat there chewing my pen and listening as we went through item after item on the warrant. Finally article 17 arrived, the article dealing with all things school. I got my notes out of my bag and sat up straight, ready to defend the need for two teachers. But I didn't even need to open my mouth. With the first sounds of opposition, person after person in the community stood up and spoke about why we need to continue to support two teachers. Some of the people who spoke currently have children in the school and others spoke about their child's past experience at our school. Others stood up and spoke about the ways in which the school interacts with the community. And others stood up and spoke about the investment we make in the future of our community when we support our school to the fullest extent. I wish I could remember the exact words that people said, because they moved me to the brink of tears. The middle schoolers who attended the meeting with me were beaming as they heard the pride in the voices of their community. In the end there wasn't a second word of opposition to having two teachers. We voted 51 to 1 to keep us both.
What a statement. All around the country towns are slashing their school budgets, but here on this tiny island we agreed that the investment we make in our children is more important than the savings we could gain from cutting our staff. Way to go, little island.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Spring?
I know, I know. It's not spring yet. Even though the snow is pretty much gone for now, and we've had temperatures above freezing for a couple of weeks now, I know that winter will come back to greet us at least one more time. But there are signs! Really, there are!
Sign one: Over the last two weeks, our chickens have gone from laying a total of between five and seven eggs a week to, all of a sudden, over a dozen eggs in a week! Yesterday alone we had three eggs in the coop, although one of the eggs was laid on the floor. Why do they sometimes lay right on the floor? They've got beautiful nesting boxes filled with fluffy, clean straw, yet this morning I walked in and there was an egg, right in the middle of the floor. I picked it up and there was a hole pierced right through the shell from someone stepping on the little thing. Bummer. Maybe she was so surprised that she was laying an egg she forgot about the nesting boxes? Maybe the boxes were all in use? I have no idea why she did it, but I hope she doesn't make it a habit! Anyway, an increase in egg production is a sure sign that spring is on its way! Soon we'll have so many eggs coming in I'll have to find ways to use them up: angel food cake, custards, ice cream, Easter breads, anything to use up a bunch of eggs at once! If you ever wondered why the egg is a symbol of spring and rebirth, get a flock of chickens and you'll never wonder again.
Sing two: The spinach is growing! In October I planted about twenty little tiny spinach seedlings in my greenhouse. When fall turned to winter I covered the little plants with a second layer of coldframes, and I waited for the sun to come back. Last weekend I went out to check on the little plants, and I was so happy to see them growing and growing! I picked one little leaf from a plant for just a little taste of spring. So sweet! And green, and crunchy and oh so wonderful. Right then and there I ran back to the house, grabbed my seeds and started to plant my early spring crop of kale, winter bibb lettuce, mache, arugula, carrots and parsley. I also started a flat of onion seeds to be transplanted in the big garden in late April. I lightly watered all of the seeds, covered them all up and stuck a thermometer into the soil to monitor. A couple of days later I went back to check, and even though the temperature outside wasn't above 38 degrees, inside the coldframes it was a balmy 85! I had to crack open the frames to make sure the spinach didn't want to bolt in that heat!
The smell of that moist, warm soil and the sight of the eggs piling up in my fridge are such welcome treats in February, and promises of the spring that's just waiting for winter to finish up.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Pouring the Foundation
The day we poured the foundation was an exciting, nerve-racking day. School was back in session, and Donna and I decided that the arrival of two big cement trucks and a spider-like pumping truck on the island made for an interesting educational opportunity. We agreed to walk over to the house site with our eight students and watch the pouring together. I think Whit, five-years-old at that time, and I were both feeling the same amount of exhilaration at the thought of seeing those big trucks. I was feeling that way because we were pouring our foundation, Whit was feeling that way because he's a little boy, and what little boy doesn't just love really big trucks.
The days leading up to the foundation pouring were long and tiresome for Jason. He spent days hunched over in the hole laying out the Durisol blocks, leveling each one individually. Since the footing blew-out during the first pouring, he needed to level each individu
al block he put down, we're talking hundreds of blocks. While he was working on building up the foundation walls, after school during the evenings I filled the wheelbarow up with crushed stone, rolled it down in the hole, and shoveled the stone around the outside of the footing to create drainage. I don't know how many trips with the wheelbarrow I took, but I can tell you my back and arms felt numb. This was not my favorite part of the job, and it seemed to go on forever! But then the day came to pour the walls.
Jason worked out all the tiny details with the barge, the cement trucks and the pumping truck. The pumping truck and the first cement truck would be barged over first. When the first cement truck was empty it would meet the barge and ride off in time to pick up and barge over the second cement truck. When the second cement truck was empty, both the pumping truck and the cement truck would be barged off together. How many barge trips? Four all together. Yikes.
Around 11 in the morning, Donna and I walked the kids over to the house site. Whit and I couldn't contain our excitement: when we saw that huge pumping truck we ran, leaving the rest of the group behind! What a sight! The truck itself was huge, but it looked even bigger because these huge legs reached out from it in all directions for stabilization and then the pumping arm reached out from the nose of the truck all the way to the foundation walls. It looked like a huge spider crouching over the road, getting ready to pounce, it's pincer outstretched.
The cement truck backed up to pumping truck and began to pour the cement. The cement ran from the cement chute to the pumping truck, and then the pump kicked in. Over at the foundation, Jason and our wonderful friends Cory, Kaitlyn, Will, Iann, and Eric were all standing ready to begin their work. Jason held the long nozzle from the pumping truck and directed the cement into the cavities of the Durisol block. Will, Iann, Cory and Kaitlyn followed Jason around the foundation and punched into each block cavity with long poles to pop any air bubbles. Eric followed with his trowel, smoothing over the cement as it oozed up from the holes.
