All of a sudden it's T-shirt weather around here. The week at camp, being four days instead of the usual five, seemed to end before it had a chance to properly begin. The baby Garter snake was back under its piece of corrugated metal in the chaparral, and I found another Arboreal salamander, this time under a rotting section of tree trunk near the hillside amphitheater. There was a girl in my group whose heart functioned at about half capacity, so I slowed the hikes down a bit for her benefit. She had open heart surgery at two years of age, poor thing. Makes me think about the strength some people possess - the strength to overcome all sorts of physical and situational obstacles. Makes me think that I could be doing so much more with my own life since I don't have such serious obstacles of my own.
I'm feeling restless, like I need climb off my current plateau and ascend once more. Life is good but it could be much better. I always tell kids at camp that they should try something new every day. I don't always live that.
Jen definitely gets a chance to try something new this week, by hopping on a plane to Barcelona with her laptop and new camera in tow. I'm at the same time jealous and entirely supportive of her going. I've been across the Atlantic Ocean five times now (if I'm counting correctly), so it is only right that she finally gets to go. At the same time I would dearly love to go along, especially since she gets to go on stage with Nurse With Wound. I'd love to be there to witness that. I'm sure it will be recorded nine ways to Sunday though, so I'll get to see/hear it after the fact.
While she's there, I'll be home with the kids. It's pure coincidence that her trip happens on a week that I don't have to work. I'll only miss one day of work (a week from Monday) while she's gone. Willow turns four a couple of days before Jen gets back, and I think we'll go to the zoo that day. Her actual birthday party is scheduled for the following weekend.
Tomorrow is my last day of work before Jen leaves. Once again I'll be supervising the Weekend Work Program work crew as they clean up cabins, bathrooms, and the dining hall/kitchen area at work. It means getting up early, but it also means another eight hours of pay, which will make up for the day I miss the following week.
Currently listening to the new Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter cd, "Like Love, Lust & the Open Halls of the Soul". Liking it.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Okay, almost through last week now...
Thursday morning, after dropping five kids off at two different schools, I drive to work in the increasing rain.
Once I get there, I have to make myself a lunch (I throw together a veggie sausage patty with some cream cheese on a pita) and pack snacks for the all day (actually about 5 and a half hours) hike. I put 23 apples in a crate, plus two backs of pretzels, a bag of trail mix, and a bag of carrots and celery. I take this to our meeting site, along with a white board inscribed with directions for campers (fill water bottles, chase coyotes & bears, etc.). The idea behind the white board is that the kids can read it as they come to the meeting site and have everything done before I even get there. After all of the staff have gotten ready, we converge on the amphitheater and sing a song called the chiggy cheer, which is about as silly as it sounds. It gets the kids moving and helps make their dismissal into the dining hall to make sandwiches less chaotic. We try to avoid chaos.
Eventually the kids all filter back out and make their way to meeting spots. I have to go grab a couple more rain coats for kids, and nobody has read the sign I left, so it's one thing after another as the kids mill around like bemused farm animals. Eventually everybody is ready to go. We hike up the hill across from the meadow, and stop in Shelter grove to play Oh Deer, a game about the causes of population fluctuation. We play for awhile, and I graph "population" changes as the kids go from being "deer" to being limiting factors, and back again. Afterwards, I explain my graph and we discuss whether or not human populations have limiting factors. I ask the kids if they think there is a carrying capacity for human beings. Discussion ensues. I get to be the bringer of bad news again, but I try to keep it short.
From there, we hike up Switchbacks in the gentle rain. Looking up we can see mist in the trees. Many of the kids think it is beautiful. So do I. We arrive at the junction of Switchbacks and Banana Slug Way for lunch. It's still raining, perhaps even a little harder than before. We sit down at the base of some large Douglas Fir trees and eat. After awhile, I get out some Mexican spice and cheddar cheese flavored mealworms for the kids to eat, just in case anybody felt they got cheated out of a genuine worm-eating experience on the night hike. Surprisingly, most of the kids eat them. I'm going to have to order more.
After we separate our trash from our recycling and pack everything away, I explain to the kids about the upcoming solo hike. Due to the rain, I elect to go down Banana Slug Way, rather than continue up the Switchbacks towards Rock Outcrop. This will save us over an hour of hiking time, and I'll be able to get back in time for the kids to do some journal writing out of the rain. I ask the kids why they thing we're going to do a solo hike. Many of them have good answers. They mostly agree that it gives them a chance to experience the woods without the distraction of other people, and most of them are excited about this chance. A few of them are nervous, but that's expected. I leave them in the care of Terra and walk down the hill, leaving cards (which serve as trail markers and often contain reviews of concepts learned earlier in the week) on the ground every thirty feet or so. I stop where the trail crosses over Todd Creek, and wait. The kids arrive one by one, with only a few of them walking too close together. Once they arrive, I set some boundaries and let them explore the creek. This proves to be a lot of fun. When Terra arrives with the cards, I realize that she has forgotten to pick one up, so I hike back to find it, leaving her in charge once more. Once we're all back together, we hike back down, counting newts and playing the Downhill game as we go. Soon we're back near camp. By the pond, there is a squashed newt in the road. We discuss it, and hold an impromptu funeral service.
Back at camp, I let the kids go change out of wet clothes and tell them to meet in one of the cabins. Once we are all together again, I assign some journal pages, including an essay about the night hike. They get to work. Some of the kids are giggly, and after awhile a couple of the girls start giving the boys new hair styles. I check journal work as people finish, and rein everybody back in for a quick adaptation lesson using plastic animals. The kids have to write down adaptations that their animals possess. Most of them do it. Some of them seem to know nothing about the animals they have been given.
Class ends. I collect journals, stop by the dining hall to filch some milk and cookies (the kids get a milk and cookie break after field class), put my radio back, and hit the road.
Friday morning I get to work at around 8:40. I fill out an evaluation for Terra (all good marks - she has been great all week), put stickers on the kids' journals and put them in boxes with the Rikers projects so that they can be taken back to school by the classroom teachers, write down a couple of final 4c awards (forgetting to fill out certificates), and go grab some coffee cake from the dining hall where the campers are still having breakfast.
When field class starts, we circle up inside a different cabin. Usually I do an eco action (something to help the Earth) with my group on Fridays, but I decide to count our mid-week Periwinkle pulling as our group's eco action because we're getting a late start. Instead, we have an extended closing circle. Everybody is instructed to share a favorite moment from the week and/or something they learned. Being fifth graders, most of them choose to say what their favorite moment was. The usual moments are all there - night hike, dance, solo hike, etc. One kid says he liked Oh Deer the best. Terra emotionally informs the group that this week was the best week of her life. Some of the kids agree. I am happy that we get a closing circle that doesn't feel rushed. I tell the kids that I wish they could stay longer. Every Friday, I feel like I'm just getting to really know some of the kids, and then they're gone.
We head back to the dining hall for the closing ceremony. Eco action representatives from each of the groups report on what their group did, final 4c awards are read, the winners of the Stellar Cabins award are revealed (cabins kept neatest all week, coupled with other cabin points awarded by the hub host and night host), cabin leaders and teachers are thanked, Banana Slug is sung, followed by Shooting Star, which always causes some of the kids to cry. Our principal says some final words, and we form a goodbye line outside the dining hall. Soon, the kids are walking down the line. Mostly we get high fives. Some of the kids hug us. Some are crying. The cabin leaders, who are supposed to be part of the line, are over in the picnic shelter. The kids find them there. The teachers try to organize their students and get them to leave. Eventually they succeed and camp is quiet again. I pack up all of the lost and found and put it in the trunk of a teacher's car. Other staff members are busy at various tasks. Things are swept, sorted, and put away for the weekend.
I meet with Terra for a final time. She signs her evaluation (which will be sent to her school) and we talk awhile. She wants to work for the U.N. when she gets older. Good for her! I say goodbye and go get lunch. The staff from our other site arrives. Our Friday meeting begins. Apparently there was a power outage Thursday night. We have a generator, but it failed to kick in. Dinner was eaten by lantern light. I notice while glancing at the camp evaluations filled out by the teachers that at least a couple of them were so impressed by the lantern-lit atmosphere that they want it to become a regular thing. Our facility manager, Walrus, talks about why the generator wasn't working. Apparently one of the feral cats that helps keep the mouse population down around the dining hall crawled inside the generator to get out of the rain and ended up getting pretty well cooked. Walrus said he had to get it out piece by piece, and every time he tossed a piece to the ground, a Raccoon would sidle up and grab it, running off to stash it someplace before coming back for more.
Walrus then takes us on a safety walk around the site, showing us a new emergency generator and a mobile first aid cabinet. He then shows us how to turn off the water and the propane tanks in case of an earthquake. Eventually we arrive back at the staff room and sign-ups for next week happen. I take my paycheck and go home.
That's it, except for my weekend job, which this weekend amounted to a Saturday evening science party for an eight year old girl and her hyper friends. It was a lot of fun, and her dad tipped me forty bucks. I spent it by going to see Tyva Kyzy play at the Great American Music Hall. Review will follow shortly on my music site.
Thursday morning, after dropping five kids off at two different schools, I drive to work in the increasing rain.
Once I get there, I have to make myself a lunch (I throw together a veggie sausage patty with some cream cheese on a pita) and pack snacks for the all day (actually about 5 and a half hours) hike. I put 23 apples in a crate, plus two backs of pretzels, a bag of trail mix, and a bag of carrots and celery. I take this to our meeting site, along with a white board inscribed with directions for campers (fill water bottles, chase coyotes & bears, etc.). The idea behind the white board is that the kids can read it as they come to the meeting site and have everything done before I even get there. After all of the staff have gotten ready, we converge on the amphitheater and sing a song called the chiggy cheer, which is about as silly as it sounds. It gets the kids moving and helps make their dismissal into the dining hall to make sandwiches less chaotic. We try to avoid chaos.
Eventually the kids all filter back out and make their way to meeting spots. I have to go grab a couple more rain coats for kids, and nobody has read the sign I left, so it's one thing after another as the kids mill around like bemused farm animals. Eventually everybody is ready to go. We hike up the hill across from the meadow, and stop in Shelter grove to play Oh Deer, a game about the causes of population fluctuation. We play for awhile, and I graph "population" changes as the kids go from being "deer" to being limiting factors, and back again. Afterwards, I explain my graph and we discuss whether or not human populations have limiting factors. I ask the kids if they think there is a carrying capacity for human beings. Discussion ensues. I get to be the bringer of bad news again, but I try to keep it short.
From there, we hike up Switchbacks in the gentle rain. Looking up we can see mist in the trees. Many of the kids think it is beautiful. So do I. We arrive at the junction of Switchbacks and Banana Slug Way for lunch. It's still raining, perhaps even a little harder than before. We sit down at the base of some large Douglas Fir trees and eat. After awhile, I get out some Mexican spice and cheddar cheese flavored mealworms for the kids to eat, just in case anybody felt they got cheated out of a genuine worm-eating experience on the night hike. Surprisingly, most of the kids eat them. I'm going to have to order more.
After we separate our trash from our recycling and pack everything away, I explain to the kids about the upcoming solo hike. Due to the rain, I elect to go down Banana Slug Way, rather than continue up the Switchbacks towards Rock Outcrop. This will save us over an hour of hiking time, and I'll be able to get back in time for the kids to do some journal writing out of the rain. I ask the kids why they thing we're going to do a solo hike. Many of them have good answers. They mostly agree that it gives them a chance to experience the woods without the distraction of other people, and most of them are excited about this chance. A few of them are nervous, but that's expected. I leave them in the care of Terra and walk down the hill, leaving cards (which serve as trail markers and often contain reviews of concepts learned earlier in the week) on the ground every thirty feet or so. I stop where the trail crosses over Todd Creek, and wait. The kids arrive one by one, with only a few of them walking too close together. Once they arrive, I set some boundaries and let them explore the creek. This proves to be a lot of fun. When Terra arrives with the cards, I realize that she has forgotten to pick one up, so I hike back to find it, leaving her in charge once more. Once we're all back together, we hike back down, counting newts and playing the Downhill game as we go. Soon we're back near camp. By the pond, there is a squashed newt in the road. We discuss it, and hold an impromptu funeral service.
Back at camp, I let the kids go change out of wet clothes and tell them to meet in one of the cabins. Once we are all together again, I assign some journal pages, including an essay about the night hike. They get to work. Some of the kids are giggly, and after awhile a couple of the girls start giving the boys new hair styles. I check journal work as people finish, and rein everybody back in for a quick adaptation lesson using plastic animals. The kids have to write down adaptations that their animals possess. Most of them do it. Some of them seem to know nothing about the animals they have been given.
Class ends. I collect journals, stop by the dining hall to filch some milk and cookies (the kids get a milk and cookie break after field class), put my radio back, and hit the road.
Friday morning I get to work at around 8:40. I fill out an evaluation for Terra (all good marks - she has been great all week), put stickers on the kids' journals and put them in boxes with the Rikers projects so that they can be taken back to school by the classroom teachers, write down a couple of final 4c awards (forgetting to fill out certificates), and go grab some coffee cake from the dining hall where the campers are still having breakfast.
When field class starts, we circle up inside a different cabin. Usually I do an eco action (something to help the Earth) with my group on Fridays, but I decide to count our mid-week Periwinkle pulling as our group's eco action because we're getting a late start. Instead, we have an extended closing circle. Everybody is instructed to share a favorite moment from the week and/or something they learned. Being fifth graders, most of them choose to say what their favorite moment was. The usual moments are all there - night hike, dance, solo hike, etc. One kid says he liked Oh Deer the best. Terra emotionally informs the group that this week was the best week of her life. Some of the kids agree. I am happy that we get a closing circle that doesn't feel rushed. I tell the kids that I wish they could stay longer. Every Friday, I feel like I'm just getting to really know some of the kids, and then they're gone.
We head back to the dining hall for the closing ceremony. Eco action representatives from each of the groups report on what their group did, final 4c awards are read, the winners of the Stellar Cabins award are revealed (cabins kept neatest all week, coupled with other cabin points awarded by the hub host and night host), cabin leaders and teachers are thanked, Banana Slug is sung, followed by Shooting Star, which always causes some of the kids to cry. Our principal says some final words, and we form a goodbye line outside the dining hall. Soon, the kids are walking down the line. Mostly we get high fives. Some of the kids hug us. Some are crying. The cabin leaders, who are supposed to be part of the line, are over in the picnic shelter. The kids find them there. The teachers try to organize their students and get them to leave. Eventually they succeed and camp is quiet again. I pack up all of the lost and found and put it in the trunk of a teacher's car. Other staff members are busy at various tasks. Things are swept, sorted, and put away for the weekend.
I meet with Terra for a final time. She signs her evaluation (which will be sent to her school) and we talk awhile. She wants to work for the U.N. when she gets older. Good for her! I say goodbye and go get lunch. The staff from our other site arrives. Our Friday meeting begins. Apparently there was a power outage Thursday night. We have a generator, but it failed to kick in. Dinner was eaten by lantern light. I notice while glancing at the camp evaluations filled out by the teachers that at least a couple of them were so impressed by the lantern-lit atmosphere that they want it to become a regular thing. Our facility manager, Walrus, talks about why the generator wasn't working. Apparently one of the feral cats that helps keep the mouse population down around the dining hall crawled inside the generator to get out of the rain and ended up getting pretty well cooked. Walrus said he had to get it out piece by piece, and every time he tossed a piece to the ground, a Raccoon would sidle up and grab it, running off to stash it someplace before coming back for more.
