Ice Breakers!

 Ice Breakers

I am not a fan of ice breakers.  You might even say that, as a general rule, they annoy the heck out of me. I’m all for them when a group is meeting for the first time but after that, not so much.

For the last 3 years of my career I worked in a small office. When staffing was at its greatest we  had 7 members on our team and we all shared a communal office. This meant that we could hear what everyone else was doing unless they took the conversation into one of our other rooms. It also meant that when two people chatted casually, everyone else was essentially in on the conversation and these often turned into group chats with us getting to know each other pretty well.

What does this have to do with ice breakers? Well once a week or so we had a team meeting, a more formal gathering where the entire office could get a handle on what everyone else was doing. Great! I am all for having everyone on the same page. Except … every meeting started with an ice breaker. 

Yup, this small group would share some personal part of their lives each and every week in the form of an ice breaker.

Keep in mind that we were already living in each other’s pockets and all knew quite a bit about the others so sharing another tidbit should not be a big deal. But it was, at least to me. 

I have two main reasons for my dislike of the ice breaker in this situation.

One, we were meeting for a specific reason, we were all busy people, and I am a big fan of getting in and out of meetings quickly. Ask anyone who has ever sat through a meeting that I ran. I would give out the required information, take questions, comments, suggestions, and send folks on their way. In, out, done. An ice breaker takes up more time that some folks just don’t want to spare,.

Two, they can sometimes get quite personal. I have sat through ice breakers that have asked us to reflect on our lives and share the worst of something. Nope. Not happening. I really do not like reflecting on the worst of something in a public forum. I engage in enough self-flagellation in private without bringing these episodes out in public. If I wish to spend time going over them with another person I will do so on my own terms. As for the sillier ice breakers, well see my first reason. Yes, they can be fun but I’m usually present at a meeting to accomplish something and the silliness can take place in another context. Maybe when I do not have time sensitive tasks to accomplish.

This morning I was listening to, of all things, a sewing podcast. This particular podcast  always starts with an ice breaker. Yup, a podcast starting with an ice breaker. I’m not really sure why they use this term for their first few minutes but there it is. In the context of the podcast they seem to use a prompt provided by a listener and expound on it. O.k., interesting content but is it really an ice breaker? The hosts already know each other so my question is why call it an ice breaker? Is it breaking the ice with the listener or with each other? While I enjoy the podcast it always sends my mind to wondering why start with a named ice breaker? Other podcasts start with questions from listeners so why use this turn of phrase? Why?

So my question today is two fold. (O.k., it is actually two questions.) Give me your thoughts in the comments or on one of my social media accounts.

One:  Ice breakers: good, bad or either depending on the context. 

Two: Should this really be the term used for the start of a podcast with the same hosts for every episode?

Next time either Buzz Words or the first of many “wildlife” tales.

Putting on a Show!

 Putting on a Show!

When our kids were little they took great pleasure in creating “shows.” They would plan it out (I think) and then, with their cast of characters which included Lamby, Dumbo and many others of the stuffed variety, they would play and we would watch.

One of the most memorable included a turtle attached to a piece of yarn being pulled up a “wall.” The song that accompanied this act was called, appropriately, “Turtle up the wall.”

After seeing their first opera the language of “opererish” was incorporated into the show. Almost 20 years later this still makes me smile.

We encouraged this creative play and I always watched those shows and the many that followed both at home and, later, at school. Trips to see one in A Capela and the other performing Gilbert and Sullivan.

All of these performances have led to tonight and tomorrow night when Natan makes his NYC directorial debut tonight with a concert production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Iolanthe. As a mother I could not be prouder!

Batya and I will be in the audience tomorrow, Saturday, February 11. Come join us!

Tickets can be purchased here: Iolanthe Tickets

Retired!

 New Beginnings

It’s official, I’m retired.

It has been a week now and it is still sinking in. All of a sudden I have time. I can just … be.

Really this is the first time in my life where I was not expected to be constantly busy. To be productive, to live according to someone else’s timeline.

There are a lot of things that I want to do but the urgency to squeeze them into specific time slots isn’t there.

This week I had to clean off the bed in my craft room and change the sheets. (Our daughter is coming into town this weekend and staying with us.)  It took me almost a week but it is done. 

