View and Sign Mr. Frei's Guestbook, or send msg to ktylerconk@aol.com!!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Today it ended...
Greetings, Gentle Reader.
S'been a long time since a blog entry, and for those of you still reading - which in itself calls for a psychologically-oriented blog entry - this will most likely be it. I mean, it's over, and today was the capstone.
Today I was invited to speak about the row to an alumni group at Boys' Latin -remarks that I delivered this afternoon - and I figured that while I was at it, I'd deliver some thoughts to the assembled Middle School as well. (I had an inside track in scheduling that one, since I'm apparently in charge of scheduling speeches.) Since I'm not a big Power Point fan, this morning I hauled the boat and its accessories up the highway to school, figuring that seeing the real thing would be at least equal to ineptly flogging a keyboard in public. Tom and I couldn't squeeze the boat through the maze of angles that lead to the gym, so we placed it outside so the kids could see it on the way in and out. Similarly, an hour later at a different site, the alums filed past this Shackelton-esque display on their way into what I feared might be their nap time.
I enjoyed the notalgia of the day. Last weekend I spent a couple of hours trying to write "speeches" appropriate for each of these two constituencies, but it all sounded contrived compared to the candor you allow me on these pages. So...I went to these pages and pulled some excerpts...and they seemed to go over OK. Sure, the kids were compelled to sit through it, but I think they enjoyed the drama - such as it was - of "The Stalking." The alums hung in gamely through "Lemons to Lemonade," which you may recall was the story of my longest day. They asked some great questions at the end...asking me to recount other highs and lows...and I enjoyed my time with them immensely. I don't have any more bookings (unless I shamelessly book myself again at Middle School...imagine that internal monologue, Gentle Reader...), so when I put the boat away tonight I think I heard it (or was it me?) utter a kind of plaintive exhale. It's over. As I write this, a cold November-like rain is falling outside, perhaps nature's way of confirming that the summer escapade is, indeed, over.
It's been a wonderful ride.
So...what now? What's next? For now, it's great to back in the rhythm of school. My 8th graders are a particularly congenial lot. They are working hard, behaving themselves just enough, and pushing the envelope in all the places that an eighth grader should push. My classroom feels like a welcoming place, and I have to periodically audit myself to make sure we are actually learning something. My 58 students and I have a kind of unspoken arrangement: they'll keep me on the straight-and-narrow in the instruction of grammar ( a skill that Kay, Helen, Cammie, and Amy, my 6th and 7th grade colleagues, do a magnificant job in imparting), and I'll take them as far down the literature and writing path as my modest skills and their patience will allow. It's an arrangement that has worked well in the past, and this group seems to have bought into it enthusiastically.
Among the various and sundry administrative duties that come with my other role as Assistant Headmaster (Mr Frei, the Disciplinarian: The Pit Bull with the Soft Bite), perhaps my favorite current assignment is as a co-coach of the 6th grade flag football team. To this 55 year- old former (on his best day, only modestly talented) athlete, coaching 10-11 year-olds is both a sobering and joyful activity.
It's sobering because you cannot demonstrate certain techniques without exposing yourself to enormous embarrassment. For example, I coach the defensive squad, and during the first week I thought I would demonstrate pass coverage against my Lilliputian receivers. Bad call, Mr. Frei. While my technique might have been impeccable, I was no more able to cover these little pocket rockets that I could cover Amani Toomer on any given Sunday. I'll be hell on wheels when I'm playing on the Nursing Home team someday, but for now I'll have to wait.
It's joyful, even exhilerating, on game days, because in our league the coach gets to be on the field with the boys during games. It is, after all, not about winning or losing..it's about sportsmanship and learning the game, right? Humm. Anyway, during the 4th quarter of our 19-14 win on Tuesday, we held during two goal-line stands. Now, Gentle Reader, a goal line stand in 6th grade flag football is a dicey thing, since the Red Zone is essentially anything inside the 50 yard line... so anything inside the ten is a relative walk in the park. With under a minute to go, we were on our five, facing a talented triple-threat quarterback on his home field, fourth and goal. A missed snap, a batted-down pass, a decisive stuff of a sweep, and a heroic plugging of the line on a quarterback sneak later...and bedlam. Ah, the joys of teaching.
Sniff. Let's leave it at that, OK?