Walrus then takes us on a safety walk around the site, showing us a new emergency generator and a mobile first aid cabinet. He then shows us how to turn off the water and the propane tanks in case of an earthquake. Eventually we arrive back at the staff room and sign-ups for next week happen. I take my paycheck and go home.
That's it, except for my weekend job, which this weekend amounted to a Saturday evening science party for an eight year old girl and her hyper friends. It was a lot of fun, and her dad tipped me forty bucks. I spent it by going to see Tyva Kyzy play at the Great American Music Hall. Review will follow shortly on my music site.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Snapshot of a work week, continued...
Let's see, where were we? Wednesday morning? Again, after dropping off four kids (first Sophie at the Y, then the two boys and their nearly live-in friend at school) I head for work, arriving at around 8:45. I have to look around for a set of geography cards for the ranger hike I have planned. A ranger hike means that my class gets to break into five groups, each of which will interpret something interesting along a trail. I usually have the kids teach about trees and what uses the Ohlone Indians put them to, but I've decided to have the focus of this ranger hike be plate tectonics.
I finally find the cards (they were in a coworker's backpack) and the bell rings for field class. The day is gray and a heavy mist drifts down, dampening the ground. Rain is expected for the next couple of days. Most of the kids have dressed accordingly. I grab some raincoats out of the aptly named raincoat room for the rest.
Once in the forest, I have the kids circle up in a Redwood circle, or faerie ring. I tell them that wood faerie built it, and with a straight face launch into an in-depth explanation about wood faerie. After awhile, I ask if any of the class has a more plausible explanation for the perfect circle of trees. Some do, but nobody quite arrives at the truth. We discuss Redwood adaptations for a few minutes, and then the kids get their journals. I break them into groups and explain how the ranger hike will work. I take the first group down the trail with me while Terra occupies the rest of the class with a game of Chief. Once group one is set up with their cards (information on plate tectonics), I tell them to howl like coyotes as a signal for Terra to send the next group. They do, and I move down the trail to scope out a location for group two. Group one teaches group two, and then sends them my way, howling for group three as they do so. I set up group two with some more geology information, and tell them to point out some Poison Oak vines climbing the Redwoods. Group three is walking towards us, so I move further down the trail to wait for them. When group three, after being taught by group two, reaches me, I point out a nearby Wood rat nest, and show them the non-native Periwinkle growing along the trail. I instruct them to pull periwinkle and to tell the other kids to do so as well. I also tell them to oversee the gathering of Madrone bark for the afternoon's leaf mounting project. And, if that wasn't enough, they get some geology cards as well. The next group just gets some geology cards. I tell them to point out the small Turret spider homes nearby. Can you guess what Turret spider homes look like? The fifth and final group gets to stand between a couple of huge, off kilter Douglas Firs. The Firs are leaning over the trail, and if one looks up, one can see that as they grew, the angle is corrected towards the vertical. More shifting due to the fault zone? Most likely. After everybody has taught everybody else, and everybody has tried eating Douglas Fir needles, we gather together again and I make the kids do page 4 in their journals - nutrient cycle/food chain. Basic stuff, but some of the kids have a bit of trouble. On the way back to camp, one of the girls almost steps on a newt. Inspecting it more closely, I notice that it has no eyes. I take some pictures and launch into a short lecture on amphibian mutations and what an indicator species is. I bring up miner's canaries. I ask the kids what they would do if they knew that a sensitive class of animals like amphibians were disappearing? I make the point that miners could get out of a mine if they knew there were dangerous gases, but we can't leave the Earth if a global "miner's canary", like the amphibian population, were to die off. I end by telling them that the amphibian population is dying off. Kind of a downer, but the truth.
But hey, it's lunch time now.
For the afternoon hike, Terra goes on break and three of the kids from Squirrel's group join us - the girl with a broken foot, the girl with spinibifida, and the boy with no lower legs. Squirrel is going up the creek with his group this afternoon, so I volunteered to take the kids in his group who need wheelchairs to get around. All I have planned is an activity called Rikers (leaf mounting and labeling) and a visit to the nature lab (one room nature museum down by the staff house), with the possibility of a visit to the pond if we get the other stuff done.
Rikers goes smoothly. Butterfly, the girl with Spinibifida, has an aide along. Rat, the boy with no legs, is very mobile, hopping in and out of his wheelchair. He has just arrived at camp today because he was sick. The girl with the broken foot is riding in one of the camp's off-road wheelchairs (actually a jogging stroller), as is Butterfly.
The object of Rikers is to mount and label examples of plants the Ohlone people used. The four examples we use are California Bay Laurel, Redwood, Tan Oak, and Madrone bark. We get throught the project assembly line style. The only part that the kids have a problem with is wrapping the project in cellophane. This requires a level of dexterity not yet attained by some sixth graders.
Outside, it is raining.
After we finish Rikers, we visit the nature lab, home of various taxidermied animals, bones, educational posters, microscopes (including a video microscope), two red-eared sliders (a new addition, thanks to Squirrel), Orange-head and Hissing cockroaches (mine), two snakes (Gopher and California King), and for today only, my Flat Rock scorpion. I let the kids have some time checking the place out on their own, and then teach a quick lesson on scientific classification. Afterwards, I get out the cockroaches. I don't think I've ever seen a group as nervous about cockroaches as this one. Some of the kids touch them anyway. Discussion ensues - why is it that all of the animals we consider "dirty" are ones that live near humans? Next, I get out the scorpion and hold it under a black light so people can see it glow green. That gets lots of ooohs and aaaahs. I tell them that the scorpion has been on Earth for about 400 million years. Talk about having some highly successful adaptations. Soon it's snake time. I get out the California King snake. The kids are interested and ask lots and lots of questions. Some kids hold the snake. Some just touch it. Some back away. More questions get asked. The clock ticks away, accompanied by the sound of rain. Soon it's time to get back to camp for recess. No pond today.
I don't have to oversee recess today, so I have some down time. I spend it doing various, rather forgettable things. For dinner there is spaghetti. Water continues to drift down from the darkening sky.
The night hike starts late. Rain (the hub host, not precipitation) has gone home sick, so Squirrel fills in. By the time we get our kids, it's nearly 7:30. We're missing Redwood, who has a slight fever. Terra is back. It is really dark. I ask the kids if they're nervous. About ten hands go up. I do my best to allay their fears, ending by having them "throw" their fears into a piece of flash paper and lighting it on fire. We leave our meeting spot in a single file, centipede style (each body segment on a centipede has two legs and is by nature forced to follow the one directly in front) line. Once under the Redwoods, I realize that this is one of the darkest night hikes I've ever led. Usually clouds reflect nearby city lights, but they don't seem to be doing their job tonight. There is no moon either. We circle up at the junction of two trails, and test our night vision with a candle. We all close one eye and stare into the candle flame. After I snuff the candle, we blink, alternating eyes to see the difference in vision. Everybody sees a difference. Before we move on, I mix some luminol and bleach water to together so they can see the resulting glowing liquid.
The next section of trail is the darkest, and coincidentally, the rockiest. I have the kids hold on to each other's shoulders. The going is slow. We pass the big Redwood stump that I often fill with kids on night hikes, but since we've gotten a late start, we pass it. Around the corner, in a different Redwood grove, I tell them a detailed story about glow worms, culminating in having them eat a "freeze dried glow worm" which throws of sparks when bitten. Most of the kids fall for it. I'm helped by Terra playing along so well that I think I've fooled her too. Of course, they have actually each eaten a section of a Wint-o-green lifesaver, the breaking of which results in a phenomenon called triboluminescence - something to do with sugar and nitrogen electrons interacting with oxygen molecules. A few kids are so fooled by the story that they don't eat one. Pretty much the same thing happens every week. By this time, I notice that we're due back in camp in less than ten minutes, so we head downhill. I had planned to hike them through the chaparral, but it is just as well I didn't because I'm sure we would have been slowed down by all of the newts brought out by the rain.
Back at camp, I dismiss the kids to their cabins, check in at the staff room to say goodnight and drop off my radio, and walk out to my car for the drive home.
More to come...
Let's see, where were we? Wednesday morning? Again, after dropping off four kids (first Sophie at the Y, then the two boys and their nearly live-in friend at school) I head for work, arriving at around 8:45. I have to look around for a set of geography cards for the ranger hike I have planned. A ranger hike means that my class gets to break into five groups, each of which will interpret something interesting along a trail. I usually have the kids teach about trees and what uses the Ohlone Indians put them to, but I've decided to have the focus of this ranger hike be plate tectonics.
I finally find the cards (they were in a coworker's backpack) and the bell rings for field class. The day is gray and a heavy mist drifts down, dampening the ground. Rain is expected for the next couple of days. Most of the kids have dressed accordingly. I grab some raincoats out of the aptly named raincoat room for the rest.
Once in the forest, I have the kids circle up in a Redwood circle, or faerie ring. I tell them that wood faerie built it, and with a straight face launch into an in-depth explanation about wood faerie. After awhile, I ask if any of the class has a more plausible explanation for the perfect circle of trees. Some do, but nobody quite arrives at the truth. We discuss Redwood adaptations for a few minutes, and then the kids get their journals. I break them into groups and explain how the ranger hike will work. I take the first group down the trail with me while Terra occupies the rest of the class with a game of Chief. Once group one is set up with their cards (information on plate tectonics), I tell them to howl like coyotes as a signal for Terra to send the next group. They do, and I move down the trail to scope out a location for group two. Group one teaches group two, and then sends them my way, howling for group three as they do so. I set up group two with some more geology information, and tell them to point out some Poison Oak vines climbing the Redwoods. Group three is walking towards us, so I move further down the trail to wait for them. When group three, after being taught by group two, reaches me, I point out a nearby Wood rat nest, and show them the non-native Periwinkle growing along the trail. I instruct them to pull periwinkle and to tell the other kids to do so as well. I also tell them to oversee the gathering of Madrone bark for the afternoon's leaf mounting project. And, if that wasn't enough, they get some geology cards as well. The next group just gets some geology cards. I tell them to point out the small Turret spider homes nearby. Can you guess what Turret spider homes look like? The fifth and final group gets to stand between a couple of huge, off kilter Douglas Firs. The Firs are leaning over the trail, and if one looks up, one can see that as they grew, the angle is corrected towards the vertical. More shifting due to the fault zone? Most likely. After everybody has taught everybody else, and everybody has tried eating Douglas Fir needles, we gather together again and I make the kids do page 4 in their journals - nutrient cycle/food chain. Basic stuff, but some of the kids have a bit of trouble. On the way back to camp, one of the girls almost steps on a newt. Inspecting it more closely, I notice that it has no eyes. I take some pictures and launch into a short lecture on amphibian mutations and what an indicator species is. I bring up miner's canaries. I ask the kids what they would do if they knew that a sensitive class of animals like amphibians were disappearing? I make the point that miners could get out of a mine if they knew there were dangerous gases, but we can't leave the Earth if a global "miner's canary", like the amphibian population, were to die off. I end by telling them that the amphibian population is dying off. Kind of a downer, but the truth.
But hey, it's lunch time now.
For the afternoon hike, Terra goes on break and three of the kids from Squirrel's group join us - the girl with a broken foot, the girl with spinibifida, and the boy with no lower legs. Squirrel is going up the creek with his group this afternoon, so I volunteered to take the kids in his group who need wheelchairs to get around. All I have planned is an activity called Rikers (leaf mounting and labeling) and a visit to the nature lab (one room nature museum down by the staff house), with the possibility of a visit to the pond if we get the other stuff done.
Rikers goes smoothly. Butterfly, the girl with Spinibifida, has an aide along. Rat, the boy with no legs, is very mobile, hopping in and out of his wheelchair. He has just arrived at camp today because he was sick. The girl with the broken foot is riding in one of the camp's off-road wheelchairs (actually a jogging stroller), as is Butterfly.
The object of Rikers is to mount and label examples of plants the Ohlone people used. The four examples we use are California Bay Laurel, Redwood, Tan Oak, and Madrone bark. We get throught the project assembly line style. The only part that the kids have a problem with is wrapping the project in cellophane. This requires a level of dexterity not yet attained by some sixth graders.
Outside, it is raining.
After we finish Rikers, we visit the nature lab, home of various taxidermied animals, bones, educational posters, microscopes (including a video microscope), two red-eared sliders (a new addition, thanks to Squirrel), Orange-head and Hissing cockroaches (mine), two snakes (Gopher and California King), and for today only, my Flat Rock scorpion. I let the kids have some time checking the place out on their own, and then teach a quick lesson on scientific classification. Afterwards, I get out the cockroaches. I don't think I've ever seen a group as nervous about cockroaches as this one. Some of the kids touch them anyway. Discussion ensues - why is it that all of the animals we consider "dirty" are ones that live near humans? Next, I get out the scorpion and hold it under a black light so people can see it glow green. That gets lots of ooohs and aaaahs. I tell them that the scorpion has been on Earth for about 400 million years. Talk about having some highly successful adaptations. Soon it's snake time. I get out the California King snake. The kids are interested and ask lots and lots of questions. Some kids hold the snake. Some just touch it. Some back away. More questions get asked. The clock ticks away, accompanied by the sound of rain. Soon it's time to get back to camp for recess. No pond today.
I don't have to oversee recess today, so I have some down time. I spend it doing various, rather forgettable things. For dinner there is spaghetti. Water continues to drift down from the darkening sky.
The night hike starts late. Rain (the hub host, not precipitation) has gone home sick, so Squirrel fills in. By the time we get our kids, it's nearly 7:30. We're missing Redwood, who has a slight fever. Terra is back. It is really dark. I ask the kids if they're nervous. About ten hands go up. I do my best to allay their fears, ending by having them "throw" their fears into a piece of flash paper and lighting it on fire. We leave our meeting spot in a single file, centipede style (each body segment on a centipede has two legs and is by nature forced to follow the one directly in front) line. Once under the Redwoods, I realize that this is one of the darkest night hikes I've ever led. Usually clouds reflect nearby city lights, but they don't seem to be doing their job tonight. There is no moon either. We circle up at the junction of two trails, and test our night vision with a candle. We all close one eye and stare into the candle flame. After I snuff the candle, we blink, alternating eyes to see the difference in vision. Everybody sees a difference. Before we move on, I mix some luminol and bleach water to together so they can see the resulting glowing liquid.
The next section of trail is the darkest, and coincidentally, the rockiest. I have the kids hold on to each other's shoulders. The going is slow. We pass the big Redwood stump that I often fill with kids on night hikes, but since we've gotten a late start, we pass it. Around the corner, in a different Redwood grove, I tell them a detailed story about glow worms, culminating in having them eat a "freeze dried glow worm" which throws of sparks when bitten. Most of the kids fall for it. I'm helped by Terra playing along so well that I think I've fooled her too. Of course, they have actually each eaten a section of a Wint-o-green lifesaver, the breaking of which results in a phenomenon called triboluminescence - something to do with sugar and nitrogen electrons interacting with oxygen molecules. A few kids are so fooled by the story that they don't eat one. Pretty much the same thing happens every week. By this time, I notice that we're due back in camp in less than ten minutes, so we head downhill. I had planned to hike them through the chaparral, but it is just as well I didn't because I'm sure we would have been slowed down by all of the newts brought out by the rain.
Back at camp, I dismiss the kids to their cabins, check in at the staff room to say goodnight and drop off my radio, and walk out to my car for the drive home.
More to come...
