Radishes! Thinned the Kale and the Collards and had a microgreen feast of too much garlic, too few onions, and much bitterness.

Backyard

Frontyard

Swiss Chard — Beets — Carrots — Carrots — Beets — Kale — Collards

Sideyard

Peas — Spinach

Ta-Nehisi Coates, with another short essay I’ll likely be using in a classroom someday. In trying to find this article, I found all manner of internet commentary, most of which drew into relief the questions I’d ask a group:

who does this code apply to? what would a code created by young Asian men look like? By Hispanic women? By white lacrosse players living in the suburbs?

And what do these codes mean in the face of how power is distributed in society? Whose behavior gets laughed as “boys-will-be-boys” and whose behavior lands people in jail?”

Then there’s a personal essay by Brittany Griner. This is money:

It’s taken me a long time to figure out exactly where I fit. During that journey, I realized that everyone has a unique place in this world. I also discovered that the more open I was with my family and friends, the more I embraced others, and the more committed I became to doing the things I love, like basketball, skating and, of course, eating bacon (the greatest food of all time), the more love and confidence I received in return.

I just had to hang in there and be myself.

The more open I was with my family and friends, the more I embraced them, and the more committed I became to doing the things I love, the more love and confidence I received in return.

After pulling out my particular brand of Peruvian Dark Roast, grinding in an outrageously expensive Burr Grinder, scooping exactly 12 1/3 scoops of coffee into my French Press, boiling water but then letting it cool to exactly 208 degrees, steeping the coffee for exactly six minutes, pouring 10 oz into my favorite cup along with 1 tbsp of half and half and 1 tbsp of sugar, I sat down to read the New York Times magazine only to find this piece.

Favorite quote:
I am secretly obsessed with the idea of perfect anything. I am weak and searching and desperate, just once, to have a perfect thing.

Having just spent entirely too much time and energy on my perfect cup of coffee, I feel you Mr. Maron.

So I’m running home today, 5.72 miles via the 76 access roads, listening to the music I’ve always liked but now have critical approval for, and I hear this line again:

“And this is for the questions that don’t have any answers.”

It’s been a tough week. Cancer roared back into my life the week I observed a loss from 25 years ago. We’re working crazy hours to keep our students on track and grow our new school.

So much of teaching and parenting is about dealing with the questions that have no answers. How do I inspire kids? How do help my own children cope with the issues I still struggle with? How do we found a school that’s true to our own ideals and gives kids honest post-graduation choices? How do we create individual solutions for kids facing massive structural inequalities?

I can’t answer these questions — they have good and better answers — but I can try. That’s all I can do. And I can look with bemused attachment, if not compassion, at those who have believe that the truly important questions in life have easily defined answers.

Well, today has been a sad ol’ lonesome day
Yeah, today has been a sad ol’ lonesome day
I’m just sittin’ here thinking
With my mind a million miles away.

Lyrics, dude, recite ’em some lyrics.

Telegraph Road
Dire Straights

A long time ago came a man on a track
Walking thirty miles with a pack on his back
And he put down his load where he thought it was the best
Made a home in the wilderness
He built a cabin and a winter store
And he ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore
And the other travellers came riding down the track
And they never went further, no, they never went back
Then came the churches then came the schools
Then came the lawyers then came the rules…

Read this poem today with the students, from The Paris Review.

Favorite lines:

Once I entered, I never left
and never stopped going back;
and I’ve never got away from
the aura of toolshops.
It’s like my home ground,
it teaches me useless things,
it drowns me like nostalgia.

Tried to drive at the question of what will be there home ground in five years…what will be their “Tool Shop” when they get older.

Posted and then tying strings across…

Wow. Got there at 8:15. Things started at 8:40 (major, probably inappropriate pet peeve — if things are supposed to start at a certain time, particularly in the golden time of a weekend, then start on time).

But all in all, a day of well-constructed activities and thoughtful questions. They asked us not to publicly talk about it, which is fair, so I won’t write much more.

Most striking thing: I would have been thrilled to have had ANY of these folks as a vp or a principal when I was West. There’s a lot of talk about the lack of administrators in training but I thought everyone there would make a great principal. I also admire and respect the fact that they did not do a national search but instead sought folks who were committed to Philadelphia’s schools.

I did get to run to the awesome Free Library Bookstore, The Next Page, and get a bunch of books:

1. The Modern Library Editions of The Odyssey and The Iliad, for $5 each, with dust jackets in amazing shape. This was a great find as I slowly spiral towards book collecting.

2. I like Garry Wills. Here I was at an interview about leadership and here was his book on leadership. Hardback, great shape.
Garry Wills, Certain Trumpets: The Call of Leaders (Simon & Schuster, 1994).

3. This looked good. Tom Piazza, Devil Sent the Rain: Music and Writing in Desperate America, Original (Harper Perennial, 2011).

4. I had just finished reading “Cage Busting” and while I read this book awhile ago — it’s one of the many “let’s look at school reform over an extended period of time and try and make some sense of it” books — I Wouldn’t buy it new but liked it at $5.
Frederick M. Hess, Spinning Wheels: The Politics of Urban School Reform (Brookings Institution Press, 1998).

5. I like Adam Gopnik, too, and liked what I heard about this book.
Adam Gopnik, Paris to the Moon, (Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2001).

Then I got to watch my son get a game-winning, walk-off hit. Sweet.