When my brother and I got to be old enough that we didn’t really need a babysitter, my parents used to arrange for the teenager next door to come and babysit us. I don’t think we would have presented a real danger to the house or each other, but I guess my parents wanted to be sure. Plus we loved this kid — JL — who used to come on occasional Friday or Saturday nights.

The thing I remember most was him sitting on a chair between our bedrooms and telling us stories about life at Reading High. I wish I could remember these stories but all I do remember is laughing so hard that my sides hurt. I remember my brother in the other room screaming with laughter. I remember that they were endless — some kid doing something in school that led him to the hall then to the parking lot then to the gym — and that we couldn’t here these stories enough times.

I thank JL for giving us a sense that all the craziness that was coming in adolescence, craziness we could already feel in the neighborhood around us, would be okay, maybe even funny. I thank him for sitting with us and telling these stories from high school so that we could relax a bit and understand that there was nothing to fear. I thank him for being so patient with kids who were younger and who didn’t have an older brother to tell us this stuff. Mostly, I just thank him for his kindness to my brother and I.

JL, I hope you are well.

Another November month of novel-writing has begun and once again I’m dust before the month has even really started. I thought I’d turn to this blog instead and start on an idea I had a couple months ago, while thinking about how tough some of my students can be and remembering how impossible I must have been at their age.

From the heroes of my college days:

when you’re young and defensive,
it comes off offensive,
and it’s hard to repay
the tolerance that you borrow.

At 45, I’ve incurred debts no honest may could really pay. So…I’ll try to write a public thank you each day for the next thirty days and see where it takes me.

All the greens!

Under the tent is
Burpee Lechuga Vivian
Seed Savers Merveille des Quatres Saisons
F-M Collards
F-M Kale
Seed Savers Susan’s Red bib
Burpee Little Gem lettuce
Seed Saver’s Arugula
Seed Saver’s Winter Density Lettuce
Seed Saver’s Spinach
Burpee Spinach

Forty days gets me mid-November. If things stay mild, could be eating through December.

On day three, I watered from above. Today I thinned plants — my hotdog fingers cannot manage to get a single seed in the whole — and soaked the bottom with 4/5 water and 1/5 nutrient solution. I find thinning plants, whether in the rockwool or outside, to be disheartening. After all I’ve had success in getting them started and now I have to kill some of them?

So…the week that I got no response regarding the absurd rise in my taxes, the shoddy demolition and construction on one of the ruined houses on our block continues.

Here’s what I wrote to the mayor:

Dear Mr. Mayor,

We’ve met on a number of occasions regarding education matters (I’m part of the team that started the Workshop School). I’m writing about a neighborhood matter.

I have lived on the 4700 block of Hazel Avenue for 19 years. It is outside the Penn catchment area.

My taxes are supposed to triple as my house is assessed at $150k more than it could possibly be worth.

Two recent events:

1. No one at the Office of Property Assessment will tell me anything more than my initial appeal has been denied. They told my neighbor that they didn’t have time to read the documentation we sent. Frustrating that a house is evaluated as worth MORE than many houses in the Penn Catchment, putting me in a position where I can’t afford my taxes because of a school my children cannot attend. Don’t get me wrong, like most good liberals I would happily pay more in taxes for our schools, but fair is fair.

2. On September 6th I reported the demolition and construction that was occurring on a house on my block. It is a full gut of the building. (4721 Hazel Ave). They are tracking construction dust (Lead? Asbestos?) everywhere. They have no permits. Now they’ve begun re-construction. Still no permits. Still no response from L&I.

With a block that has exactly nine owner occupied homes out of forty-four buildings, we are struggling to build a community. It is a great block, one that I’m raising my children on, one that’s four blocks from the public school I helped start. It’s a block where my son and I delivered signs for both of your campaigns.

A little help here would be greatly appreciated. A phone call from someone at OPA (I’ve left multiple messages and exchanged emails and gotten nothing) would be very helpful. L&I might want to address illegal and un-permitted construction fairly quickly.

I appreciate your help.

Sincerely,

Cancer chewed up my outdoor garden time. Trying to get started again.

1. Burpee: Lettuce Vivian
2. Burpee: Basil Mammoth
3. Burpee: Basil Genovese
4. Burpee: Lettuce Little Gem
5. Seed Savers: Lettuce Winter Density
6-7. Seed Savers: Arugula

Arugula appears to be indestructible, so I started extra. I need to fill the various hydroponic pots at home and at school. Hoping for 30-40 viable starts out of 98. Hoping that my sweltering classroom can support winter basil growth.

I’m going to use my school hours as the timer — turn off the lights when I leave and turn them on when I get home — at least until I get a real timer. Maybe this weekend.

Liked this article from last week, particularly this paragraph:

“…they(the tablets) struck me as exemplifying several dubious American habits now ascendant: the overvaluing of technology and the undervaluing of people; the displacement of face-to-face interaction by virtual connection; the recasting of citizenship and inner life as a commodified data profile; the tendency to turn to the market to address social problems.”

to be back in the School District of Philadelphia:

A scene from an episode of Louis CK’s show, Louie.

The violinist:

This is my work. It’s what I’m best at. Meeting our students and their parents yesterday was a simultaneously a thrill and a reminder of the responsibility one assumes as a teacher. I cannot wait to see what we can do together. It’s really hard to explain to non-teachers the thrill of a newly assembled classroom and the first time you get to meet your students. We have an amazing building, an unbelievable staff, and a new way of doing things. I met my students and they are AWESOME. AWESOME.

The shower:
Will there be a strike? Will there be any resources? Will I be teaching eighth graders who had a series of subs for their classes last year, who want to learn but who haven’t been given much of a chance? Will the overheated rhetoric around school reform overwhelm what I’m trying to do in the classroom? Will TPS reports get in the way of the trust I want to develop with my students?

To be continued…