Whit and I were not disappointed that day! Whit got to see some really big trucks, and by the end of the afternoon Jason and I had a foundation! Yippee!
al block he put down, we're talking hundreds of blocks. While he was working on building up the foundation walls, after school during the evenings I filled the wheelbarow up with crushed stone, rolled it down in the hole, and shoveled the stone around the outside of the footing to create drainage. I don't know how many trips with the wheelbarrow I took, but I can tell you my back and arms felt numb. This was not my favorite part of the job, and it seemed to go on forever! But then the day came to pour the walls.Jason worked out all the tiny details with the barge, the cement trucks and the pumping truck. The pumping truck and the first cement truck would be barged over first. When the first cement truck was empty it would meet the barge and ride off in time to pick up and barge over the second cement truck. When the second cement truck was empty, both the pumping truck and the cement truck would be barged off together. How many barge trips? Four all together. Yikes.
Around 11 in the morning, Donna and I walked the kids over to the house site. Whit and I couldn't contain our excitement: when we saw that huge pumping truck we ran, leaving the rest of the group behind! What a sight! The truck itself was huge, but it looked even bigger because these huge legs reached out from it in all directions for stabilization and then the pumping arm reached out from the nose of the truck all the way to the foundation walls. It looked like a huge spider crouching over the road, getting ready to pounce, it's pincer outstretched.
The cement truck backed up to pumping truck and began to pour the cement. The cement ran from the cement chute to the pumping truck, and then the pump kicked in. Over at the foundation, Jason and our wonderful friends Cory, Kaitlyn, Will, Iann, and Eric were all standing ready to begin their work. Jason held the long nozzle from the pumping truck and directed the cement into the cavities of the Durisol block. Will, Iann, Cory and Kaitlyn followed Jason around the foundation and punched into each block cavity with long poles to pop any air bubbles. Eric followed with his trowel, smoothing over the cement as it oozed up from the holes.
Whit and I were not disappointed that day! Whit got to see some really big trucks, and by the end of the afternoon Jason and I had a foundation! Yippee!
Friday, February 19, 2010
Pouring the Footing
Over a year ago we began our house project. We spent the long winter nights working on the design with my sister, and the short cold days in the woods cutting down trees and hauling them to our property to be cut up when the sawmill arrived. The days went by, and when winter turned into spring and then into summer, our friend Roy offered to dig our foundation.
Jason and I spent hours analyzing our house site: Which direction exactly should we place the windows so we can gain the most passive solar energy? How close are we to the right-of-ways? What about my gardens--where will they go, will they have enough sun? After a lot of debating we settled on just where to place our house. We measured out the dimensions of the house and placed stakes at each corner, Jason calculating every angle twice. When those orange-flagged stakes were finally in the ground I remember running around the staked-out house, imagining just where my kitchen would be, just where the sun would stream through the windows into
our living room, just where I'd sit in front of the woodst
ove and warm my toes in the winter.
Roy began to dig in early June. It took him about a week to dig it completely with his backhoe.
After digging and digging and digging, Jason began to work on compacting the foundation floor and preparing the basement for the footing and foundation walls. We had an abnormally wet summer, and Jason worked in that wet hole for weeks, moving rocks and shoveling dirt to make things just right. At times we both felt like it was endless, we would never be ready to move out of the hole. One evening I sat on a dirt pile next to the hole, covered in mud, crying in the rain. At that point we had spent weeks trying to dry out the hole and get materials in place to make the ground stable. That evening it seemed like it would never stop raining and that we would never be finished prepping for the foundation. But somehow the sun finally came out, the hole began to dry out, and the time came to layout the footing materials. How we celebrated! We used Form-A-Drain for this portion of the project. It's a plastic form that acts as a mold for the footing and a permanent drain for the future basement. Inch by inch Jason laid out the Form-A-Drain, making sure it was level.
One day in the late summer, after carefully making sure the form was level and secure, Bill and Cory came over to help us pour the footing. The day began with waiting for the cement truck to arrive on the barge. Jason and I couldn't keep still. He must have walked around the footing a million times, checking his prep work. I chewed all of my nails off. Jason had explained to me a million times how important this piece of the foundation is. It's what will support the whole rest of the house. If we didn't get this right, the next stage would be that much harder and take that much more time. We were both imagining all of the terrible things that could happen. Maybe the form wouldn't be strong enough. Maybe it would burst and the cement would gush out. Maybe....
Finally the truck arrived and Jason led them up to the house site. Bill, Cory, Jason and I jumped down into the hole, and slowly the cement began to flow from the truck. We waited at the end of the trough for the stuff to roll down, shovels and rakes in hand, and quicker than we were ready, it began to pour into the footing. We hustled around, pushing and pulling the cement around the form. The day was hot. Our arms, legs and backs began to ache, but we continued to move around the form--we didn't really have a choice.
We made it almost halfway around the foundation when we had a blowout. This is what we had been afraid of happening. All of Jason's careful measuring and leveling were now ruined, and the cement was oozing from the busted section of the form, costing us time, energy and money with each glob. There was a moment when I just wanted to cry, and I think Jason would have, too, but we didn't have time. Jason ran to find some plywood to fix the blowout and Cory, Bill and I began to pull cement from the hole as quickly as we could. I felt so overwhelmed. The cement seemed even heavier, and I could not imagine how Jason would make this alright. As I continued to pull that thick stuff around the form, the guys worked away, too but I don't remember much except my thoughts and worry. Somehow the hole was plugged up and we were able to continue with the rest of the form. By the end of the afternoon we had a footing, for better or worse.
Thank goodness our friends were there to help us. Jason and I never would have been able to do this section by ourselves. Thank you so much to Bill and Cory for your help.
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