Back Home

You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood, ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time—back home to the escapes of Time and Memory.
- You Can't Go Home Again by Thomas Wolf

On our first trip back to St. Louis for Christmas, after having moved eight hundred miles away to South Carolina, it was comforting for Tricia and I to become reacquainted with well remembered roads and much loved landmarks. We had only been gone six months yet felt a strong sense of nostalgia for everything we saw. The Gateway Arch standing tall above the Mississippi River. The Hampton Avenue exit that led to our old home in Dogtown. The entrance to Forest Park where we spent such a significant part of each year walking, running, biking, or visiting the numerous museums and zoo.

I had never in my life loved the city more than that first time back. Everything was seen with clouded edges and rose colored glasses. And it was clear that despite half a year away this was still home. It was the home place to all our memories of growing up, getting married, and having children. It was where our friends were. Where we belonged.

That was three years ago. Since that time we have came back every June and December to visit family and friends. But while it's nice to catch up with some of the most important people in our lives and to see their faces and hear their voices again, the city looks a little different to me each time back. The memories are fading and the sense of belonging is slowly letting me go.

It's no longer my home.

The first few times back we tried to revisit the old places and relive the old memories. Some, like favorite restaurants, worked but most just felt empty and unfulfilling. In time, we learned to let go. It was no longer so important to see the old house or walk the old route through the neighborhood to the park. These were things to let go. Things to move past.

I sit here tonight knowing that we have four more days left of this year's Christmas visit. Already, I've seen my wife's family and two of the best friends that I'll ever have in my life. And I think to myself I'm ready to go home.

Home to South Carolina.

Because that is where all the new memories are being made. The memories of bringing Muluken home and teaching the kids to ride a two-wheeler and our first visit to the emergency room and summers spent at the pool. South Carolina is where we go hiking in the mountains and swimming at the beach. It's where I've found two things that I once thought I had lost forever - a school where I belong and new friends I love.

So maybe it's true - you can't go home again. But, then, maybe you can. It just depends on what you expect to find there.

Poinsett State Park

What a relief. Finally, we found a state park with decent hiking that is within an hour of home. We had become accustomed to having to drive for hours up I-26 or I-77 to hit some interesting trails. But today we found Poinsett State Park. The park features more than 1,000 acres of hills, swamps, ponds, and more.

When Tricia and I first pulled up at 8:45 it was very chilly to say the least. The ground had a nice crunchiness to it as we made our way over the fallen leaves and pine straw to the ranger's office. It was closed but fortunately there was a very nice man who went around the back to another door so that he could unlock the office for me. I grabbed a trail map and off we headed.

Our first trail was the Coquina Nature Trail. This trail makes its way around Old Levi's Mill Pond and gets its name, coquina, from the limestone made up of broken sea shells. Many of the buildings and other structures in the park were made of coquina. This work was done in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps.



The trail was very shaded and full of loblollies and Spanish moss. In fact, the whole forest was covered in Spanish moss. Pretty eerie, really.

From this trail we jumped onto the Laurel Group Trail. It was an out and back with a short switch back. Along the way we saw a few squirrels and a few deer tracks but that was about it. The park is home to 40 different species of snakes - as well as alligators - but we didn't see any of them.

Thinking we were going to do eight miles today, we hit the end of the Laurel Group Trail and definitely did not feel as though we had hiked four miles yet. So we crossed the road leading into the park and found the continuation of the Palmetto Trail. The Palmetto Trail is planned to be a 400+ mile trail that runs from the northwest corner of the state, in Oconee State Park, all the way to the sea, just above Charleston. The trail has been an ongoing project for more than ten years. As of today they have secured and completed a little more than 250 miles.

I cannot imagine hiking the whole Palmetto Trail. We did just a few miles and found numerous spots where the trail was not clearly marked and/or obstructed by a lot of downed trees and overturned soil. Still, it was fun to see a bit of this ambitious trail. Despite its problems, if the Palmetto Trail ever gets completed I'd be up for trying to do it. It'd be fun to walk the width of the state and see everything from mountains to cities to swamps to beaches.

After a little less than two hours of hiking we turned back. The sun was getting high in the sky and we were actually beginning to get a little hot. We made our way back to the ranger office, had lunch by the pond,and watched a heron hanging out at the water's edge.

We did a bit more hiking after lunch on the Scout Trail. This trail was about as exciting as it sounds (it ultimately led to the scout camping area)but allowed us to push our mileage up closer to our goal of eight miles.