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Snapshot of a work week, continued:
On Tuesday, after dropping off four kids at school(it would have been five, but Willow is home with an earache), I arrive at work around 8:50. The bell for field class rings at about 9:00. Once all of the kids are at our meeting spot, we play a name game called zap. Then we put some small, clear plastic bags over the leaves of some nearby trees, fixing them in place with rubber bands. This is to illustrate that transpiration occurs. We will check the bags after lunch.
I hike the kids past the pond and we stop near the hostel again. Once we are circled up in a planet Earth, I place a large garbage back over a pile of rocks in the middle of the circle, making sure there is a depression in the middle. I then sprinkle dirt over it. This becomes my watershed model, and I use it to explain watersheds and erosion. I pick three volunteers to use their water bottles to make it "rain" on the model, and we all observe that the water collects in the center valley, taking the dirt with it. Discussion ensues. Afterwards, I hike them around the corner and down the trail to where the trail crosses over the creek. This area features a lot of Redwoods, and we see our first couple of Banana slugs for the week. The kids descend on them like paparazzi. At the creek, I demonstrate how to make face paint by rubbing wet sedimentary rocks together, which leads into an explanation about weathering. Not all of the kids want to get their hands wet. A camper named Redwood helps me test the water for pH, and I discover that the reading is somewhere around 8.2, which is more alkaline that I would have hoped. I wonder if the probe is malfunctioning. I briefly explain, pH, water testing in general, and tell the kids what a riparian community it is. Being long-winded, I launch into a talk about riparian corridors. The kids finish face-painting, I burden them with a few additional safety rules (watch out for wet and wobbly rocks, don't climb the embankments, walk in a single file line, help each other, avoid getting your feet wet...) and we start walking up the creek, crossing and recrossing it as we proceed. I stop at one point to challenge them to find something unnatural (make by humans) in the creek bed. Eventually somebody figures out that there are chunks of asphalt in amongst the rocks. From there, it doesn't take the group long to work out that there is a road uphill from us, and that at some point part of it slipped into the creek. Eroded road, ha ha.
Upstream, we find a Pacific Giant Salamander nymph, sitting camouflaged in a deep, slow-moving section of the creek. The kids gather around to look.
The next step is to climb away from the creek bed via a steep little trail. We utilize tree roots as hand holds. Once out of the creek, we clamber up to the ranger road. We circle up in a nearby clearing and I make sure everybody is up to speed on the concept of photosynthesis. We then play a game called "race to the sun," which is a tree-building race where two kids try to get carbon dioxide and water molecules (played by the rest of the group) to link up and form trees. I play the sun. Whichever "tree" reaches me first wins.
Lesson over, we check out some nearby clusters of wintering ladybugs and a nearly two decade old landslide area. Then I hand out journals. The kids do the photosynthesis page.
Time is running out, so we walk down the ranger road towards camp. We play the "downhill game," during which nobody can touch each other unless I play some notes on my penny whistle. If they're still touching after I say "touch", or at any time other than right after they hear the penny whistle, they have to go to the back of the line. This is the only time in which Terra doesn't have to be at the back. I fool enough kids so that there is a steady flow of people heading towards the back of the line. Terra makes it about halfway towards the front before she makes a mistake and has to go back. At the bottom of the hill, I notice that it's only a couple of minutes before noon, so we stop playing the game and hurry back.
Lunch happens.
The afternoon hike starts at around 2, and the first thing we do is check the transpiration bags. They're full of water droplets. We discuss why.
I then give them a quick lesson on energy flow through food chains (energy is lost as it moves from trophic level to trophic level) and we play a quick game of telephone (meaning is lost as the sentence passes from camper to camper).
Then I tell the kids that we're going to do a community comparison study, starting with the chaparral. We hike to the chaparral, making note of some raccoon scat and deer tracks on the way. The kids get out their journals, and I divide our group into three. One group gets to use the light indicator/soil moisture probe, one group uses the sling sychrometer to test for humidity, and one group measures leaf size and thickness. This type of study is less effective in February than it is in the Spring or Summer months, due to uniform soil wetness and fog, but it's always good to let the kids use scientific instruments. The real fun begins when we get to search for animals. The categories in the journal are herbivore, carnivore, omnivore, and decomposer. We find a tailless Northern Alligator Lizard (a bit of a surprise in February), some California Newts, Slender Salamanders, and a small Tree Frog. Countless worms and beetles are also discovered. Jellyfish is nearby with his group, and they join us for awhile. Many pictures are taken. Most of them will be blurry because the kids have once again forgotten the focusing distance on their disposable cameras.
We hike to a nearby Redwood grove to see if our readings and findings will be any different. Temperature and humidity turn out to be a little different, but soil moisture is pretty much the same. We find a number of Ensatinas, and more California Newts. Time runs out, so we hike back to camp.
Since it's my night to work, I'm in charge of doing recess duty with Jellyfish. Cod helps out too. After the recess bell is rung and the cabin groups have assembled in the amphitheater, we review recess rules and call out the names of the kids who have discipline tasks. There are a lot of them, so after the other kids are dismissed to recess, we have the majority of the discipline kids set up the dining hall for dinner. I take a few of them around back to break down boxes for recycling. Recess is short today, because the hub host has to give the shower talk, so by the time the kids have finished their tasks, they have less than ten minutes of recess left. That will teach them not to mess up. After the bell rings, I write down my 4c choices for the day. I pick the girl who helped me do water testing in the creek, and a boy named Wolf who contributes to class discussions.
Then I have some down time. I check e-mail and call Jen. Camp Dinner tonight is baked potatoes and broccoli. The kids have chicken.
The minute the kids leave the dining hall, our lead teacher, Buzzard, Jellyfish, and I have to get things ready for the astronomy program. For Buzzard, that means setting up the astronomy Powerpoint presentation. For Jellyfish and I, that means folding the tables, pushing them up against the walls, and sweeping the floor.
A little before 7 PM, the bell rings, and all of the cabin groups assemble in the amphitheater. From there, I dismiss them one group at a time into the dining hall. Buzzard starts the presentation. I've seen it a million times, so I go outside to check on the cloud cover. The forecast said it would be about 83%. It is really about 100%. Not good for an astronomy program night. As the slideshow progresses, I listen to my I-pod and watch the skies. Towards the end, Orion appears, but then gets smothered behind a blanket of cloud again.
After the slideshow ends, I dismiss groups from the dining hall. Half of the groups I dismiss go to the lower field to do a planet walk with Buzzard (we have posts set up to show relative distances of our solar system's planets - this is our cloudy night alternative to telescopes). The other half also go to the lower field, but to Jellyfish for a constellation talk. I stay in the dining hall with the remaining groups, and we play a game called astronomy password. Actually two games, with some of the classroom teachers running the other one. I quickly figure out that these kids, most of them at least, are quite challenged when it comes to simple astronomy vocabulary. Despite this, we have a lot of fun.
Halfway through the remainder of the evening, there is a rotation during which the kids in the dining hall trade places with those on the lower field. I oversee another game of password.
Next, all groups again converge on the central amphitheater and I tell them a star creation myth (actually not a true myth, since I made it up last year, but people never complain). I finish at about 9:10, and our current night host, Nettle, takes it from there. Time to go home.
More to come...
On Tuesday, after dropping off four kids at school(it would have been five, but Willow is home with an earache), I arrive at work around 8:50. The bell for field class rings at about 9:00. Once all of the kids are at our meeting spot, we play a name game called zap. Then we put some small, clear plastic bags over the leaves of some nearby trees, fixing them in place with rubber bands. This is to illustrate that transpiration occurs. We will check the bags after lunch.
I hike the kids past the pond and we stop near the hostel again. Once we are circled up in a planet Earth, I place a large garbage back over a pile of rocks in the middle of the circle, making sure there is a depression in the middle. I then sprinkle dirt over it. This becomes my watershed model, and I use it to explain watersheds and erosion. I pick three volunteers to use their water bottles to make it "rain" on the model, and we all observe that the water collects in the center valley, taking the dirt with it. Discussion ensues. Afterwards, I hike them around the corner and down the trail to where the trail crosses over the creek. This area features a lot of Redwoods, and we see our first couple of Banana slugs for the week. The kids descend on them like paparazzi. At the creek, I demonstrate how to make face paint by rubbing wet sedimentary rocks together, which leads into an explanation about weathering. Not all of the kids want to get their hands wet. A camper named Redwood helps me test the water for pH, and I discover that the reading is somewhere around 8.2, which is more alkaline that I would have hoped. I wonder if the probe is malfunctioning. I briefly explain, pH, water testing in general, and tell the kids what a riparian community it is. Being long-winded, I launch into a talk about riparian corridors. The kids finish face-painting, I burden them with a few additional safety rules (watch out for wet and wobbly rocks, don't climb the embankments, walk in a single file line, help each other, avoid getting your feet wet...) and we start walking up the creek, crossing and recrossing it as we proceed. I stop at one point to challenge them to find something unnatural (make by humans) in the creek bed. Eventually somebody figures out that there are chunks of asphalt in amongst the rocks. From there, it doesn't take the group long to work out that there is a road uphill from us, and that at some point part of it slipped into the creek. Eroded road, ha ha.
Upstream, we find a Pacific Giant Salamander nymph, sitting camouflaged in a deep, slow-moving section of the creek. The kids gather around to look.
The next step is to climb away from the creek bed via a steep little trail. We utilize tree roots as hand holds. Once out of the creek, we clamber up to the ranger road. We circle up in a nearby clearing and I make sure everybody is up to speed on the concept of photosynthesis. We then play a game called "race to the sun," which is a tree-building race where two kids try to get carbon dioxide and water molecules (played by the rest of the group) to link up and form trees. I play the sun. Whichever "tree" reaches me first wins.
Lesson over, we check out some nearby clusters of wintering ladybugs and a nearly two decade old landslide area. Then I hand out journals. The kids do the photosynthesis page.
Time is running out, so we walk down the ranger road towards camp. We play the "downhill game," during which nobody can touch each other unless I play some notes on my penny whistle. If they're still touching after I say "touch", or at any time other than right after they hear the penny whistle, they have to go to the back of the line. This is the only time in which Terra doesn't have to be at the back. I fool enough kids so that there is a steady flow of people heading towards the back of the line. Terra makes it about halfway towards the front before she makes a mistake and has to go back. At the bottom of the hill, I notice that it's only a couple of minutes before noon, so we stop playing the game and hurry back.
Lunch happens.
The afternoon hike starts at around 2, and the first thing we do is check the transpiration bags. They're full of water droplets. We discuss why.
I then give them a quick lesson on energy flow through food chains (energy is lost as it moves from trophic level to trophic level) and we play a quick game of telephone (meaning is lost as the sentence passes from camper to camper).
Then I tell the kids that we're going to do a community comparison study, starting with the chaparral. We hike to the chaparral, making note of some raccoon scat and deer tracks on the way. The kids get out their journals, and I divide our group into three. One group gets to use the light indicator/soil moisture probe, one group uses the sling sychrometer to test for humidity, and one group measures leaf size and thickness. This type of study is less effective in February than it is in the Spring or Summer months, due to uniform soil wetness and fog, but it's always good to let the kids use scientific instruments. The real fun begins when we get to search for animals. The categories in the journal are herbivore, carnivore, omnivore, and decomposer. We find a tailless Northern Alligator Lizard (a bit of a surprise in February), some California Newts, Slender Salamanders, and a small Tree Frog. Countless worms and beetles are also discovered. Jellyfish is nearby with his group, and they join us for awhile. Many pictures are taken. Most of them will be blurry because the kids have once again forgotten the focusing distance on their disposable cameras.
We hike to a nearby Redwood grove to see if our readings and findings will be any different. Temperature and humidity turn out to be a little different, but soil moisture is pretty much the same. We find a number of Ensatinas, and more California Newts. Time runs out, so we hike back to camp.
Since it's my night to work, I'm in charge of doing recess duty with Jellyfish. Cod helps out too. After the recess bell is rung and the cabin groups have assembled in the amphitheater, we review recess rules and call out the names of the kids who have discipline tasks. There are a lot of them, so after the other kids are dismissed to recess, we have the majority of the discipline kids set up the dining hall for dinner. I take a few of them around back to break down boxes for recycling. Recess is short today, because the hub host has to give the shower talk, so by the time the kids have finished their tasks, they have less than ten minutes of recess left. That will teach them not to mess up. After the bell rings, I write down my 4c choices for the day. I pick the girl who helped me do water testing in the creek, and a boy named Wolf who contributes to class discussions.
Then I have some down time. I check e-mail and call Jen. Camp Dinner tonight is baked potatoes and broccoli. The kids have chicken.
The minute the kids leave the dining hall, our lead teacher, Buzzard, Jellyfish, and I have to get things ready for the astronomy program. For Buzzard, that means setting up the astronomy Powerpoint presentation. For Jellyfish and I, that means folding the tables, pushing them up against the walls, and sweeping the floor.
A little before 7 PM, the bell rings, and all of the cabin groups assemble in the amphitheater. From there, I dismiss them one group at a time into the dining hall. Buzzard starts the presentation. I've seen it a million times, so I go outside to check on the cloud cover. The forecast said it would be about 83%. It is really about 100%. Not good for an astronomy program night. As the slideshow progresses, I listen to my I-pod and watch the skies. Towards the end, Orion appears, but then gets smothered behind a blanket of cloud again.
After the slideshow ends, I dismiss groups from the dining hall. Half of the groups I dismiss go to the lower field to do a planet walk with Buzzard (we have posts set up to show relative distances of our solar system's planets - this is our cloudy night alternative to telescopes). The other half also go to the lower field, but to Jellyfish for a constellation talk. I stay in the dining hall with the remaining groups, and we play a game called astronomy password. Actually two games, with some of the classroom teachers running the other one. I quickly figure out that these kids, most of them at least, are quite challenged when it comes to simple astronomy vocabulary. Despite this, we have a lot of fun.
Halfway through the remainder of the evening, there is a rotation during which the kids in the dining hall trade places with those on the lower field. I oversee another game of password.
Next, all groups again converge on the central amphitheater and I tell them a star creation myth (actually not a true myth, since I made it up last year, but people never complain). I finish at about 9:10, and our current night host, Nettle, takes it from there. Time to go home.
More to come...
Saturday, February 10, 2007
I'm getting really bad about posting regular updates here. I've been focusing more on real life, I guess. Lately I've been feeling like it's time to forge ahead and stretch in some way, and the computer sometimes feels like the walls of a deep rut, with me at the bottom. It's easier to perform the same actions every day than it is to make change. Safer and more comforting too.
Anyway, I thought I'd share a snapshot of my work week. This is pretty much what I do from Monday to Friday on any given week. My job title is Environmental Education Specialist (sub). The "sub" means I don't currently get benefits, but work almost as much as the permanents. There are around eight permanent positions, but seventeen of us are needed to accommodate the number of campers when both or our sites are running. Each week, there are usually between 100 and 200 kids who arrive with their classroom teachers on Monday morning and stay in cabins until they leave a little before noon on Friday.