Love you guys. For the readership, for the support, for it all- thank you.
Mr. Frei
S'been a long time since a blog entry, and for those of you still reading - which in itself calls for a psychologically-oriented blog entry - this will most likely be it. I mean, it's over, and today was the capstone.
Today I was invited to speak about the row to an alumni group at Boys' Latin -remarks that I delivered this afternoon - and I figured that while I was at it, I'd deliver some thoughts to the assembled Middle School as well. (I had an inside track in scheduling that one, since I'm apparently in charge of scheduling speeches.) Since I'm not a big Power Point fan, this morning I hauled the boat and its accessories up the highway to school, figuring that seeing the real thing would be at least equal to ineptly flogging a keyboard in public. Tom and I couldn't squeeze the boat through the maze of angles that lead to the gym, so we placed it outside so the kids could see it on the way in and out. Similarly, an hour later at a different site, the alums filed past this Shackelton-esque display on their way into what I feared might be their nap time.
I enjoyed the notalgia of the day. Last weekend I spent a couple of hours trying to write "speeches" appropriate for each of these two constituencies, but it all sounded contrived compared to the candor you allow me on these pages. So...I went to these pages and pulled some excerpts...and they seemed to go over OK. Sure, the kids were compelled to sit through it, but I think they enjoyed the drama - such as it was - of "The Stalking." The alums hung in gamely through "Lemons to Lemonade," which you may recall was the story of my longest day. They asked some great questions at the end...asking me to recount other highs and lows...and I enjoyed my time with them immensely. I don't have any more bookings (unless I shamelessly book myself again at Middle School...imagine that internal monologue, Gentle Reader...), so when I put the boat away tonight I think I heard it (or was it me?) utter a kind of plaintive exhale. It's over. As I write this, a cold November-like rain is falling outside, perhaps nature's way of confirming that the summer escapade is, indeed, over.
It's been a wonderful ride.
So...what now? What's next? For now, it's great to back in the rhythm of school. My 8th graders are a particularly congenial lot. They are working hard, behaving themselves just enough, and pushing the envelope in all the places that an eighth grader should push. My classroom feels like a welcoming place, and I have to periodically audit myself to make sure we are actually learning something. My 58 students and I have a kind of unspoken arrangement: they'll keep me on the straight-and-narrow in the instruction of grammar ( a skill that Kay, Helen, Cammie, and Amy, my 6th and 7th grade colleagues, do a magnificant job in imparting), and I'll take them as far down the literature and writing path as my modest skills and their patience will allow. It's an arrangement that has worked well in the past, and this group seems to have bought into it enthusiastically.
Among the various and sundry administrative duties that come with my other role as Assistant Headmaster (Mr Frei, the Disciplinarian: The Pit Bull with the Soft Bite), perhaps my favorite current assignment is as a co-coach of the 6th grade flag football team. To this 55 year- old former (on his best day, only modestly talented) athlete, coaching 10-11 year-olds is both a sobering and joyful activity.
It's sobering because you cannot demonstrate certain techniques without exposing yourself to enormous embarrassment. For example, I coach the defensive squad, and during the first week I thought I would demonstrate pass coverage against my Lilliputian receivers. Bad call, Mr. Frei. While my technique might have been impeccable, I was no more able to cover these little pocket rockets that I could cover Amani Toomer on any given Sunday. I'll be hell on wheels when I'm playing on the Nursing Home team someday, but for now I'll have to wait.
It's joyful, even exhilerating, on game days, because in our league the coach gets to be on the field with the boys during games. It is, after all, not about winning or losing..it's about sportsmanship and learning the game, right? Humm. Anyway, during the 4th quarter of our 19-14 win on Tuesday, we held during two goal-line stands. Now, Gentle Reader, a goal line stand in 6th grade flag football is a dicey thing, since the Red Zone is essentially anything inside the 50 yard line... so anything inside the ten is a relative walk in the park. With under a minute to go, we were on our five, facing a talented triple-threat quarterback on his home field, fourth and goal. A missed snap, a batted-down pass, a decisive stuff of a sweep, and a heroic plugging of the line on a quarterback sneak later...and bedlam. Ah, the joys of teaching.
Sniff. Let's leave it at that, OK?
Love you guys. For the readership, for the support, for it all- thank you.
Mr. Frei