Poinsett is a lovely little park. The only drawback is that it is located right next to a bombing range. Driving in to the park you pass many signs warning you not to trespass for fear of being injured by the "air-to-ground bombs" being dropped. All day long we heard military aircraft flying back and forth over our heads despite the fact we couldn't see any of them. It sounded, in a way, like the black smoke monster in Lost.

We've now hiked in five or six of the state parks here in South Carolina. It occurred to me that it might be fun to try to visit all of them. Given the completely reasonable charge of $2 for adults (and children are free) it certainly is a cost-effective source of entertainment!

Learning Differently

We learn every day, Sometimes new things ,sometimes things as a review
We've learned we play some games wrong like Phase 10
Its playing by the different rules every time we play
Like in Sorry we found a different way
In Candy Land we all play it right
It is new games it happens with
Leaning every Day.


Harper

The End of One Era, The Beginning of Another

It finally happened.

After years of winning every game of skill I had ever played against the kids I have now lost. Some people find it off-putting that I would never let the kids win. But I wanted to make sure that when they finally won it would be well deserved. It's not as if I annihilated them - at least, not all the time.

There had been a few losses along the way. Those, though, came as a result of me trying to demonstrate something about the game or trying to keep it close. The kids would feel good about the win and I'd smirk, knowing that I could have won if I had tried.

But not tonight. I played my very best game and lost resoundingly.

Muluken asked if I wanted to play Othello. He chose black which left me with white - meaning that I would have to make the first move. I generally do not care which color I play because Muluken plays so randomly I know I can take control of the most precious squares on the board - the edges and corners.

But tonight was different. Muluken gave up the early lead so that he could establish good board position. Othello is a strange game in that if you get too far ahead early there's a good chance you're going to lose. That's because you're making moves that give you the instant gratification of a lead while the other person is meticulously laying the groundwork necessary for a strong endgame. Muluken has never done this. He's always jumped at the move that gave him the most pieces.

Yet tonight he waited patiently. Eventually he forced me to make moves that allowed him to secure most of the edge squares and all four of the corners. It was a massacre. I kept trying to find a way out but I couldn't. There were no quick moves on his part. No mistakes.

The end result was a 50 - 14 drubbing. Ouch.

"Maybe we could play a game with everyone - not just the two of us," he said afterward.

"No, let's play Othello again," I responded.

"How about a different game," he suggested.

"No. Let's play Othello again," I insisted.

We did play again. I was black this time and he played white. We found out that following the early strategy that we both employ means that the white player gets himself into a really bad situation after the first twelve plays of the game. He has to give up edges and, eventually, corners. Until we figure out a way around this the black player will always win. I can't wait to see which of us solves this problem first.

I'm no longer so confident, though, that it will be me.

Note: A day after posting this I learned that we had been playing the game wrong. When playing Othello, every move you make must result in taking at least one of your opponents discs. We had not been doing this. We also learned that black always makes the first move - not white. Now we will have all kinds of new strategies to discover.

Southern Fried Christmas

You can't induce the the Christmas spirit. There's no pill you can pop to suddenly find yourself strolling through the house humming along with the melody of Burl Ives' Holly Jolly Christmas . No teaspoon of thick pink syrup could ever give you the urge to leave the quiet and calm confines of your home to visit the mall in early December. And certainly no IV could be expected to make you want to spend an entire afternoon pulling out heavy boxes from the attic, strap a dying $65 tree to the top of your car, or even think about wrestling a twelve foot ladder across the front yard in a hopeless battle with age old strings of Christmas lights.

No, like any other form of insanity you have to allow this to happen to you naturally.

Bah Humbug, you say. You're just a Grinch in sheep's clothing. Perhaps, but I'm right. When you think about all the shopping and crowds and travel and small talk and tacky sweaters and those unbearable Chipmunks crooning away from every speaker you know that you have to love it, embrace it, to survive. It's kind of like living in Alaska.

That's not to say I'm not a fan of Christmas, I am. I love the songs and the smell of a fresh tree. I enjoy a warm fire, a good holiday movie, and the thrill of watching everyone unwrap their presents. But most of all, on Christmas, I love snow. Pink cheeks, red noses, and boots dripping by the door. This is how Christmas should be.

When I was a kid in Illinois I really loved the snow. It was all about snowball fights and snow angels and snow men. It meant the possibility of the much coveted "snow day" - a favorite of both teachers and students. These were the days before I knew what it was to shovel the driveway, sidewalk, and steps or to feel the tires of the car sliding across a solid sheet of ice toward a busy intersection. Snow was so much simpler then.