Monday morning - At around 8:40 Am, I arrive at work, an unnamed outdoor school somewhere in the Santa Cruz mountains. I'm usually one of the first people there on Monday, which gives me the opportunity to sign up for a meeting spot (a place to meet with our field group for the week). This week I choose a circle of stumps known as the "Lorax circle." I also sign up for some trails for the Monday afternoon hike and gather field journals for my group, guessing that I'll have 21 or 22 kids. For the Tuesday through Thursday hikes, there is a rotating sign-up order. I'm somewhere in the middle this week. My coworkers start filtering in, and soon it's time to meet with this week's cabin leaders (teen volunteers who will be heading up cabin groups and helping out with the field classes). Today, we meet outside the staff room near the basketball hoop. The staff introduces themselves first, each giving a piece of advice to the cabin leaders. My piece of advice this week is something about leading by example. After the staff has gone around the circle (oh yeah, we're all sitting in a circle, known hereafter as a "planet earth"), the cabin leaders introduce themselves and briefly tell us about what they like doing with their spare time. After this, we find out which cabin leader(s) will be hiking with us during field class. This week I am paired with a girl named Terra (oh yeah, we're all using "nature names" - mine is Crow). Terra hasn't volunteered with us before, but is really enthusiastic and generally seems to exude good energy. She's excited for the week to begin. At around this time, the buses arrive. Only one school is coming this week (sometimes there are as many as five different schools) and it's a middle school - sixth graders. The people who are working the Monday night program (we all work the Wednesday night night hike, and then sign up to work one other night every week, with the occasional night off) greet the buses and make sure the luggage and lunches are unloaded. The rest of us conclude our meetings with cabin leaders and lead tours of the site for the incoming students, showing them the cabins, schedule board area, the hub (camp office) and or course, the bathrooms. After everybody has taken a tour, the bell is rung and everybody converges on the cement steps of the main amphitheater for introductions and the general meeting. Once everybody is settled, we sing a song called chabuya, which involves each staff member introducing him/herself via a little rhyme. The rhyme I currently use is My name is Crow/I'm a scavenger/I'm a bit smarter/than the average bird. The first one I ever came up with, but wisely decided not to actually use, was My name is Crow/and I eat the dead/if you mess with me/I'll peck your head. The kids sing along. Various staff members pull out drums and guitars. Lately we've been using a cowbell too. After the song, we go over the camp rules and introduce the cabin leaders. The staff members signed up for the Thursday night program lead the general meeting, explaining our discipline system and our positive reinforcement strategy. The discipline system is pretty simple - if a camper does something bad, his or her name goes on a clipboard. The first time it happens, the camper gets a warning, the second time it happens, they get a check mark and we take away ten minutes of recess time and replace it with a task (breaking down boxes, sharpening pencils, picking up trash, etc.). Two checks means a fifteen minute task. Three checks means a fifteen minute task, a call home, and the student has to write a contract, the breaking of which means getting kicked out of camp. We don't like kicking people out, so there is a little wiggle room. On the other end of the spectrum, a camper who does something good might get a 4c award (contribution, cooperation, consideration, and conservation). While the Thursday staff does this, the rest of us continue to get things in order for field class, with an occasional detour into the computer lab to check e-mail. After the general meeting, the kids move into cabins and field staff get their class lists. After allowing some move-in time, we ring a bell to call the kids back to the amphitheater. From there we read out the names of the kids who are in our groups, and take them to our meeting spots. I have 21 kids on my list. Some of them have names I can't pronounce. I do my best. This week all of my kids hear their names correctly and I don't have to radio around to find any (we all carry radios - the expensive police-issue kind). The first thing I do when we all sit down on the stumps at the Lorax circle is go over the list again. I ask the kids to tell me three things when I call out their names: 1 - the correct pronunciation of their name (if I got it wrong), 2 - what they want their nature name (nickname) to be for the week (I explain to them that they can't name themselves after anything made by human beings, so names like "asphalt" and "port-a-potty" are out), and 3- what they are most looking forward to at science camp. About 80% of the kids know what they want their nicknames to be. One kid wants to be called "Booger" and I let him because I think it's funny. The only other odd name is Snow Wabbit (with a "w", the kid says). No reptile names this week, which is good. I really like reptiles, but for some reason, whenever a kid picks a nature name like "snake" or "cobra" he (almost always a boy) ends up being a troublemaker. After all of the name checking is done, I go over my expectations for the week (respect each other, be nice, listen when others are talking, don't pick up sticks and rocks, stay with the group, etc.) and what to bring to field class (water bottles, long pants, good shoes, etc.). Then we talk about how to go to the bathroom in the woods (we have code names for this - chasing coyotes and bears). I end the meeting with a quick little trail-safety activity called a "danger hike," which involves me placing a piece of laminated paper face-down in front of each camper. Most of the pieces of paper say, safe-just duff (duff being a term for leaf litter, just in case you thought it was the beer they drink on The Simpsons). The idea behind the game is that students aren't supposed to go off trails during hikes. I tell them that most of the time nothing happens when somebody goes off trail (hence the "safe-just duff" cards), but the potential for danger is always there. There are about ten cards that have consequences/dangers of going off trail written on them, including things like stepped in a Yellowjacket nest (I've had that happen three times over the last two and a half years), stepped on a newt, touched Poison Oak, touched Stinging Nettle, stepped in scat, etc. The kids always like getting the cards with the bad things written on them, but it does make them aware of why we have rules about staying on the trails during hikes. By the time we finish the activity, we're slightly late for the lunch/recycling talk back at the main amphitheater. The people who get the night off (only working one night program) are in charge of doing the lunch/recycling talk. The rest of us go into the dining hall to eat lunch and meet the teachers. I recognize some of the teachers from last year, but we go around the table and make formal introductions. We have a couple of new field instructors, and there are a couple of teachers up at camp for the first time as well. After lunch, we go out and supervise the clean up and in the amphitheater. The kids have been told to separate their waste into plastic/glass, aluminum, paper, compost, landfill, and good food (any food that they brought with them for lunch but didn't eat is placed in a crate and taken to the staff room so the cabins won't be crawling with opportunistic wildlife at night). This is often the hardest part of the week, trying to get the kids to stop, read the helpful signs we've tacked to the supports of the picnic shelter area, and put their stuff in the proper bins.
After lunch is done, the hub host (this week it's Rain -this is another rotating job, which more accurately could be called "camp coordinator") introduces herself and we sing a couple of songs - Banana Slug (to the tune of La Bamba) and Evil Waste (to the tune of Santana's Evil Ways). Afterwards, we retire to the staff room to go over medical lists. The medical lists are just that - lists of known medical problems for this week's campers. Any other relevant information, such as behavior problems, is also covered. This week I get off lightly. I only have one camper on my list with any sort of problem at all, and all she has is mild asthma. After this, we have some down time, which I use to cut pictures out of old calendars with the intention of eventually using them to make new solo-hike cards. Several other staff members are doing the same thing. We share calendars.
2:00 PM - the afternoon field class starts. We all go to the amphitheater to collect our kids. This will be the first time that Terra meets our group. Also along for this hike is Sycamore, who is another new staff member. He wants to observe my lessons for the afternoon. I start class by writing down the nature names of the people who couldn't decide earlier. I do some quick , interactive definitions of words like ecosystem, habitat, and interrelationships. I try to explain interrelationships by having the kids stand back to front in a circle and all sit down in each other's laps. It doesn't work too well. I make a note to go back to my old method (using Kapla blocks) of explaining this.
We start the hike by crossing the meadow (under which lies the San Andreas fault) and stopping near the pond. There is a California Newt in the water, and a couple of Mallards paddling through the duckweed. We talk about invasive species, since the pond is also home to Bullfrogs. The kids take pictures.
The next stop is over by the youth hostel - a genuine Redwood log cabin - where we do a couple of name games (instant replay, followed by a group juggle) so that people will start remembering nature names.
Afterwards, I walk them to the other side of the hostel. All along, I've been using our basic call and response (I say "banana", to which the kids reply "slug") to focus the kids when I have something to say. I hear Booger's voice after everybody has said "slug." I take his name as an example. He gets quiet. Near the hostel's slide and volleyball net, I do a quick lesson on the F.B.I. One kid already knows that I'm not talking about the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and properly identifies the F as Fungus and the B as Bacteria. A couple of other kids chime in and pretty soon the figure that the I stands for Invertebrates. I talk about what a niche is, and explain that the F.B.I.'s niche (or job) is to decompose dead material and return nutrients to the soil. I pass around a covered petri dish of bacteria that I'd grown in my bacteria farm in the linen closet at home. The kids think it's cool. I then pull over a nearby log and we discover some fungus. I talk about what it is doing to the log. I'm hoping to find a millipede or other invertebrate decomposer, but strike out with the other logs, only finding a couple of Slender Salamanders. I use trail hands (picking up the dirt under the salamander to avoid actually touching it with my hands - salamanders are sensitive creatures) to pick up the salamander and bring it around the circle to show the kids. They all try to take pictures of it from inches away with their disposable cameras. I remind them that the focusing range is about three feet. Most of them adjust their distance. I put the salamander back near its hiding place, making sure the kids notice that I'm not dropping the log back on top of it, but rather letting the salamander make its own way back under the log.
We vacate the area and walk up a trail called Washout due to a section of it being washed out. There is also a relatively new fallen tree covering part of the trail. We step carefully over and around it. I point out some Poison Oak and some more fungus on the way. When we arrive at Douglas Fir Junction, I decide that we don't have time to play "Meet a Tree" (a game where the kids break off into pairs and take turns blindfolding each other and leading each other to nearby trees - the object being that, after being led back to the starting point and having the blindfold removed, the blindfolded kid must guess which tree he/she was led to).
We turn north and end up back on the lower field near camp. I teach the kids a game (modeled after "red light/green light") called "king snake/coral snake," designed to teach about mimicry. The only main difference between this game and "red light/green light" is that instead of saying "red light" or "green light" I hold up king snake or coral snake patterns taped to the back of a pair of dry erase boards (aka white boards). The kids run and have fun. Then class is over.
Back at camp, I release the kids to their cabins and pick a couple of kids to give 4c awards to . I pick a girl named Grey Fox, who was participating well, and Terra suggests a boy named Snow Leopard. I write something nice about them on the 4c list. Later, the hub host will read the list out loud in front of the assembled kids. Public recognition is good for the ego.
The Monday night staff pull the fire alarm for the fire drill. The Tuesday night staff, Jellyfish and I, are in charge of checking in with the cabin leaders once all of the cabin groups are safely down on the lower field, which is currently serving as our go-to location for emergencies. Everybody is there. I go home. It is approximately 4:10 PM.
To be continued...
Anyway, I thought I'd share a snapshot of my work week. This is pretty much what I do from Monday to Friday on any given week. My job title is Environmental Education Specialist (sub). The "sub" means I don't currently get benefits, but work almost as much as the permanents. There are around eight permanent positions, but seventeen of us are needed to accommodate the number of campers when both or our sites are running. Each week, there are usually between 100 and 200 kids who arrive with their classroom teachers on Monday morning and stay in cabins until they leave a little before noon on Friday.
Monday morning - At around 8:40 Am, I arrive at work, an unnamed outdoor school somewhere in the Santa Cruz mountains. I'm usually one of the first people there on Monday, which gives me the opportunity to sign up for a meeting spot (a place to meet with our field group for the week). This week I choose a circle of stumps known as the "Lorax circle." I also sign up for some trails for the Monday afternoon hike and gather field journals for my group, guessing that I'll have 21 or 22 kids. For the Tuesday through Thursday hikes, there is a rotating sign-up order. I'm somewhere in the middle this week. My coworkers start filtering in, and soon it's time to meet with this week's cabin leaders (teen volunteers who will be heading up cabin groups and helping out with the field classes). Today, we meet outside the staff room near the basketball hoop. The staff introduces themselves first, each giving a piece of advice to the cabin leaders. My piece of advice this week is something about leading by example. After the staff has gone around the circle (oh yeah, we're all sitting in a circle, known hereafter as a "planet earth"), the cabin leaders introduce themselves and briefly tell us about what they like doing with their spare time. After this, we find out which cabin leader(s) will be hiking with us during field class. This week I am paired with a girl named Terra (oh yeah, we're all using "nature names" - mine is Crow). Terra hasn't volunteered with us before, but is really enthusiastic and generally seems to exude good energy. She's excited for the week to begin. At around this time, the buses arrive. Only one school is coming this week (sometimes there are as many as five different schools) and it's a middle school - sixth graders. The people who are working the Monday night program (we all work the Wednesday night night hike, and then sign up to work one other night every week, with the occasional night off) greet the buses and make sure the luggage and lunches are unloaded. The rest of us conclude our meetings with cabin leaders and lead tours of the site for the incoming students, showing them the cabins, schedule board area, the hub (camp office) and or course, the bathrooms. After everybody has taken a tour, the bell is rung and everybody converges on the cement steps of the main amphitheater for introductions and the general meeting. Once everybody is settled, we sing a song called chabuya, which involves each staff member introducing him/herself via a little rhyme. The rhyme I currently use is My name is Crow/I'm a scavenger/I'm a bit smarter/than the average bird. The first one I ever came up with, but wisely decided not to actually use, was My name is Crow/and I eat the dead/if you mess with me/I'll peck your head. The kids sing along. Various staff members pull out drums and guitars. Lately we've been using a cowbell too. After the song, we go over the camp rules and introduce the cabin leaders. The staff members signed up for the Thursday night program lead the general meeting, explaining our discipline system and our positive reinforcement strategy. The discipline system is pretty simple - if a camper does something bad, his or her name goes on a clipboard. The first time it happens, the camper gets a warning, the second time it happens, they get a check mark and we take away ten minutes of recess time and replace it with a task (breaking down boxes, sharpening pencils, picking up trash, etc.). Two checks means a fifteen minute task. Three checks means a fifteen minute task, a call home, and the student has to write a contract, the breaking of which means getting kicked out of camp. We don't like kicking people out, so there is a little wiggle room. On the other end of the spectrum, a camper who does something good might get a 4c award (contribution, cooperation, consideration, and conservation). While the Thursday staff does this, the rest of us continue to get things in order for field class, with an occasional detour into the computer lab to check e-mail. After the general meeting, the kids move into cabins and field staff get their class lists. After allowing some move-in time, we ring a bell to call the kids back to the amphitheater. From there we read out the names of the kids who are in our groups, and take them to our meeting spots. I have 21 kids on my list. Some of them have names I can't pronounce. I do my best. This week all of my kids hear their names correctly and I don't have to radio around to find any (we all carry radios - the expensive police-issue kind). The first thing I do when we all sit down on the stumps at the Lorax circle is go over the list again. I ask the kids to tell me three things when I call out their names: 1 - the correct pronunciation of their name (if I got it wrong), 2 - what they want their nature name (nickname) to be for the week (I explain to them that they can't name themselves after anything made by human beings, so names like "asphalt" and "port-a-potty" are out), and 3- what they are most looking forward to at science camp. About 80% of the kids know what they want their nicknames to be. One kid wants to be called "Booger" and I let him because I think it's funny. The only other odd name is Snow Wabbit (with a "w", the kid says). No reptile names this week, which is good. I really like reptiles, but for some reason, whenever a kid picks a nature name like "snake" or "cobra" he (almost always a boy) ends up being a troublemaker. After all of the name checking is done, I go over my expectations for the week (respect each other, be nice, listen when others are talking, don't pick up sticks and rocks, stay with the group, etc.) and what to bring to field class (water bottles, long pants, good shoes, etc.). Then we talk about how to go to the bathroom in the woods (we have code names for this - chasing coyotes and bears). I end the meeting with a quick little trail-safety activity called a "danger hike," which involves me placing a piece of laminated paper face-down in front of each camper. Most of the pieces of paper say, safe-just duff (duff being a term for leaf litter, just in case you thought it was the beer they drink on The Simpsons). The idea behind the game is that students aren't supposed to go off trails during hikes. I tell them that most of the time nothing happens when somebody goes off trail (hence the "safe-just duff" cards), but the potential for danger is always there. There are about ten cards that have consequences/dangers of going off trail written on them, including things like stepped in a Yellowjacket nest (I've had that happen three times over the last two and a half years), stepped on a newt, touched Poison Oak, touched Stinging Nettle, stepped in scat, etc. The kids always like getting the cards with the bad things written on them, but it does make them aware of why we have rules about staying on the trails during hikes. By the time we finish the activity, we're slightly late for the lunch/recycling talk back at the main amphitheater. The people who get the night off (only working one night program) are in charge of doing the lunch/recycling talk. The rest of us go into the dining hall to eat lunch and meet the teachers. I recognize some of the teachers from last year, but we go around the table and make formal introductions. We have a couple of new field instructors, and there are a couple of teachers up at camp for the first time as well. After lunch, we go out and supervise the clean up and in the amphitheater. The kids have been told to separate their waste into plastic/glass, aluminum, paper, compost, landfill, and good food (any food that they brought with them for lunch but didn't eat is placed in a crate and taken to the staff room so the cabins won't be crawling with opportunistic wildlife at night). This is often the hardest part of the week, trying to get the kids to stop, read the helpful signs we've tacked to the supports of the picnic shelter area, and put their stuff in the proper bins.