Over the last few months the bed has become my de facto desk. I have a lap desk set up on it with my computer on top so that when I sew I can easily consult the pdf instructions without having the computer eat up my limited sewing space. Since the bed is a desk, that means that the bills and other papers that I didn’t have time to file and sort wound up intermingled with sewing patterns and scraps of fabric because, in addition to being a desk, the bed is also a great place to put projects-in-progress.  And my feet. (I’m currently sitting in my desk chair with my feet up on the bed and the lap desk on, well, my lap.) During the morning hours it is a lovely place to sit and bask in the sun. And, since I’m retired, I can do just that.

Now I still have a lot of other things to do in this room and in almost all of the other rooms. That said, I can do them when I wish. Slowly, quickly or, should I so choose, not at all. The last one is unlikely but it is an option.

In the last week I have slowly and intentionally practiced with my new serger/coverstitch machine. For those not in the know, it is a machine, a little bigger than my sewing machine, that allows me to sew with much more professional looking seams and hems. The new machine is now occupying my sewing table and the sewing machine is on the floor waiting for me to clear off my desk (not the bed-desk but my actual desk-desk) so that  I can use them both on the same project without having to switch them around.  The desk desk is currently occupied mainly with my daughter’s violin and another lap desk (they multiplied during lockdown.).

My new machine was my retirement gift to myself. So far I have made 2 pairs of workout tights, two pairs of flare leggings, two double layered hooded blankets and a dress. I have also used it to repair a couple of items where seams had popped open. So for someone not doing much this week, I’ve actually done quite a bit.

Past projects have either been rushed through in a weekend or taken a couple of weekends to complete due to time constraints, Yes, the blankets were over a month overdue but I am hoping that, with time on my side (and the presumed ability to actually decide on the fabrics) that I will be on time for the birthdays next year. (Sorry L & L!)

What else have I been up to this first week of retirement? Well I worked out 6 out of 7 days, 5 barre classes and a rowing class. All in the morning! No more late dinners! I also finished another project which has a looming deadline and made progress on some knitting. And finally, I took time to sit with a cup (or three) of tea and just read.

#noregrets

And so it Ends

 All good things must come to an end. All bad things too. Also all mediocre things. Basically, everything has a finite lifespan.

My career as a New York City educator has been all of those. There were times when it was wonderful, horrible and meh. Those times, however, are just about over. This blog post is a series of reflections and recollections so it might be a bit long. I’ll try to keep it light … or at least mix in more light than heavy.

My path to my current position has been circuitous. I have 2 degrees in biology and none in administration or education yet here I am, 35 years out of college, having taught and administrated for three decades.

I’ve worked as a lab assistant, a classroom teacher, a test coordinator, an administrator, and a supervisor, sometimes all at the same time.

I’ve had colleagues (and students!) give birth and pass away.

I’ve run after school programs and worked Saturdays. 

I’ve seen the best and the worst that this school system has to offer. I try to focus on the best, but it is the worst that is causing me to retire now instead of later.

The New York City public school system serves roughly one million children. The support system that is the theoretical backbone of this system is broken. With every new Mayor comes new initiatives. The old ones are either entirely dismantled or deprived of resources and left to wither. New programs are started without regard to existing programs that already do what the new program is designed to do.

Schools are bombarded with the idea of the day to implement in their classrooms, without regard to yesterday’s idea, on which they are still working.

My favorite example happened many years ago when I was tasked with attending the monthly meetings for the coordinators of English Language Learners. (These students are currently known as Multi Language Learners, MLLs, or English as a New Language students, ENLs.) 

The first meeting I attended was great. I learned a lot about how their corner of the DOE worked and had my eyes opened to many things. The second meeting was also great. We were introduced to a specific theory of instruction and shown how this model could be implemented in our schools. Then we were asked to figure out how we would do it ourselves. I was all in. I brought the concept home and our school dove in and adopted this as a major strategy in all of our classrooms. Then I went to the next meeting, and the next … and so on and so on.

In each subsequent meeting we were introduced to a new philosophy of education for ELLs and asked how we would implement it.

Now remember, my school and I wholeheartedly bought into the first strategy so we were not looking for another. We had purchased books and sent teachers to off site training. Why were we being asked how we would implement the next five programs? How many programs can a school run for one set of students? (No sarcastic answers, please, I probably have them all on the tip of my tongue.)

