I’m not sure if I haven’t been paying attention over the last few years, but Autumn is way better than I ever remember. Are the leaves more brilliant than before? Has there always been sweet corn at Klein’s until the middle of October? Are there aways this many amazingly beautiful days? Something about this year finds me consistently asking my wife to grab the baby and come look at a tree that has turned bright red, or a, well, yeah basically just a nice looking tree. You know, though, even when it get’s freezing cold and the leaves turn right to brown and drop off over a weekend, I still love autumn. The frantic, sweaty, laziness of summer is gone, Halloween and Thanksgiving are snowily wonderful winter are lined right on up.
Despite my tree hugging love of fall, I can’t help but feel a little boring (when I was first in Japan, I was trying to explain that something was boring–though when I looked in the dictionary I chose the first definition of boring, which meant ‘making a hole’. You can imagine the looks on the faces of my colleagues as I mentioned that Gone in 60 Seconds created an actual hole through my body). No no, the boring I feel now is mostly related to being a teacher. The excitement of the year has worn down, the kids are getting tired of getting up at 5:30, and I am feeling that the last tendrils of summer have dried up and broken off leaving me in the middle of a routine surrounded by essays and state standards. This happens every year, and it’s not really bad, it just reminds me of habit. This year, though, I am really excited to be planning curriculum with a colleague. We have very similar ideas about education and what is good for our kids–so it’s wonderful working together.
This week, when we planned our surveys, I had a similar experience. I realized that, as a participant, closed surveys are great–I fill in some bubbles, check some boxes, make a short comment, and I’m merrily on my way. Making these surveys–not so much. They weren’t just routine or boring–there were no tendrils to be seen. Instead, they became like an English teacher’s nightmare: I was there–shackled to a chair while yes, no, agree, and disagree all beat me with empty boxes and check marks. Never again would I be able to ask why? or write “please explain” when discussing writing and reading. My brow was damp, my pulse was high; I was skittish, nervous, jumpy. Then, like deux ex machina in a young adult lit, I was pulled out of my terrifying alternative universe and told that these closed questions weren’t all that bad. I could use certain patterns in these questions to find out why certain students chose the answers they did. I could get more than just blank data, but data that could really help me make positive changes in my program. That was really great to find out.
This week, I also liked being paired with the same partner from last week. It’s nice to dedicate focus on one person’s work sometimes!