After lunch is done, the hub host (this week it's Rain -this is another rotating job, which more accurately could be called "camp coordinator") introduces herself and we sing a couple of songs - Banana Slug (to the tune of La Bamba) and Evil Waste (to the tune of Santana's Evil Ways). Afterwards, we retire to the staff room to go over medical lists. The medical lists are just that - lists of known medical problems for this week's campers. Any other relevant information, such as behavior problems, is also covered. This week I get off lightly. I only have one camper on my list with any sort of problem at all, and all she has is mild asthma. After this, we have some down time, which I use to cut pictures out of old calendars with the intention of eventually using them to make new solo-hike cards. Several other staff members are doing the same thing. We share calendars.
2:00 PM - the afternoon field class starts. We all go to the amphitheater to collect our kids. This will be the first time that Terra meets our group. Also along for this hike is Sycamore, who is another new staff member. He wants to observe my lessons for the afternoon. I start class by writing down the nature names of the people who couldn't decide earlier. I do some quick , interactive definitions of words like ecosystem, habitat, and interrelationships. I try to explain interrelationships by having the kids stand back to front in a circle and all sit down in each other's laps. It doesn't work too well. I make a note to go back to my old method (using Kapla blocks) of explaining this.
We start the hike by crossing the meadow (under which lies the San Andreas fault) and stopping near the pond. There is a California Newt in the water, and a couple of Mallards paddling through the duckweed. We talk about invasive species, since the pond is also home to Bullfrogs. The kids take pictures.
The next stop is over by the youth hostel - a genuine Redwood log cabin - where we do a couple of name games (instant replay, followed by a group juggle) so that people will start remembering nature names.
Afterwards, I walk them to the other side of the hostel. All along, I've been using our basic call and response (I say "banana", to which the kids reply "slug") to focus the kids when I have something to say. I hear Booger's voice after everybody has said "slug." I take his name as an example. He gets quiet. Near the hostel's slide and volleyball net, I do a quick lesson on the F.B.I. One kid already knows that I'm not talking about the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and properly identifies the F as Fungus and the B as Bacteria. A couple of other kids chime in and pretty soon the figure that the I stands for Invertebrates. I talk about what a niche is, and explain that the F.B.I.'s niche (or job) is to decompose dead material and return nutrients to the soil. I pass around a covered petri dish of bacteria that I'd grown in my bacteria farm in the linen closet at home. The kids think it's cool. I then pull over a nearby log and we discover some fungus. I talk about what it is doing to the log. I'm hoping to find a millipede or other invertebrate decomposer, but strike out with the other logs, only finding a couple of Slender Salamanders. I use trail hands (picking up the dirt under the salamander to avoid actually touching it with my hands - salamanders are sensitive creatures) to pick up the salamander and bring it around the circle to show the kids. They all try to take pictures of it from inches away with their disposable cameras. I remind them that the focusing range is about three feet. Most of them adjust their distance. I put the salamander back near its hiding place, making sure the kids notice that I'm not dropping the log back on top of it, but rather letting the salamander make its own way back under the log.
We vacate the area and walk up a trail called Washout due to a section of it being washed out. There is also a relatively new fallen tree covering part of the trail. We step carefully over and around it. I point out some Poison Oak and some more fungus on the way. When we arrive at Douglas Fir Junction, I decide that we don't have time to play "Meet a Tree" (a game where the kids break off into pairs and take turns blindfolding each other and leading each other to nearby trees - the object being that, after being led back to the starting point and having the blindfold removed, the blindfolded kid must guess which tree he/she was led to).
We turn north and end up back on the lower field near camp. I teach the kids a game (modeled after "red light/green light") called "king snake/coral snake," designed to teach about mimicry. The only main difference between this game and "red light/green light" is that instead of saying "red light" or "green light" I hold up king snake or coral snake patterns taped to the back of a pair of dry erase boards (aka white boards). The kids run and have fun. Then class is over.
Back at camp, I release the kids to their cabins and pick a couple of kids to give 4c awards to . I pick a girl named Grey Fox, who was participating well, and Terra suggests a boy named Snow Leopard. I write something nice about them on the 4c list. Later, the hub host will read the list out loud in front of the assembled kids. Public recognition is good for the ego.
The Monday night staff pull the fire alarm for the fire drill. The Tuesday night staff, Jellyfish and I, are in charge of checking in with the cabin leaders once all of the cabin groups are safely down on the lower field, which is currently serving as our go-to location for emergencies. Everybody is there. I go home. It is approximately 4:10 PM.
To be continued...
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Definitely Not Newt-ered.
It's been a busy weekend again. I led an extra night hike on Friday night for some high school kids from the Silicon Valley chapter of the NAACP. Due to time constraints, it was only about 45 minutes long. We were slowed by rain, which brought the California Newts onto the trail. I had to move 21 of them out of the way as we walked.
Then, this morning, I went back and helped supervise a pond/stream study with the same kids. This is when we discovered the ball of newts pictured here. It made the kids giggle. Again though, we only had about 45 minutes to do our thing, so the whole activity was rather rushed. Still, we had fun and the pay was quite good. The group is building up towards doing a creek clean-up project later this year, and possibly other stewardship projects. Good for them!
After I got back home, we finally got the girls out of the house and took them to the children's museum, where they got to play for a couple of hours. We are often guilty of not planning ahead for weekends and letting them slide by without the kids getting out of the house. That's what we get for being too busy to think.
Then, this morning, I went back and helped supervise a pond/stream study with the same kids. This is when we discovered the ball of newts pictured here. It made the kids giggle. Again though, we only had about 45 minutes to do our thing, so the whole activity was rather rushed. Still, we had fun and the pay was quite good. The group is building up towards doing a creek clean-up project later this year, and possibly other stewardship projects. Good for them!
After I got back home, we finally got the girls out of the house and took them to the children's museum, where they got to play for a couple of hours. We are often guilty of not planning ahead for weekends and letting them slide by without the kids getting out of the house. That's what we get for being too busy to think.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Curly Tail
This is an Arboreal salamander. It demonstrated its climbing skill for us by using its little toes to easily grip the vertical side of the rock we found it under. I've only found a few other Arboreals, and this one is by far the biggest and prettiest. I also have vague memories of finding one of these when I was a little science camper myself. This gets "find of the week" status.
The same day we found this, I saw another Coyote, this time from my car. I managed to get a bad photo of its butt.
The kids this week are an interesting mixture of good students and slackers, but then that's pretty much always the case. I've been both myself. I did have a good exchange with one boy as we passed some of the large, mansion-like houses on the way back from the reservoir today. I asked him if he would like to live in a house like that, and he replied that it would be a waste of money, and that he would like to live in something much smaller. It's refreshing to know that some kids realize that bigger is not always better.
The same day we found this, I saw another Coyote, this time from my car. I managed to get a bad photo of its butt.
The kids this week are an interesting mixture of good students and slackers, but then that's pretty much always the case. I've been both myself. I did have a good exchange with one boy as we passed some of the large, mansion-like houses on the way back from the reservoir today. I asked him if he would like to live in a house like that, and he replied that it would be a waste of money, and that he would like to live in something much smaller. It's refreshing to know that some kids realize that bigger is not always better.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
...Nevermore
The ravens have been hanging around a lot lately. We often hear them croaking from up in the branches of a big Douglas Fir tree over near the garden. Today a pair of them decided to spend some time on the roof above the girls' shower room. They didn't hang around long after I noticed them. They're too smart to have anything to do with human beings.
Speaking of smart, the guy who modified the sign pictured in this post left a comment. Small world.
Speaking of smart, the guy who modified the sign pictured in this post left a comment. Small world.
Yesterday, I spent a few hours at a first aid/CPR class hosted by my weekend job. This is a good thing for a couple of reasons: Since I work with children, I need to have first aid/CPR certification for both jobs, and I would hate not knowing how to help somebody I love should that need ever arise. The funniest thing we learned was that occasionally somebody will call 411 to ask what the number to 911 is.
Perhaps these people needed somebody to remind them how to breathe. I can envision the conversation now. "Was that in and out, or in, in, and then halfway out. Do I need to be standing on my head while doing this?"
Perhaps these people needed somebody to remind them how to breathe. I can envision the conversation now. "Was that in and out, or in, in, and then halfway out. Do I need to be standing on my head while doing this?"
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
A coworker got rear-ended while stopped at a stoplight on her way to work today. What made this accident particularly outrageous is that the woman who hit her not only finished the phone call she was in the middle of when the accident happened, but actually made a second call before dealing with the matter at hand. She never even asked my coworker if she was hurt (thankfully she wasn't).
I would have been tempted to grab her little phone and bounce it off the asphalt.
On a brighter note, we saw a coyote during field class today. I'd say about two thirds of the kids got to see it before it disappeared up the hill. I think our group must have awakened it from where it was sleeping in a stand of Redwoods off the side of the trail. It didn't stick around. Some of the kids thought it was a fox. Of course, some of the kids this week have asked if they are likely to get eaten by bears while on a hike.
I would have been tempted to grab her little phone and bounce it off the asphalt.
On a brighter note, we saw a coyote during field class today. I'd say about two thirds of the kids got to see it before it disappeared up the hill. I think our group must have awakened it from where it was sleeping in a stand of Redwoods off the side of the trail. It didn't stick around. Some of the kids thought it was a fox. Of course, some of the kids this week have asked if they are likely to get eaten by bears while on a hike.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Ice
For the first time in my memory, the pond at work froze. Many of you reading this (all 2 or 3 of you) might find this a non-topic, but you've got to remember that this is California we're talking about here. Things don't often freeze in California, unless you're up in the mountains. Of course, the ice is only about a centimeter thick, but I was still pretty excited to see it. Maybe it will kill the duckweed.
Tonight it's raining, which sort of caught us by surprise. We had to interrupt the campfire program and shift all of the kids out of the amphitheater and into the picnic shelter. Our boss called to warn us to be careful of ice on the road, and sure enough there was some just where she said there would be. Road crews had thoughtfully scattered sand across it to improve traction, but I still slid a tiny bit. I drive like a Californian, I guess. Ice doesn't often figure into the equation around here.
Tonight it's raining, which sort of caught us by surprise. We had to interrupt the campfire program and shift all of the kids out of the amphitheater and into the picnic shelter. Our boss called to warn us to be careful of ice on the road, and sure enough there was some just where she said there would be. Road crews had thoughtfully scattered sand across it to improve traction, but I still slid a tiny bit. I drive like a Californian, I guess. Ice doesn't often figure into the equation around here.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
The girls got new toys today, and we picked up some movies too, which meant that we had to spend a fair amount of time cutting plastic, untaping cardboard, and peeling away little strips of adhesive. The process left us with a heap of detritus destined for the recycling bins and trash can. This reminded me of a conversation I had with my mom a couple of weeks ago, when she mentioned that her mom, who lived on Cape Cod, didn't have garbage service. Instead, she had to go to the landfill when her garbage can was full. For her, this served as bonus social time. For most people however, I'm sure the idea of weekly dump visits would rank right down there with emergency dentistry or cleaning under the refrigerator.
That got me to thinking. If I was king (no elected official could hope to get away with this) I would remove all garbage service, making it necessary for everybody to drive their garbage and recycling to a central location, be it the landfill or a recycling facility. In a short amount of time, people would stop buying products with excessive packaging. If alternatives to certain products weren't an option, angry letters would be generated. Campaigns would be mounted and boycotts put in effect. Companies would stop wasting resources.
It would even be worth the additional fuel consumption required to make it happen. In fact, the extra expenditure on gas would get people even more worked up and lead to even more immediate results.
Think about it for a moment. Think of the resources that are squandered to make sure your purchases aren't nicked or dinged. Think about products like lunchables, where you end up with more plastic and cardboard than you do food (calling what lies within "food" is kind of stretching the definition anyway). Think about this the next time you have to find the scissors to cut through molded plastic. Lets not even get started on toys that are so trussed up as to appear inappropriate for their intended demographic.
Sure, we have made some headway. Anybody remember when cds came in longboxes? Of course, that was so they would fit in the same shelves that once held records. Pubic outcry, if I remember it right, was at least partially responsible for the end of the longbox. Some companies even offer customers the option of less (or no) packaging. I got a cool little tripod (or Gorillapod, as it is called) for Christmas from Jen, which if funny because I got one for her too. When I ordered it for her, I was able to pick the cheaper no-packaging option. This is good. More companies should do this.
Anyway, if I were king, people would really think twice about buying anything with packaging. Who wants to have to drive to the dump or the recycling center every week? Companies, faced with boycotts and angry letters, would have to change in order to survive.
But I'm not king, am I? I'm just one more person typing away in the middle of the night when he should be doing something more productive. Or maybe this is productive. If you're reading this, think about looking for more minimally packaged alternatives the next time you go shopping. Hit them where it hurts.
That got me to thinking. If I was king (no elected official could hope to get away with this) I would remove all garbage service, making it necessary for everybody to drive their garbage and recycling to a central location, be it the landfill or a recycling facility. In a short amount of time, people would stop buying products with excessive packaging. If alternatives to certain products weren't an option, angry letters would be generated. Campaigns would be mounted and boycotts put in effect. Companies would stop wasting resources.
It would even be worth the additional fuel consumption required to make it happen. In fact, the extra expenditure on gas would get people even more worked up and lead to even more immediate results.
Think about it for a moment. Think of the resources that are squandered to make sure your purchases aren't nicked or dinged. Think about products like lunchables, where you end up with more plastic and cardboard than you do food (calling what lies within "food" is kind of stretching the definition anyway). Think about this the next time you have to find the scissors to cut through molded plastic. Lets not even get started on toys that are so trussed up as to appear inappropriate for their intended demographic.
Sure, we have made some headway. Anybody remember when cds came in longboxes? Of course, that was so they would fit in the same shelves that once held records. Pubic outcry, if I remember it right, was at least partially responsible for the end of the longbox. Some companies even offer customers the option of less (or no) packaging. I got a cool little tripod (or Gorillapod, as it is called) for Christmas from Jen, which if funny because I got one for her too. When I ordered it for her, I was able to pick the cheaper no-packaging option. This is good. More companies should do this.
Anyway, if I were king, people would really think twice about buying anything with packaging. Who wants to have to drive to the dump or the recycling center every week? Companies, faced with boycotts and angry letters, would have to change in order to survive.