Yet with all its trappings, snow is Christmas. And that is what makes Christmas in the south so bizarre. There is none. Had Irving Berlin grown up in South Carolina rather than Russia and, later, New York he might have written "I'm Dreaming of a Brown Christmas." Just imagine...

I'm dreaming of a brown Christmas
just like the ones I used to know
Where the temp hits fifty
and the folks get chilly
and bundle up like eskimoes

No, there is no snow at Christmas for the south. Instead, they litter their yellow hibernating lawns with nodding reindeer and glowing snowmen made of steel and rope lights. Pseudo-icicles are strung from gutters and giant inflatable snow globes are staked in place. And it all looks eerily out of place. It just doesn't seem to fit. It reminds me of our foreign exchange student from Saudi Arabia who learned to speak English by watching BET. He showed up wearing a doo-rag and calling everyone "dawg." We knew what he was going for but it didn't quite work.

That's a southern Christmas.

Perhaps Christmas should become a regional holiday - only for those temperate zones that don't cancel school and put chains on their tires at the threat of a light dusting. Leave Christmas to the states who do it right. You know, the ones who enjoy a white Christmas but then pay the price for it by enduring three or four more months of frigid temperatures, black snow at the side of the road, and seemingly no hope of ever seeing the sun again. Why did you think so many of them spike their eggnog?

No, I say the south needs to put an end to the hoax. I suggest, instead, that they create their own holiday. One that the northerners could never dream of having. While no holiday should get its origins from a television sitcom I do have to say I would be partial to seeing Festivus take hold. You have the Airing of the Grievances and, of course, the pole. Throw in a sixty-five degree day, lots of sunshine, and some chitlins, grits, and bar-be-cue (pork, of course) and you've got a heck of start.

And no snow to shovel in the morning.

A Day in the Life

It is very hard to believe that we are now just a few weeks away from the mid-point of the school year. Inevitably, the first half of the year always seems to move much more quickly than the back half. But still, could we really be this far along?

When I was in grade school myself I used to hate to see the school year end. I was far from being a teacher's pet or even a "good" student. I goofed off a lot and paid attention very little. But I enjoyed being there. I distinctly remember being asked by a classmate on the last day of sixth grade if I was crying. I was. Despite having the world's worst teacher that year I still hated to see school end.

Being a teacher is much like this but even worse. Not only do you say goodbye to the daily routines and conversations that you love so much but you say goodbye to some of the best friends you could ever wish to have - your students. And you're always positive that next year's group couldn't possibly be as special as the bunch you're watching walk out the door.

So, seeing the year inch toward its midpoint - closer and closer to that dreadful day - I decided, on Friday, to keep a list in my teaching journal of all my favorite parts of the day. I told the kids I would be carrying it with me everywhere so that I could jot down all the treasures of teaching and living in our classroom and our school.

Here is what I noted...

1. When we first pulled into the parking lot the kids quickly yelled out "Mr. O isn't here!" Sure enough, his car was not parked in its usual spot along the side yard of our campus. We walked into the building worried about where he could be. He had never not been there when we arrived. And this was the first item for my list - comforting predictability. Every day Tim (Mr. O) shows up first and unlocks the door, puts out the newspapers for us, and heads to his room to work. Everyday I poke my head in and say "Good morning" before going about my own preparations. It's as much a part of my day as any other and definitely one that I always look forward to. Thankfully, he made it in just a bit later and we all felt a sense of relief.

2. As I unpacked my book bag the kids asked if I needed them to do anything for me. They are always so happy to sharpen pencils, record the date on the board, staple papers, or do anything else that needs to be done. As hard as it is at times to concentrate and get ready with the four of them in the room, the day will come that I will greatly miss these mornings together.

3. One of my students (whose mother is also a teacher at our school) came over to ask if Muluken and Ty wanted to come over to his mom's room for a "play date." They were both extremely excited to do so.

4. Just before school Tim and I had a great conversation about wonderful books to read during the holiday season. Not so much books that speak of any one holiday or tradition, but books that deal with friendship, caring, etc. I learned about a Cynthia Rylant book of short stories that I had never even heard of. I made plans to borrow the book.

5. Every Friday, as our students meet before school in the Gathering Room, Lyn or Beth comes in and plays music so the kids can dance. This is a big hit. And even though it is unbelievably loud and not even a closed classroom door can help you escape it, it's one of my favorite parts of the week. The kids have a great time dancing and laughing arm-in-arm. The fun always winds down to Randy Newman's sweet song "You've Got a Friend in Me." I love coming out of my classroom to run an errand at 7:58 each Friday so that I look out and see all those kids gathering up their bags and coats excited for another day together. No school anywhere has the sense of community and friendship that CFI does.

