Monday, February 26, 2018

Fear and Loathing the School Lunch (Break?)

With my son in the school system now, I am participating regularly in the monthly school council meetings. On Wednesday night my presence as one of the two dads that regularly attend meetings earned me a welcome greeting from the school principal as I came in. By name. (I suppose it is a safe time for principals to know me by name. Right?)

The meeting was similar to previous meetings that I had attended. Familiar topics were covered but an interesting one came up this time around: the length of the school lunch break. It turns out that the students only have a 20-minute break for lunch and at that point it is time for the kids to get outside for a bit of playground time before launching into the afternoon. One of the parents raised the concern after volunteering to join the kids for a visit to City Hall.  During the tour the kids were asked about whether or not they composted food and from that discussion it came out that the kids are composting a good portion of their school lunches because they don't have time to eat. From what I could gather from the discussion, the lunch break is limited, in part, out of deference to the school bus schedules that require the school day to wrap up at a time that squeezes the rest of the day to a degree that limits the flexible use of time throughout the day.

My son only attends school in the mornings at this point, but it still caused me some concern. For all of the signs that the school is doing creative progressive things with the way they are teaching the kids and engaging them in other topics and issues - whether it is in merely retaining a music program for the kids or making empathy a theme for the kids to discuss and learn - there is the niggling feeling that the institutional machinery will impose itself.

It is easy to get your back up against the bureaucracy or other efficiencies that schools embody for the sake of educating kids in the way that they do. I could also crank up my anxieties in the way I could when I had the sense that the system was no better than the most disengaged teacher and that the needs for control over the kids, numeric assessment or measurement of performance, a limited range of perception of children's abilities and interests... I could go on.

But... lunch break?

The impression I got from the discussion was that the length of school lunch -- 20 minutes of eating time -- was a matter that the school administration was aware of and that they just had to come up with the best, most flexible solution. Still, they are hemmed in by the school bus schedule which ultimately sets the tone for the the beginning, end and lunch of the day. The questions this scheduling raises are significant. How structural is this problem? How many people, how up with the school board need to be involved in resolving it? Does the principal have the autonomy to come up with a solution that aligns with what an education ought to be and what our schools were built for? The answer to a lot of these questions may be nothing more than, "Well... uh...," unless of course the suits manage to find the right track to do platitude karaoke to.

There is, granted, a dilemma in the question of how long kids ought to have for a school lunch. The goal is to get the kids fed and given some outdoor time during the time allowed for lunch and ensure that the day ends when it is supposed to. In all of that, there appears to be a lot of rigidity. I would not want me son to have all the time in the world to dawdle through lunch, but at the same time I would not want him hitting the wall in the early afternoon and being less able to learn because he did not have enough time for lunch. While I would respect some expectations that he take responsibility for feeding himself promptly, there is the lingering anxiety about his routine being regimented or mechanized and lunch being the thin edge of the wedge that contributes more than it ought to school success.

I have told myself from the outset that it will be up to me to help my son succeed in school and not to leave it entirely up to him and his teachers to determine what he learns or what skills he develops there. The lunch issue is one example of how the System can -- intentionally or not -- demand conformity in the face of cumbersome short and long-term consequences. At this point I feel that the people I would be working with at the school will want to come up with the creative solutions and I will have to figure out how to counter this and come up with ideas and solutions that may resolve this when my son, who is easily distracted from his food at the best of times, faces that time squeeze September.

Saturday, February 24, 2018

The Bicambrial S-Shaped Snow Fort

The east wing of the project, after about
45 minutes of construction
A meander through Riley Park was aimed at a stay in the playground, something to postpone the inevitable request to sit in front of the TV on a sunny Saturday afternoon. He, in snowboots, wanted to break ground through the virgin snow while I choose the well-worn path to keep my feet dry. It was not long, however, until he was changing his path to follow my steps and spare himself a demanding trudge.

That well-beaten route lead to an abandoned snow fort that was just asking to be augmented with a few more bricks. Gabriel quickly took interest in the snowy citadel and set about excavating other snow bricks to add to it. There was an odd machismo that took over. Gabriel's voice deepened as it has on occasions when one needs to take charge of the situation or fulfill the essential role of foreman on the project. He turned into this hybrid of engineer and battle leader as he looked at ways to build the fort higher and to set aside the perfect pieces to fulfill the role of gun or missile. His focus toggled between the two mindsets fluidly as he set about ensuring the structural integrity of the fort and the effectiveness of potential weapons. I followed orders as well as I could, though I did insubordinate at times to pursue the possibility of procuring a piece of snow large enough to serve as the fort's roof. My efforts caused a pair of collapses, but these were quickly repaired and I aimed for closure at the top. Gabriel, however, wanted to make sure the walls were low enough to allow snowballs to be launched at potential opponents.

The snow was the appropriate solidity to make huge bricks that probably weighed over 30-40 pounds and will leaving a tell-tale imprint on my back and hips tomorrow morning. There were loose chunks nearby which we added to the walls with ease but before long a fun part of the process was to jump on the edge of the snowpack to break off a chunk and then heave the whole piece over to the fort or to break it up into smaller pieces that were easier to heft and to brick into the structure.

It was enchanting to see how Gabriel's mind went into his version of project management speak as he set specifications for how it ought to be done and want he envisioned for the outcome of our work.  He tested the walls for their resistance to large snowballs, he uttered "stability," and "strength" with an authority that suggested that play was an opportunity to unleash vocabulary left dormant and untouched in the ho-hum of everyday school life. That deeper voice may have been this pent-up desire to command. I'm not sure why it came out as deep and authoritative as it did, unless it is the influence of the Han Solo voice in the Star Wars audiobooks he listens to. He even surprised me by declaring, "Cut" at the end of my video of the completed project.

The entire exercise in breaking the snow and putting into place ultimately lead to another wing of the fort being constructed. Gabriel's original intent was to add an exterior barrier to the fort but in short order it was connected. In keeping with the spirit of project management, a few other boys and their father took an interest in the fort and before long the five of us were adding to it and there was this vague sense of some landmark of an ancient civilization emerging from our efforts. I know, I know, it will melt or get kicked over at some point. We are anticipating just enough melting and a wee bit of a freeze to solidify the structure and extend the life of the structure before it relents to the next chinook or the coming of spring.

As Gabriel's plans for the fort unfolded and as the project expanded it was remarkable to see him in near-rapture as he chugged away in pursuit of his completed vision. The hefting and breaking of snow and its placement in the walls of the project as it unfolded kept him in motion for nearly two hours, oblivious to hunger and fatigue. Eventually, thirst got his attention but only after I coaxed him on our way to home. We will look forward to visiting the project over the next few days, but it was most fun to see him play foreman or boss for a few hours as the fort unfolded.