But I'm not king, am I? I'm just one more person typing away in the middle of the night when he should be doing something more productive. Or maybe this is productive. If you're reading this, think about looking for more minimally packaged alternatives the next time you go shopping. Hit them where it hurts.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Frosty Leaf
We're already eleven days into the new year and for some reason I haven't found the time or inclination to post here. I've been thinking about what I want to accomplish this year, artistically and otherwise. So far it's all just ideas scrabbling for purchase inside my head: ideas for novels, ideas for teaching, ideas about time and money and whipping the house into shape. In the midst of all of this mental activity, reality squats like a vaguely sinister pagan idol. People keep getting sick. Work demands time and energy. The house keeps mysteriously uncleaning itself. Kids demand water when I'm in the middle of typing a post... *sigh* I'll be right back.
Okay, where was I? I started the year out in the usual way, playing music at midnight with Matt and Greg. This year we drove out to Almaden Quicksilver park and crawled up inside one of the old cement towers (damned if I can remember what their role in the quicksilver mining process was) left over from the mining days. The tower serves quite well as an echo chamber, and we spent about 45 to 50 minutes monkeying around inside it before calling it a night. At home, Jen stayed up with the boys and an ear infection. New Year's Day found us all hanging around and doing nothing in particular (besides cooking, eating, and going to the park). It was a good way to get the 2007 ball rolling.
The ball rolled right into the work week for me, and that work week rolled into the next. This week is what most of the staff refer to as "all saints week" due to the fact that five different catholic schools are staying at camp. We're teaching them evolution anyway. Some of them sure are homesick though. Tonight's their last night before getting to go home and see their families again, so if they can survive the below freezing temperatures (the picture at the top was taken at noon today) and lack of mommies and daddies overnight, they'll see their families tomorrow.
Oh, and a belated happy new year to all. Jen informs me that this is national delurking week, so if you're one of the handful of people who visits this page, feel free to say hello.
Okay, where was I? I started the year out in the usual way, playing music at midnight with Matt and Greg. This year we drove out to Almaden Quicksilver park and crawled up inside one of the old cement towers (damned if I can remember what their role in the quicksilver mining process was) left over from the mining days. The tower serves quite well as an echo chamber, and we spent about 45 to 50 minutes monkeying around inside it before calling it a night. At home, Jen stayed up with the boys and an ear infection. New Year's Day found us all hanging around and doing nothing in particular (besides cooking, eating, and going to the park). It was a good way to get the 2007 ball rolling.
The ball rolled right into the work week for me, and that work week rolled into the next. This week is what most of the staff refer to as "all saints week" due to the fact that five different catholic schools are staying at camp. We're teaching them evolution anyway. Some of them sure are homesick though. Tonight's their last night before getting to go home and see their families again, so if they can survive the below freezing temperatures (the picture at the top was taken at noon today) and lack of mommies and daddies overnight, they'll see their families tomorrow.
Oh, and a belated happy new year to all. Jen informs me that this is national delurking week, so if you're one of the handful of people who visits this page, feel free to say hello.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
I added a link to my music blog on the sidebar. Why more than one blog, you might ask? I figured there have to be at least a few people who read this one who really don't share my musical tastes and can't be bothered to suffer through my endless obsessing over music. Now you don't have to worry. My music writing has been assigned its own ghetto.
Jen's on a secret mission right now, and the kids have friends over, so I'd better go make sure the rest of the house is still standing. Be good to one another.
Jen's on a secret mission right now, and the kids have friends over, so I'd better go make sure the rest of the house is still standing. Be good to one another.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Iguana In The Tree
The iguana's Christmas present was a mini-vacation up inside the Christmas tree. He loves climbing trees, but is afraid to go outside, so the opportunity to climb an inside tree means a lot to him.
Oh, the the people got lots of cool stuff too. We also got (and still get) to hang out with loved ones.
Merry Christmas. Hope you all aren't too bloated with consumption.
Oh, the the people got lots of cool stuff too. We also got (and still get) to hang out with loved ones.
Merry Christmas. Hope you all aren't too bloated with consumption.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
I keep thinking that it's later than it is. Today is gray, with occasional rain. Jen is out doing errands. Sophie is on a play date. The rest of us are home. Off and on, I've been listening to the cds I've picked up at the Tower Records going-out-of-business sale. I've managed to put a sizeable dent in my want list, and picked up a few other things I've been curious about, all for very little money. At the moment, everything is a dollar. If you're reading this before the end of the day today, run on down to your nearest Tower and check it out. There are actually still (in my opinion, anyway) some good cds left.
To nobody's surprise (at least not to those who know me), much of the music I bought fits the mood evoked by gray, rainy days. It's going to take a little while for all of this music to sink in. I hope the days stay gray. It's comforting somehow.
Unfortunately, all of this music consumption reminds me that I've been stuck in a creative rut myself. I haven't drawn or written much (outside of blogging) lately. I think most of my extra energy is spent on work and family. In fact, Willow is in the room now, so I'm going to hang out with her now.
To nobody's surprise (at least not to those who know me), much of the music I bought fits the mood evoked by gray, rainy days. It's going to take a little while for all of this music to sink in. I hope the days stay gray. It's comforting somehow.
Unfortunately, all of this music consumption reminds me that I've been stuck in a creative rut myself. I haven't drawn or written much (outside of blogging) lately. I think most of my extra energy is spent on work and family. In fact, Willow is in the room now, so I'm going to hang out with her now.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Ice Wagon
It been cold at night this week - cold enough to make a miniature ice rink in the old red wagon in the yard. The integrity of the ice was soon compromised by the girls, who delighted in shattering it and flinging it about the yard.
Nate is now 8, and one more party at the local video arcade is behind us. Willow's class held a Christmas party, at which the "surprise guest" turned out to be the same Santa the girls met after the parade a few weeks ago. Nothing like a little continuity in the Santa department to ensure belief. He's a good Santa too, with a genuine beard. That helps. Willow and Sophie both got to sit on his lap again.
I'm off work this week and next. I've been spending lots of time visiting all of the local Tower Records locations in an obsessive quest for bargains. A few days ago I met up with an old friend/ex-coworker at the Tower we used to work at, and we walked around reminiscing and bargain hunting for awhile. That was fun. Today I discovered that the San Jose Tower had everything in the store priced at a dollar. I also discovered that the store manager is somebody I used to work with when I was a Tower employee. Of course, now he's out of work.
For me, it was just a bunch of shallow retail therapy. I bought loads of cool cds though.
Nate is now 8, and one more party at the local video arcade is behind us. Willow's class held a Christmas party, at which the "surprise guest" turned out to be the same Santa the girls met after the parade a few weeks ago. Nothing like a little continuity in the Santa department to ensure belief. He's a good Santa too, with a genuine beard. That helps. Willow and Sophie both got to sit on his lap again.
I'm off work this week and next. I've been spending lots of time visiting all of the local Tower Records locations in an obsessive quest for bargains. A few days ago I met up with an old friend/ex-coworker at the Tower we used to work at, and we walked around reminiscing and bargain hunting for awhile. That was fun. Today I discovered that the San Jose Tower had everything in the store priced at a dollar. I also discovered that the store manager is somebody I used to work with when I was a Tower employee. Of course, now he's out of work.
For me, it was just a bunch of shallow retail therapy. I bought loads of cool cds though.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Partially Done
I think that when I finally cut off my hair (whenever that may be) I'll have it done in front of a crowd so I can either make it a spectator sport and/or attach some meaning to the process.
I was inspired by the fact that one of the teachers at camp this week made a deal with her kids that if they managed to stay out of trouble all week she'd cut off ten inches of hair on the last day of camp. To tell you the truth, I didn't think she'd actually do it, but at the end of the week, during our closing ceremony on the last day of camp before the holidays, she had one of her fellow teachers take the scissors to her hair. She's going to send the hair to Locks Of Love, of course, so it can be made into a wigs for cancer patients. Pretty cool thing to do. She even overlooked the fact that a couple of kids did actually get in trouble during the week.
We also had an incident involving an off-balance camper and a tumble off a wall into the creek. The kid rumor mill ran wild with that one for awhile, with reports of paralysis and shattered bones. In the end it turned out that he only had a few bruises. He did get an ambulance ride to the hospital though. A field instructor once fell in the same place and broke her arm in two or three places. This time we were lucky.
I was inspired by the fact that one of the teachers at camp this week made a deal with her kids that if they managed to stay out of trouble all week she'd cut off ten inches of hair on the last day of camp. To tell you the truth, I didn't think she'd actually do it, but at the end of the week, during our closing ceremony on the last day of camp before the holidays, she had one of her fellow teachers take the scissors to her hair. She's going to send the hair to Locks Of Love, of course, so it can be made into a wigs for cancer patients. Pretty cool thing to do. She even overlooked the fact that a couple of kids did actually get in trouble during the week.
We also had an incident involving an off-balance camper and a tumble off a wall into the creek. The kid rumor mill ran wild with that one for awhile, with reports of paralysis and shattered bones. In the end it turned out that he only had a few bruises. He did get an ambulance ride to the hospital though. A field instructor once fell in the same place and broke her arm in two or three places. This time we were lucky.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
This week I've spent three days observing other instructors teaching on the trails around camp. I'm glad that I've gotten a chance to do this, because even though we all work together, we rarely get an opportunity to see each other work. That said, I know my coworkers well enough that everybody performed pretty much as I expected they would (quite excellently, I might add...). We all have different strengths and specialties, and it was a real treat to get to hang out with different groups as an observer, rather than a teacher. It gave me a feel for what it must be like to be a student in one of the field groups. I picked up, or was reminded of, some helpful strategies/games that I'm going to apply to my own field classes in January when we start up again. Tomorrow and Friday I'm back to teaching, and then I'm working at the Christmas tree lot on Saturday. Then that's it as far as work is concerned, until the 31st when I get to supervise a work crew. What a way to end the year, watching the orange vest brigade clean things. Time and a half, I think.
I've gone to Tower Records a couple of times this week. I got well tipped for the party I did last rainy Saturday (beautiful day, with rain making the city somehow indistinct, almost dreamlike, and gusts of yellow leaves scudding across the asphalt) and for helping tie trees onto cars at the Christmas tree lot. I scoured the two local Towers for overlooked gems (granted, a lot of the music I like tends to get overlooked) and got some good cds for 60% off. I'm curious to see how much more prices will drop in the next week and a half before the chain closes for good.
It's almost 10 PM. Time to think about going to bed. It's finally quiet in the house. Maybe I'll read for awhile instead.
I've gone to Tower Records a couple of times this week. I got well tipped for the party I did last rainy Saturday (beautiful day, with rain making the city somehow indistinct, almost dreamlike, and gusts of yellow leaves scudding across the asphalt) and for helping tie trees onto cars at the Christmas tree lot. I scoured the two local Towers for overlooked gems (granted, a lot of the music I like tends to get overlooked) and got some good cds for 60% off. I'm curious to see how much more prices will drop in the next week and a half before the chain closes for good.
It's almost 10 PM. Time to think about going to bed. It's finally quiet in the house. Maybe I'll read for awhile instead.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Lot
We're more prepared for the holidays this year than we usually are, but that's not saying much. Today, the weather has turned rainy. I attended the staff Christmas party and got a white elephant gift in the form of a cookbook, packaged with a blank journal and a frog pin. I gave away an extra copy of Farley Mowat's Never Cry Wolf. Next week is the last week of camp for the season, and I'm spending half of it observing other instructors, which should be interesting. We do this from time to time because normally we never get to see each other teach. Hopefully I'll learn some new games or tactics.
Then the holidays will be upon us.
Sadly though, there are a couple of people I knew who won't be here for the holidays this year. These two people, one of whom I hadn't seen in years, passed away early this month, both from illness. The first was Sam Kress, who once sang for old Bay Area heavy metal band, Heathen, and co-created the magazine, Whiplash, with my old friend Brian. I didn't know him well, but he was part of the heavy metal community I chose to be part of as a teenager. If nothing else, his death has gotten a lot of people talking with each other for the first time in decades. That's something, at least. R.I.P. Sam.
Virgil Lorenz also passed away. He lived on site at the school I work at, and acted as kind of a night watchman, making sure all of the various doors and gates were locked after dark. In fact, my last conversation with him was about a missing lock on the front gate. He led another life too, as can be seen on this site. He will be missed by many. R.I.P. Virgil.
Hard to segue away from such sombre news, but one must continue...
As for me, I'm working at a Christmas tree lot again this year to make a little bit of extra money for the holidays. Another birthday has passed too. For my birthday, Greg took me to see John Waters up in San Francisco. Wanda Jackson, a rockabilly contemporary of Elvis, opened the show. She must be in her seventies, but she had a great voice and actually got me to enjoy rockabilly, which in most circumstances I do not. John Waters, now sixty, is still just as crass and hilarious as ever. A good night out. I haven't laughed that much in awhile.
Then the holidays will be upon us.
Sadly though, there are a couple of people I knew who won't be here for the holidays this year. These two people, one of whom I hadn't seen in years, passed away early this month, both from illness. The first was Sam Kress, who once sang for old Bay Area heavy metal band, Heathen, and co-created the magazine, Whiplash, with my old friend Brian. I didn't know him well, but he was part of the heavy metal community I chose to be part of as a teenager. If nothing else, his death has gotten a lot of people talking with each other for the first time in decades. That's something, at least. R.I.P. Sam.
Virgil Lorenz also passed away. He lived on site at the school I work at, and acted as kind of a night watchman, making sure all of the various doors and gates were locked after dark. In fact, my last conversation with him was about a missing lock on the front gate. He led another life too, as can be seen on this site. He will be missed by many. R.I.P. Virgil.
Hard to segue away from such sombre news, but one must continue...
As for me, I'm working at a Christmas tree lot again this year to make a little bit of extra money for the holidays. Another birthday has passed too. For my birthday, Greg took me to see John Waters up in San Francisco. Wanda Jackson, a rockabilly contemporary of Elvis, opened the show. She must be in her seventies, but she had a great voice and actually got me to enjoy rockabilly, which in most circumstances I do not. John Waters, now sixty, is still just as crass and hilarious as ever. A good night out. I haven't laughed that much in awhile.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Time seems to be compacted into indistinguishable chunks. Every time I turn around another holiday has come and gone. And it's cold! Arctic air mass cold, with crystals of frost clinging to the mornings and slinking away with the shadows as the weak sun ascends.
My week off came with a pair of feasts, the first with Jen's nearby kin, and the second with my side of the family, with Matt included for good measure. Jen's mom put together some fantastic food on Thursday, and everybody except Willow gorged themselves. Willow spent most of her time running up and down the hallway.
Jen cooked up a second Thanksgiving feast on Saturday, with Greg, Matt, and my Mom and Dad in attendance. Unfortunately, this coincided with me getting some sort of disease. My stomach hurt for a few days and the wonderful food that Jen cooked made a u-turn somewhere inside me. I felt pretty bad about this, because my immediate family only gathers under one roof once or twice a year, and this time I didn't really get to enjoy it or help out. Jen and Matt ended up doing most of the work while I slept.
I had improved enough by Monday to be able to go to work, but even now still feel kind of drained. Good thing the kids this week are easy. Catholic school kids again. Last night's night hike was one of the most beautiful of the season, with ghostly puddles of moonlight dappling the forest floor and a magical stillness taking hold. It's not often that a group of sixth graders falls under this spell. Usually they're too nervous and giggly to ever be silent for long enough to really get a feel for the forest. Last night I think they got it. We even managed to stuff the whole group inside the stump of a thousand-year-old Redwood tree. That was pretty cool.