6. My class came in, unpacked, and headed off to one of their favorite parts of the day - Explorations. During the first 25 minutes of the day they select for themselves what they would like to engage in. Some choose to play chess. Others head off to the board to create different algorithms for the number that has been written there. Some choose to write in their writing notebook or to play a math game. But the most popular choice tends to be the science table. Friday was no exception. We've been exploring magnets the past week or two and the kids LOVE to experiment with them. On Friday I pulled out a science kit from our cabinet and the kids noticed magnet cars in it. These cars were no more than a rectangular piece of plastic, two long pins, and four plastic wheels. Still, you'd have thought they struck gold. A group of about eight kids quickly assembled the cars, mounted magnets on top, and then grabbed more magnets to push the cars. The purpose of the cars was to demonstrate how the like-ends of two magnets repel one another. The kids absolutely loved it.

7. The next part of our day is always a Morning Meeting. On Friday, Brandon brought in his electric guitar to share, three people shared a book they had purchased at the Book Fair, three more shared coin collections from home (some sorted by year just as we had done the day before in class),and many others told us about newspaper articles they had been reading. Daniel's article was about a two-headed python. After he finished, Madison called out "I loved that article!"

8. Later in the morning I read one of my all-time favorite books, Silver Packages. It's a book that consistently makes me cry on the final page. It's not a sad story but definitely a very touching one. I felt myself starting to crumble by the third page. At page ten I stopped to explain that this story sometimes makes me cry. As I read on I kept an internal dialogue with myself to hold it together. But as I turned the last page I knew I wouldn't make it. So I bailed out. I held out the book for the class to read the final line - the one that chokes me up. Ah, I robbed my kids of an opportunity to see how the written word can move someone to really feel something in a very strong way. I promised myself afterward not to do this again.

9. During writing, Edwin came up to me and said "I'm going to publish my latest song." He then held it out for me to look at and explained "I want to fade out on the last word." Sure enough, the last work was written smaller than all the rest. My favorite part of this interaction, though, was the fact that he referred to it as his latest song. He obviously sees himself as a songwriter. How cool is that? It made me wonder what I saw myself as when I was in second grade. Edwin has many identities by which he sees himself. I was just so happy that a writer was one of them.

10. During math we considered which would be more - a 1" stack of pennies or a 1' line of pennies laid side-to-side. The kids made predictions, we measured them, and then counted the monetary worth of both the 1" stack and the 1' line. Afterward, the kids went off to work on doing the same thing for nickels, dimes, and quarters. While the kids were working to make informed predictions, carefully measure the coins, and then count each group of change accurately, it was the fact that we had so much fun that caught my attention. I remember a debate during one of my graduate courses about whether or not it is necessary for learning to be fun. I certainly have my own opinion but it means very little because ultimately I want to make sure that teaching is always fun.

11. Because the other second grade class was away on a field trip today, we were able to join Mr. O's class for recess. The kids were so excited to get out and play O-Ball (a dodge ball game) with the third graders. I had a lot of fun as well. It was hard to keep myself from becoming too competitive. There were a lot of laughs and not one single argument. This is definitely a game we'll have to adopt for ourselves.

12. At the end of the day our class met in book clubs. Over the past week they had been reading a book with a small group and meeting from time to time to discuss it. Since everyone was finishing their books on Friday and chatting about them for the final time I decided to bring in refreshments and make a big deal of it. We had a blast. As I moved from group to group I was amazed by the wonderful discussions taking place about characters and plot and illustrations and so on. I wish I were half as smart as these guys when I was in second grade. I am so incredibly lucky to spend each day with them!

The best thing about this list is the fact that I've actually left out a bunch. I didn't mention Patton giving away the necklace that came with the set of books he purchased at the Book Fair. He explained that he really just wanted the books anyway. I also didn't mention how Kayla wrote a great comic or how Jenna worked with a timer to revise the song she's writing so that it'll be about two minutes long. I failed to mention the brand new set of books that Charee, our intern, bought for us and we added to our classroom library. I didn't say a thing about how much I LOVE wearing shorts and a t-shirt to school every single Friday no matter how cold it is outside. I omitted the poem I wrote about learning to play the guitar and the observation from someone in the district office that went well enough. So much to mention and all in just a single day. That's the best part of being a teacher.

There are 179 more.

Childish Adult (Dad)