Wash, rinse, repeat. This is how my 30 years have gone. One initiative after another without giving the first one enough time to prove itself. Mandates from the city, state and federal levels, some of them contradictory.

Meetings upon meetings without meaning.

Another year I was given the responsibility of supervising physical education (yes, gym). I took it seriously and set out to learn all I could about effective p.e. instruction. I learned from my own staff and from more senior p.e. supervisors. And, I attended monthly meetings. Unlike the ELL meetings, the p.e. meetings taught me little that I had not already learned on my own. These meetings were painful. The person who ran them would tell endless tales about himself, repeating the stories over and over each month. When I called him on it after the 5th month of this I was told “not everyone has been here before.” Yup, he was retelling these pointless stories about himself because he thought he had a new audience (he didn’t, it was the same group from all the other meetings). I was told that if I didn’t like it, I could leave. I did just that and never returned. Later I apologized to my principal for opening my mouth and getting thrown out of the meeting. She, fortunately, laughed.

Do I know how to fix it? Nope. And, I admit, I am tired of fighting it. I am tired of being told that we have to do it “this” way. That my way, though more efficient and logical, is now how they want it done. I am tired of people building careers on the backs of our city’s children and breaking the backs of our educators.

The system is broken and, before you tell me that it is my responsibility to try to fix it, stop. I’ve tried. I’ve tried, my colleagues have tried, my husband has quite literally fought city hall.

Long gone are those days when I played school with my friends. When I created “worksheets” of math problems for my dolls. When I saved copies of old biology tests for “when I became a teacher,” and then later, actually, for the next year’s class.

In the rearview mirror are the days of budgeting with “units” instead of dollars (yes this was a thing in NYC and it kind of made sense, of paper report cards and cardboard train passes. The Delany card (almost exclusively a NYC thing) has been replaced by electronic attendance systems and does anyone even use chalk any more?

The dreams have been broken but I am emerging whole with a desire to do good things but, in another space. Time for the next chapter.

Comments are encouraged! I would love to hear your thoughts on these issues and how you are dealing with them in your part of the world! Comment here or email me at squid.knits@gmail.com.

Latkes!

 I take a modern approach to cooking -- I let my husband and son take care of it. Except, except for certain holiday foods.

For Chanukah I firmly take the frying pan in hand and make the latkes.

Latkes, for those of you not in the know, are fried potato pancakes and one of two traditional foods during Chanukah. (The other food is jelly donuts, I buy those.) Every family has their prefe
rred latke recipe and by recipe I mean "loose set of steps" by which they create these oily delights. 

Some put in an egg or two, others include matzo meal, flour, or other starch. Yet others choose to purchase theirs, ready to reheat for a crowd. There is no right or wrong way to make latkes. But mine is the right way -- at least for my family.

This morning I woke to a message from my daughter asking what the ratio of potatoes to onions was and, do I use salt and pepper. After I finished my first draft of this post I was asked "how many potatoes per person." I laughed.

I thought for a moment and replied (8 hours after the message was sent) 3:1 ish, and yes.

That's it folks, that's my latke recipe. Roughly 3 potatoes (medium size) to one similarly sized onion. I think. Then grate them all using your preferred grating method (I use the large hole grating disk on our food processor) to create large, wide, shreds, place in a strainer or colander to drain for a bit (10 to 30 minutes) sprinkle with a generous pinch of salt and several grinds of pepper and fry.

To fry, heat about a quarter to a half inch of oil (1 cm for my friends who use the metric system) and take a generous pinch of the mixture (I use the tips of all fingers and thumb) and drop in the oil. Repeat. Leave enough space between the latkes so that the pan isn't too crowded. Do not press. Fry until the latkes release easily from the bottom of the pan and flip. (The latkes, not your body, that would be dangerous in a kitchen with hot oil on the stove.) The latkes are roughly 2 inches in diameter and about a quarter inch thick. (5 cm and 1 cm)

When the second side is nicely browned, remove the latkes and drain on a double layer of paper towels. Keep going until either you are tired of frying or you run out of the source material.

Eat with sour cream or apple sauce and try not to think about the layer of oil spatter in the kitchen.

Happy Chanukah!