My week off came with a pair of feasts, the first with Jen's nearby kin, and the second with my side of the family, with Matt included for good measure. Jen's mom put together some fantastic food on Thursday, and everybody except Willow gorged themselves. Willow spent most of her time running up and down the hallway.
Jen cooked up a second Thanksgiving feast on Saturday, with Greg, Matt, and my Mom and Dad in attendance. Unfortunately, this coincided with me getting some sort of disease. My stomach hurt for a few days and the wonderful food that Jen cooked made a u-turn somewhere inside me. I felt pretty bad about this, because my immediate family only gathers under one roof once or twice a year, and this time I didn't really get to enjoy it or help out. Jen and Matt ended up doing most of the work while I slept.
I had improved enough by Monday to be able to go to work, but even now still feel kind of drained. Good thing the kids this week are easy. Catholic school kids again. Last night's night hike was one of the most beautiful of the season, with ghostly puddles of moonlight dappling the forest floor and a magical stillness taking hold. It's not often that a group of sixth graders falls under this spell. Usually they're too nervous and giggly to ever be silent for long enough to really get a feel for the forest. Last night I think they got it. We even managed to stuff the whole group inside the stump of a thousand-year-old Redwood tree. That was pretty cool.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
No More Beard
After years of having a beard, I had one of those spur-of-the-moment moments yesterday and cut the darn thing off. The kids laughed and called me, "weird." Jen says I look like a 12 year old. Still, the novelty value of feeling the wind on my chin makes it worth it for the time being. At the moment, I feel energized. I'm sure that in a couple of days I'll think I look like a dork and let it grow back.
One of these days I might even get the courage to get a haircut. My self image has always involved me having long hair for some reason - some sort of left over from childhood when I decided that long hair looked cool. Yeah, it also stems from an obsession with heavy metal and a frustration with, well... I'm not sure what it was a frustration with at the time. Perhaps with the popular kids and their little cliques. Now I have more adult frustrations, but they do run along similar lines.
The bright side of getting a haircut would be that I would never again have to think up a reply to, "how long did it take to grow your hair?" It's a hard question to answer because I can't even remember what year it was the last time I got it trimmed, let alone cut. I think it was sometime in the late eighties.
I'm too much a creature of habit. Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes it's not. Grant me the wisdom to know the difference.
One of these days I might even get the courage to get a haircut. My self image has always involved me having long hair for some reason - some sort of left over from childhood when I decided that long hair looked cool. Yeah, it also stems from an obsession with heavy metal and a frustration with, well... I'm not sure what it was a frustration with at the time. Perhaps with the popular kids and their little cliques. Now I have more adult frustrations, but they do run along similar lines.
The bright side of getting a haircut would be that I would never again have to think up a reply to, "how long did it take to grow your hair?" It's a hard question to answer because I can't even remember what year it was the last time I got it trimmed, let alone cut. I think it was sometime in the late eighties.
I'm too much a creature of habit. Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes it's not. Grant me the wisdom to know the difference.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Who Dresses A Cat In A Shirt?
I looked out the back window earlier today and saw the strangest thing - a cat in a shirt. This cat spends a lot of time in our backyard, but this is the first time that he's shown up with clothes on. Maybe the shirt is supposed to make him more visible to the squirrels he's always trying to sneak up on. Maybe his owners secretly hate him and are trying to embarrass him. Poor thing. Of course, I could call the number on his little name tag (did that the first time I saw him, thinking he might be an escaped indoor cat, but found out he was just new to the neighborhood) and let his owners know that the shirt clashes with his fur.
What next. Squirrels in top hats?
Later, still shaking my head over the bad taste of people who clothe their pets, I went to Tower Records to circle like a vulture around the racks of cds and dvds. Everything is now discounted by at least 40%, which means the prices have finally plummeted below the normal prices of other nearby stores. The world music section had about 5 cds in it. The magazines are nearly gone. All of the other sections are but shadows of their former selves. A couple of things I'd had my eyes on were gone. I did find a few things at bargain prices though, and I wrote down a few other titles that I'll probably pick up if they're still on the shelves next week or the week after. It's a gamble, not knowing if the things I want will be there when the discount is more favorable.
What next. Squirrels in top hats?
Later, still shaking my head over the bad taste of people who clothe their pets, I went to Tower Records to circle like a vulture around the racks of cds and dvds. Everything is now discounted by at least 40%, which means the prices have finally plummeted below the normal prices of other nearby stores. The world music section had about 5 cds in it. The magazines are nearly gone. All of the other sections are but shadows of their former selves. A couple of things I'd had my eyes on were gone. I did find a few things at bargain prices though, and I wrote down a few other titles that I'll probably pick up if they're still on the shelves next week or the week after. It's a gamble, not knowing if the things I want will be there when the discount is more favorable.
Sunset
I finally sit down to write something and Sophie comes in and whines at me. Sometimes I think the kids have some sort of internal tracking system that sets off an alarm whenever one of the grownups needs a moment to actually focus on something. Their mission: do not allow any actual focus to happen. ...And I wonder why I always feel so scattered.
Now Willow is in here with a dragon mask, repeating, "can I wear this?" over and over again. Hold on....
Okay, where was I?
I did another reptile party this weekend, out towards the central valley in Livermore. Most of the kids were five years old and younger, so we split the "sit down and focus" part of the party into two sections by serving pizza and cake halfway through. I gave out a few of the cool Flickr business cards that Jen got me for our anniversary last month, so I'll probably be out that way again soon. It takes me nearly an hour to get out there, but the money I get for my time definitely makes in worth the trip. Of course, not to sound overly avaricious, the kids make it worthwhile too.
I took the picture of the sunset last night. I stood out in the driveway with Willow in my arms as we watched the colors darken. It was a nice moment.
Greg and Matt are in Boston at the Brainwaves festival. Wish I could have gone. I'm sure they'll have some good stories when they return.
This week marked the last camp week of the year for our second site. The campers came all the way up from garlic-smelling Gilroy, from a school that had never been to our camp before. The kids were so enthusiastic about camp that they yelled at the bus to, "go away!" when it arrived to pick them up on Friday. They were also plotting to disable the engine. They all got shuttled back to their school as planned, of course. Good week though. Three more to go at our main site after Thanksgiving week, then Christmas break. Where did the year go?
Now Willow is in here with a dragon mask, repeating, "can I wear this?" over and over again. Hold on....
Okay, where was I?
I did another reptile party this weekend, out towards the central valley in Livermore. Most of the kids were five years old and younger, so we split the "sit down and focus" part of the party into two sections by serving pizza and cake halfway through. I gave out a few of the cool Flickr business cards that Jen got me for our anniversary last month, so I'll probably be out that way again soon. It takes me nearly an hour to get out there, but the money I get for my time definitely makes in worth the trip. Of course, not to sound overly avaricious, the kids make it worthwhile too.
I took the picture of the sunset last night. I stood out in the driveway with Willow in my arms as we watched the colors darken. It was a nice moment.
Greg and Matt are in Boston at the Brainwaves festival. Wish I could have gone. I'm sure they'll have some good stories when they return.
This week marked the last camp week of the year for our second site. The campers came all the way up from garlic-smelling Gilroy, from a school that had never been to our camp before. The kids were so enthusiastic about camp that they yelled at the bus to, "go away!" when it arrived to pick them up on Friday. They were also plotting to disable the engine. They all got shuttled back to their school as planned, of course. Good week though. Three more to go at our main site after Thanksgiving week, then Christmas break. Where did the year go?
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Snake Ring
It's finally starting to feel like Autumn around here. Yesterday morning there was a light dusting of frost on neighborhood roofs, and the heater has come on a couple of times. Trees are shutting down for the winter and the air is full of falling leaves. It's breezy and cloudy outside, and the air still smells of the rain that fell overnight. I love this time of year.
Despite the crispness in the air, my hiking group found four Garter snakes on the trails around camp this week. Pictured here is the first find. We also had a minor run-in with Yellowjackets when one of the kids got to close to an underground nest. It might have been much worse if the weather had been warmer. As it was, one boy got stung on the side and one girl got stung on the tongue. I administered vinegar to the wounded and flicked a few wasps off of hats and jackets. It's funny to watch them busily stinging clothing. Talk about wasted effort.
Then, on the same hike, my cabin leaders (teen volunteers) forgot to check to make sure the kids picked up the backpack containing camp journals and the tote bag with the extra water, costing me an extra forty five minute round trip hike to retrieve them. It actually ended up being kind of nice though. It has been awhile since I've gone on a hike without being followed by a big group of kids. I love leading kids, of course, but the solitude of the solo hike helps me recharge batteries drained by the constant chaos of children.
All of the schools this week were private catholic schools. Students from three of the four schools were dropped off by parents rather than by bus, so the week began and ended with a severe parking crunch. On Friday, I actually had to guide the one bus in because there were about two inches of clearance on either side of it due to the sloppy parking jobs of the mobs parents who felt they were entitled to park wherever their SUV driving little hearts felt like. Apparently one parent parked right in the middle of the one road leading up to camp. I've seen this behavior while dropping off our own kids at school, and while manning the bus stop during summer camp. A certain percentage of the population seems to operate outside the realm of common sense and common courtesy.
On the bright side, while talking to the catholic school teachers, we learned that the Pope is now cool with the concept of evolution, at least to a degree.
I ended the week by actually getting to go out and see a movie with Jen - Stranger Than Fiction (which is both the name of the film we saw and very descriptive of our actually getting to go out on a date together, given all of our various commitments and perpetual lack of funds). Very good film.
Despite the crispness in the air, my hiking group found four Garter snakes on the trails around camp this week. Pictured here is the first find. We also had a minor run-in with Yellowjackets when one of the kids got to close to an underground nest. It might have been much worse if the weather had been warmer. As it was, one boy got stung on the side and one girl got stung on the tongue. I administered vinegar to the wounded and flicked a few wasps off of hats and jackets. It's funny to watch them busily stinging clothing. Talk about wasted effort.
Then, on the same hike, my cabin leaders (teen volunteers) forgot to check to make sure the kids picked up the backpack containing camp journals and the tote bag with the extra water, costing me an extra forty five minute round trip hike to retrieve them. It actually ended up being kind of nice though. It has been awhile since I've gone on a hike without being followed by a big group of kids. I love leading kids, of course, but the solitude of the solo hike helps me recharge batteries drained by the constant chaos of children.
All of the schools this week were private catholic schools. Students from three of the four schools were dropped off by parents rather than by bus, so the week began and ended with a severe parking crunch. On Friday, I actually had to guide the one bus in because there were about two inches of clearance on either side of it due to the sloppy parking jobs of the mobs parents who felt they were entitled to park wherever their SUV driving little hearts felt like. Apparently one parent parked right in the middle of the one road leading up to camp. I've seen this behavior while dropping off our own kids at school, and while manning the bus stop during summer camp. A certain percentage of the population seems to operate outside the realm of common sense and common courtesy.
On the bright side, while talking to the catholic school teachers, we learned that the Pope is now cool with the concept of evolution, at least to a degree.
I ended the week by actually getting to go out and see a movie with Jen - Stranger Than Fiction (which is both the name of the film we saw and very descriptive of our actually getting to go out on a date together, given all of our various commitments and perpetual lack of funds). Very good film.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
I used to keep a running log of animals I'd seen while delivering newspapers. It's kind of funny that now that I'm working up in the woods I no longer do that. I think I'll start reporting in on this once a week or so. Here's what we've seen in field class this week:
Invertebrates:
Jerusalem Crickets - several of them
Banana Slug - 7 or 8 of 'em
One big Harvestman
Clusters of Ladybugs
Millipede
Scorpion
Black Widow
Scuds
Crayfish - 2 or 3 of them
Amphibians:
Pacific Giant Salamander larvae - 2 or 3 of them
Ensatina
Slender Salamander - out walking around in the rain
California Newts - 99 of them! During one class!
Bullfrog tadpoles
Reptiles:
Western Fence Lizard - 4 or 5 of them
Northern Alligator Lizard
Garter snake - one little baby
Birds:
Ravens
Scrub Jays
Juncos
Crows
Lots of other little brownish birds moving too quickly to identify
Mammals:
Deer
+ rabbit and raccoon scat
Invertebrates:
Jerusalem Crickets - several of them
Banana Slug - 7 or 8 of 'em
One big Harvestman
Clusters of Ladybugs
Millipede
Scorpion
Black Widow
Scuds
Crayfish - 2 or 3 of them
Amphibians:
Pacific Giant Salamander larvae - 2 or 3 of them
Ensatina
Slender Salamander - out walking around in the rain
California Newts - 99 of them! During one class!
Bullfrog tadpoles
Reptiles:
Western Fence Lizard - 4 or 5 of them
Northern Alligator Lizard
Garter snake - one little baby
Birds:
Ravens
Scrub Jays
Juncos
Crows
Lots of other little brownish birds moving too quickly to identify
Mammals:
Deer
+ rabbit and raccoon scat
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Halloween has come and gone and the kids all have bulging bags of candy to show for their trick or treating efforts. Nate finally got his wish to stay up late and watch an R rated horror film (Alien) but fell asleep 20 minutes into it. Poor guy.
Tomorrow night I get to do Halloween again, this time at work, where we'll be throwing a Halloween party for this week's campers. It's just started raining too, so the possibly of a wet Halloween party has to be factored into our plans. As for now, we're all about to go on night hikes. Wish I'd thought to bring some rain gear. Oh, well.
Tomorrow night I get to do Halloween again, this time at work, where we'll be throwing a Halloween party for this week's campers. It's just started raining too, so the possibly of a wet Halloween party has to be factored into our plans. As for now, we're all about to go on night hikes. Wish I'd thought to bring some rain gear. Oh, well.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Daylight savings time, as usual, has bitten me in the butt. I get to experience the extra hour while trying to stay awake all night. So far, so good - I've ushered a few students back to bed and kicked numerous Raccoons out of the trash cans. Most of these Raccoons are repeat offenders, squabbling amongst themselves over choice bits of refuse, and growling at me when I chase them away. A herd of deer passed through camp too, munching on fallen leaves as they went. I've watched three movies, had some coffee, eaten half a container of chocolate covered espresso beans, and made myself a quesedilla with ingredients filched from the fridge.
It's only 4:22 right now, but it should be 5:22. Only slightly over three hours to go and I'll have earned my $300 and I can go home. I love a job that pays me to watch movies and eat chocolate covered espresso beans. And blog, of course. I think I'll go do some stargazing now. It's a beautiful night.
It's only 4:22 right now, but it should be 5:22. Only slightly over three hours to go and I'll have earned my $300 and I can go home. I love a job that pays me to watch movies and eat chocolate covered espresso beans. And blog, of course. I think I'll go do some stargazing now. It's a beautiful night.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Look Out!
One of the good things about the hub host job is that I get Friday off, but still get paid for a forty hour work week. So Friday, instead of working, I went with everybody to the pumpkin patch. Alex actually used some of his own money so he could get a pumpkin larger than what we were willing to shell out for. The other kids were happy with slightly smaller pumpkins. For once, I didn't get one for myself, although I did get to carve Willow and Sophie's pumpkins. Alex's too, but he designed it. Nate carved his own. The boys seem to have developed an obsession with knives, and both proceeded to leave their jack-o-lanterns with pumpkin carving knives jutting out of them. I used to do this too. Not sure why - maybe it was all of the horror movies I watched at an impressionable age. Maybe it's just a boy thing, since we try not to expose our boys to that kind of entertainment.
