Light and Momentary

Heading to the DMV

Usually, "heading to the DMV" is not a phrase that makes the heart leap. But! Hurray! I'm heading to the DMV! Today I have a tiny lull: I'm giving an exam tomorrow, so no lecture prep. My other class is finishing up a written assignment today, so I'm about to descend into grading purgatory again. Right now, though, the sun is shining and I have to renew my vehicle registration. I'm taking a pretty lace scarf in progress with me, and I will sit by a window while I enjoy the wait and the sunshine.

Apples Aren't Enough

When I picked Petely up at school today he had an apple in his hand. The principal gave it to him, he said, because it was Walk To School Day.

It seems like a reasonable idea: encourage kids to be active and independent, encourage parents to cut their consumption of fossil fuels and reduce traffic around schools. But I am thinking about all the factors that prevent kids from walking to schools, and an apple is looking like a pretty lousy incentive.

In the past couple of weeks I've been driving waaaaay out on the edge of town,where I bumped into the district's newest schools. I knew their names but not their locations, and I was surprised (and disappointed) to see that they are in completely unwalkable locations. One of them is surrounded on all four sides by cornfields. It is the utter opposite of a neighborhood school -- I spotted a lone farmhouse within walking distance, and the road is busy enough to render walking imprudent.

If we want kids to walk to school, they need neighborhood schools, and sidewalks.

This has been the least stressful soccer season ever, because two of my three players can bike to practice. It's still a bit of a scramble to get everybody to the right spot with the right gear, and to figure out dinner timing, but I can't tell you how nice it is not to be piling all the kids in the car every evening at 5. One surprise for me was how much my 9yo appreciates the independence. "It feels really good to get there on my own," he said. Today my oldest said something similar about getting to school on his own: "I really like the freedom."

If we want kids to walk to school, they need room to discover the pleasures of small freedoms.

I've posted before about my neighbor issues; they have brought home forcefully the reality that the culture has changed. People have the idea that we need to protect kids by driving them around instead of letting them be alone on foot. (In other words, by increasing their exposure to the most dangerous activity the average American child engages in.) Just this week at preschool I overheard a mother talking about her grade-school child. He was having a hard time on the bus, she said. It's only two blocks, she said, so it wasn't really onerous to drive him. She didn't like that option either, but she didn't know what else to do.

If we want kids to walk to school, the adults have to be sensible about relative risk.

Bearding the Lions

Remember how I have been teaching one class for the first half of the semester, but I am picking up the second half of another class? The handoff is next week, and tomorrow I am meeting the students and also, voluntarily, running a 75-minute class on a complicated topic.

Eek.

The students are not a happy group at the moment. Their first exam was a bear, so much so that my co-instructor is still dealing with the fallout. I'm hopeful that they'll be open-minded and glad for a change of pace, but some of them may have just decided that they're going to hate the class. Here's hoping we get off on the right foot.

I love my job. Walking to work makes me happy; I love my sunny little office with its big south-facing window. I gave my first exam last week and I tell l you what: I was nervous as a cat. Too easy? Too hard? Too long?

I think it worked out beautifully. I have just deleted some specifics, because it is probably better to be vague. But I will tell you that a student whose initial reaction to her graded exam sounded hostile came to see me in my office. She said she wished she had done better, but she told me twice: "This was a really good test." The conversation made my day.

Here's hoping I don't say anything too stupid in front of my co-instructor. (Who is, BTW, on the committee that's searching for someone to do this job next year. Nooooo stupid, please. Stay far away, stupid. Dr. Gladly hopes to stay employed.)

Voice on the Phone

"This is the Gladlyville fire department calling."

Our 9yo was biking home from a friend's house this evening. He saw the turning pickup truck too late; he couldn't get stopped. He slammed hard into the back of the truck, hard enough to warp the wheel and flex the fork.

He had sped away from home with no helmet. Bareheaded, he slammed into that pickup truck.

He's fine. Thanks be, thanks be -- he's fine. He has a sore thumb. I know what to do for a sore thumb.

A neighbor saw the collision and called 911. They sent two police cars, two fire trucks and an ambulance. [Edited: two police cars, two fire dept. ambulances. It was a little confusing when he first came home.] My husband took the call. I knew something was wrong. "I'll be right there," he told them. "Joe's fine," he said to me when he hung up the phone, "but he was clipped by a pickup truck."

I held out my arms to Joe when he walked in the door and he stepped into them, brushing away tears. Thank God for guardian angels.