Jen's getting some time away from home this weekend. Last night she went out with friends, and today she's out shopping with her mom. Willow and I are hanging out at home, playing board games and eating cookies. Willow has a fever, but seems to have improved over last night.
Later, I get to earn some extra money by going to work and staying there, awake, all night. A weekend group renting the site is paying me $30 an hour to be a night supervisor. I think the teachers are worried that their high school students will try to sneak out and make mischief. My job: catch them and send them back to bed. I might blog about how things are progressing sometime in the middle of the night. We'll see...
Jen's getting some time away from home this weekend. Last night she went out with friends, and today she's out shopping with her mom. Willow and I are hanging out at home, playing board games and eating cookies. Willow has a fever, but seems to have improved over last night.
Later, I get to earn some extra money by going to work and staying there, awake, all night. A weekend group renting the site is paying me $30 an hour to be a night supervisor. I think the teachers are worried that their high school students will try to sneak out and make mischief. My job: catch them and send them back to bed. I might blog about how things are progressing sometime in the middle of the night. We'll see...
Thursday, October 26, 2006
As of today, Jen and I have been married for four years. I've been at work most of the day, but I'm near the grove of Redwoods that we got married under, and while the kids were having recess I put on one of the cds that we put together to hand out at our reception. The kids didn't notice, but then I wasn't playing it for them.
Happy anniversary to us! Here's to many more to come.
Happy anniversary to us! Here's to many more to come.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
I've written over a thousand posts here, but who's counting?
I'm doing something a bit different this week. Instead of having a field class and teaching natural science, I'm the "hub host." A hub host is in charge of the day to day running of the camp - getting the kids in to meals, coordinating other activities with campers, cabin leaders, and classroom teachers, as well as other staff members, and being in the hub (camp office) so kids who are sick, injured, in trouble, or just plain clueless, can get the help they need.
Fortunately, I picked a great week to try something new - all of the kids, cabin leaders, and teachers are first class, making my job quite easy. Right now the kids are out on the trails and camp is quiet. A doe, with faun in tow, just passed through the amphitheater area. Yellow leaves are falling and it's quiet enough to hear them hit the ground.
Last night I got to hear a large group of coyotes yipping it up quite close to camp. I don't hear them often, so I'm always glad when I hear them. They almost sound like a loud group of people if one isn't listening carefully.
I just picked some Madrone berries too. I'll probably give them to Alex, since he's mired down in the middle of an Ohlone Indian project and the Ohlone ate the berries.
The ravens are croaking up in a nearby tree too. Very nice.
I'm doing something a bit different this week. Instead of having a field class and teaching natural science, I'm the "hub host." A hub host is in charge of the day to day running of the camp - getting the kids in to meals, coordinating other activities with campers, cabin leaders, and classroom teachers, as well as other staff members, and being in the hub (camp office) so kids who are sick, injured, in trouble, or just plain clueless, can get the help they need.
Fortunately, I picked a great week to try something new - all of the kids, cabin leaders, and teachers are first class, making my job quite easy. Right now the kids are out on the trails and camp is quiet. A doe, with faun in tow, just passed through the amphitheater area. Yellow leaves are falling and it's quiet enough to hear them hit the ground.
Last night I got to hear a large group of coyotes yipping it up quite close to camp. I don't hear them often, so I'm always glad when I hear them. They almost sound like a loud group of people if one isn't listening carefully.
I just picked some Madrone berries too. I'll probably give them to Alex, since he's mired down in the middle of an Ohlone Indian project and the Ohlone ate the berries.
The ravens are croaking up in a nearby tree too. Very nice.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Where Does It Lead?
As a child, one of my favorite pastimes was to go spelunking in the drainage tunnels connecting the city's network of drainage ditches and creeks together. A group of us would gather together bits of cloth and wind them around sticks to create makeshift torches. After setting these ablaze, we would enter the tunnels, with only the quickly dwindling firelight to push back the shadows. I suppose it was dangerous, but we were immortal, so thoughts of misadventure never crossed our minds.
With this in mind, I took a group of students into a short tunnel that leads away from Lake Ranch Reservoir - just for old times sake, and because they asked to go in. It's a lot harder to walk stooped over than it was when I was a kid, and the tunnel led to a drop off, so we had to turn around and go back. Still, it was fun. My job keeps me young.
The kids this week were probably the best informed of any of the groups I've led in the last two years. This meant that the "lesson" part of each class was short, and the experiential part was extended. The discussions went deeper and exploration time was longer. I suppose walking through drainage tunnels counts and learning about watersheds and water supplies, which are things we're supposed to teach. Maybe I'll do things like that more often.
Speaking of doing things more often, I ended up back at the children's museum today so I could borrow back my tarantula and scorpion. The girls went with me and had a great time until it became evident to them that we were about to leave. Willow had quite a meltdown at that point, but with a little help from one of the staff members I was able to get the arachnids and the girls back to the car.
A few hours later I put just about all of my animals in the car and took them all to Livermore for a Halloween party. We all had a great time, and the $150 I got paid for the trip definitely made it worth my while. While there I noticed that once again there were baby cockroaches in the cockroach cage - the day after I'd picked out all of the babies from last week.
Does anybody want some cockroaches?
With this in mind, I took a group of students into a short tunnel that leads away from Lake Ranch Reservoir - just for old times sake, and because they asked to go in. It's a lot harder to walk stooped over than it was when I was a kid, and the tunnel led to a drop off, so we had to turn around and go back. Still, it was fun. My job keeps me young.
The kids this week were probably the best informed of any of the groups I've led in the last two years. This meant that the "lesson" part of each class was short, and the experiential part was extended. The discussions went deeper and exploration time was longer. I suppose walking through drainage tunnels counts and learning about watersheds and water supplies, which are things we're supposed to teach. Maybe I'll do things like that more often.
Speaking of doing things more often, I ended up back at the children's museum today so I could borrow back my tarantula and scorpion. The girls went with me and had a great time until it became evident to them that we were about to leave. Willow had quite a meltdown at that point, but with a little help from one of the staff members I was able to get the arachnids and the girls back to the car.
A few hours later I put just about all of my animals in the car and took them all to Livermore for a Halloween party. We all had a great time, and the $150 I got paid for the trip definitely made it worth my while. While there I noticed that once again there were baby cockroaches in the cockroach cage - the day after I'd picked out all of the babies from last week.
Does anybody want some cockroaches?
Monday, October 16, 2006
Victorian Shadow
Friday was a long day, starting with the last day of a nice week of camp at our secondary site. Afterwards, we had our Friday meeting during which the new lodge was discussed at length. I was supposed to have a mini-interview for the recently available permanent position, but managed to reschedule it for Tuesday so I could rush home and watch the kids for Jen. From there I had to pick up a science party kit for my weekend job with four kids in tow, combatting traffic both coming and going, and stopping on the way back to get Matt at the bus station, followed by a quick visit to the Children's Discovery Museum to drop off most of my arachnids and insects (which will be on display in their art space for the next month or so). Lisa, who I worked with while employed at the museum, and who runs the art space there now, had picked up some plexiglass ballot boxes, complete with the slot in the top, for the critters to live in during their stay at the museum. They actually make very attractive display cases. I might have to get some myself. Anyway, as I was getting out the Hissing Cockroaches I noticed that they'd had babies again. This meant that I had to take out the adults and bring the babies home with me so I could transfer them into a more escape-proof cage. I also met a woman there who is the sister of the volunteer who had been helping me out with my field class all week. After convincing the kids to leave the museum (no easy task), we rushed home just in time to drop the bigger kids off at their dad's, eat a quick meal, and hop in the car again (just Matt and I this time) to drive up to 21 Grand in Oakland for a most peculiar concert, billed as inn.aff.(orchext.) and featuring members of NF Orchest, Maleficia, French Radio, Petit Mal, and irr.app.(ext.). Opening the show was a brilliant acoustic guitar improvisor named Sean Smith, and a cool jazz prog krautrock band called The Why Because. Lots of nifty artwork on the walls too (21 Grand is, after all, a gallery). The inn.aff.(orchext.) show consisted of nine people broken into rotating trios. Three people started, with one leaving and being replaced after five minutes, followed by another switch-off five minutes later, and so on. Greg showed up for this in a top hat and suit (his shadow is pictured here). Matt brought his bass and a bunch of other little fiddly bits. I brought penny whistles, the Winnie the Pooh megaphone (taken from the girls' room), various other things, and some dry ice (which produces interesting sounds when metal is pressed against it). Dean Santomieri narrated over the top of the evolving soundscapes we produced. It was a lot of fun, and I'm interested in hearing a recording of it so I can more properly assess it. We got to bed at around 2 am.
Saturday I did another birthday party. Sunday I supervised the work crew at our school.
I need to recover from my weekend.
This week has started well. The weather is cloudy and cool. The kids are brilliant. Jen and Willow dropped in at lunch to say hi, which was a pleasant surprise. The Rattlesnake is back in its usual place, and I found the first Ensatina of the season. One of the kids decided that his camp name is going to be Salt Marsh Harvest Mouse. I like that.
Saturday I did another birthday party. Sunday I supervised the work crew at our school.
I need to recover from my weekend.
This week has started well. The weather is cloudy and cool. The kids are brilliant. Jen and Willow dropped in at lunch to say hi, which was a pleasant surprise. The Rattlesnake is back in its usual place, and I found the first Ensatina of the season. One of the kids decided that his camp name is going to be Salt Marsh Harvest Mouse. I like that.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Us
We went to Jen's sister's wedding on Saturday, leaving the kids with the ever dependable mother of baby O. It was a beautiful ceremony, and the reception was full of heartfelt toasts and really good food. I wish the pair of them all the best. The sky was cloudless and blue, and the temperature was perfect. What more could one ask for?
Lots of additional photos can be found on Flickr.
Today we had a small birthday party for Alex over at Nickel City. The kids loved it. The adults were a little exasperated by the rather disorganized staff. The key to the storage room where the beverages were kept had left the building in the pocket of a homeward-bound employee who had to be called back to work so the kids could have drinks.
I'm sure all of this is damn boring except to members of our immediate family. Sorry.
In slightly more universal news. Tower Records has been sold and is being liquidated. I spent a lot of time during my childhood taking the bus there to buy records, and more time during my young adult life working there for very little pay. I could probably write a book on my experiences there. The magazines, movies, and music that came home with me while I was a Tower employee (great employee discount and free video rentals - almost making up for the miserable little paychecks) played a great part in shaping my current interests. I went down to the nearest Tower earlier this evening to see if there was a sale on yet. There was, but so far the cds and dvds are only 10% off, with books 20% off and magazines 30% off. The woman behind the register told me that they'll be open for two more months. I think I'll wait for the prices to plummet further. So, instead of buying anything at Tower, I went to another nearby cd store where I ran into a guy who recognized me from when I worked at Tower. He was a tall, sort of crazy looking guy with a big beard and a handful of heavy metal cds who said he'd worked in the record department (I was over in books) at the same time I'd been there. I've just now remembered (I think) that he was clean shaven when he worked there. This was the kind of thing that happened to people who started working at Tower. They grew beards, stopped cutting their hair, adorned themselves with piercings and tattoos, and eventually just dropped out of sight, probably because their parents finally kicked them out and they had to go find real jobs or live on the street. This particular guy looked like one of the latter.
Lots of additional photos can be found on Flickr.
Today we had a small birthday party for Alex over at Nickel City. The kids loved it. The adults were a little exasperated by the rather disorganized staff. The key to the storage room where the beverages were kept had left the building in the pocket of a homeward-bound employee who had to be called back to work so the kids could have drinks.
I'm sure all of this is damn boring except to members of our immediate family. Sorry.
In slightly more universal news. Tower Records has been sold and is being liquidated. I spent a lot of time during my childhood taking the bus there to buy records, and more time during my young adult life working there for very little pay. I could probably write a book on my experiences there. The magazines, movies, and music that came home with me while I was a Tower employee (great employee discount and free video rentals - almost making up for the miserable little paychecks) played a great part in shaping my current interests. I went down to the nearest Tower earlier this evening to see if there was a sale on yet. There was, but so far the cds and dvds are only 10% off, with books 20% off and magazines 30% off. The woman behind the register told me that they'll be open for two more months. I think I'll wait for the prices to plummet further. So, instead of buying anything at Tower, I went to another nearby cd store where I ran into a guy who recognized me from when I worked at Tower. He was a tall, sort of crazy looking guy with a big beard and a handful of heavy metal cds who said he'd worked in the record department (I was over in books) at the same time I'd been there. I've just now remembered (I think) that he was clean shaven when he worked there. This was the kind of thing that happened to people who started working at Tower. They grew beards, stopped cutting their hair, adorned themselves with piercings and tattoos, and eventually just dropped out of sight, probably because their parents finally kicked them out and they had to go find real jobs or live on the street. This particular guy looked like one of the latter.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Cloudy Hills
The rainy season snuck up behind us and smacked us in the head this week. It felt nice. The trails around my work are no longer dusty, and the newts are out foraging around for worms. Our night hike and the all day hike (pictured here) were moist. I neglected to wear any rain gear, but didn't mind. It was nice just to get out in the rain and fog and mud. I'm sure I'll be changing my tune by January or so, but for now I am content.
This was also the first week this season during which no snakes were found. I did come across a few scorpions, including one missing a claw, and a caddisfly larva that had made its home inside a little piece of stick.
On Tuesday night I went up to San Francisco to see Celtic Frost. Read more about it here. Read Umlaut's report here.
In the car, I've been listening to the Cowboy Junkies. It's just the time of year when their music meshes well with everything.
Tomorrow, Jen and I are going to her sister's wedding, which is being held in the same place that an old friend of mine got married a decade or so ago on Halloween.
This was also the first week this season during which no snakes were found. I did come across a few scorpions, including one missing a claw, and a caddisfly larva that had made its home inside a little piece of stick.
On Tuesday night I went up to San Francisco to see Celtic Frost. Read more about it here. Read Umlaut's report here.
In the car, I've been listening to the Cowboy Junkies. It's just the time of year when their music meshes well with everything.
Tomorrow, Jen and I are going to her sister's wedding, which is being held in the same place that an old friend of mine got married a decade or so ago on Halloween.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Tarantula About to Call for Help
I finally found out more information about these spiders! I happened to flick through a bug book somebody left in the staff room at work. On the page with the California Ebony Tarantula (the big, brown, hairy tarantulas one often sees out and about this time of year) there was a passing mention of something called a Calisoga Spider. Sure enough, armed with the name and looking online, I found out that these spiders, which go by the common name Funnel Web Tarantulas, aren't actually true tarantulas at all. Just tarantula-like. This solved a little mystery for me. It's funny that the article I found advises people not to pick them up - you can pick them up if you do it really carefully. The one in the photo trying to use my radio only tried to bite me once. It missed. Another time I had one in my hand and it got startled by the kids all straining to see it. It lunged at my palm with fangs extended but stopped short of biting me. Bluff. I'm not sure if they're all bluffers or if I just got lucky with that particular individual.
Today's other animal story involves a pigeon that has moved into the staff room. It first tried roosting in the staff storage room we refer to as "the nook," but I evicted it by carrying outside the storage box it was perched on. Later, it walked back in and is now dozing on top of some shelves. It shows no inclination to leave. Judging by the bands on its legs, I think it was a captive pigeon. It sure doesn't seem to mind people...