The Leaf Project

In our local high school, every freshman science class is given a legendary, huge project every fall: The 50 Leaf Project. The students are given a list of 50 types of trees in our region and then they each have to (a) find the trees, (b) gather a leaf from and do a write-up for each one (and take pictures for extra credit) and (c) assemble it all into a portfolio at the end of the eight weeks, when they (d) are tested on identifying all of them. It's a high school rite of passage.

Okay, I can see how it's a great project. Fantastic for the kids to learn to identify so many trees. Wonderful experience to learn how to manage your time with a big project. Fabulous excuse to get out in the beautiful New England autumn scenery.  For example, this last Saturday, I drove Maddy and two friends to the Arnold Arboretum (where they filled Maddy's camera with relevant and less relevant photos):

And yet.  Truly, it's every freshman family's evil fall nemesis. It takes a lot of weekend searching to find all 50 trees, some of them quite rare.  Maddy's done a great job of incrementally gathering and recording but she's still haunted by 10 remaining leaves.

10 leaves. By Monday.

I want my 10 leaves.  Remember Better Off Dead and the two dollars? That's how we are all feeling about those 10 leaves right about now. You're on notice, eastern hophornbeam, norway pine, and honey locust.

Anyone else have huge "family homework" projects?

Don't be hesitant

Last night Maddy and I stayed up too late. I had been at book group and when I returned a little before 11 she was at the kitchen table, homework spread in front of her. In tears. Tears are fond of 11 p.m., have you noticed? Some of it was the new workload of high school honors classes, pace, and deadlines. Most of it was the elections.

Ninth grade elections. Is there anything more slippery and unpredictable than high school politics? Maddy decided to run for class president and is experiencing the full emotions of putting yourself out there: hope, betrayal, affirmation, doubts. Middle school maintained a come one, come all approach to student leadership so these are their first real elections. It shows. Apparently one girl is promising doughnuts to everyone who votes for her and that has been a very successful campaign strategy. Gotta love the short-term thinking of ninth grade brains. 

. . .

It's hard not to keep remembering my own first attempt at elected office. I know our children aren't necessarily destined to experience the same fates we encounter (and that it's not all about me!) but I can't help feeling this vicarious nervous feeling for Miss M. No question, those nerves are rooted firmly in my memories of that first election saga.

It was 1982ish. 7th grade? 8th grade? I was the oldest child in my family so I was navigating new, unfamiliar terrain at the junior high but I nevertheless decided to make a run for class president, coasting on the feel-good spillover from my elementary school years. When I look at this picture of myself from that year, I just want to hug her. Oh, Annie, honey. (This is the infamous beauty-school-student, old lady perm.):

In addition to giving a speech and making posters, we had to do a skit. I assembled as many people as I could and invited them over to my house for brainstorming and practice. Lacking any great ideas (I know, fantastic president material, right?) I went with my mom's idea: since my name is Annie, why not a skit around the musical Annie? (Are you feeling sick to your stomach with dread yet?)  So she helped rewrite some words to the music Tomorrow ("Vote, Annie! Vote Annie! Vote Annie for president. She's only your vote away") for everyone to sing.  Then I would come out in my little curly perm with a red dress on and give my speech. I thought it was pretty great.

The morning of the skit, I was really nervous in my little Annie getup. We were somewhere in the middle of the line-up and it became clear pretty quickly that the reigning theme was "cool."  As in: not trying too hard. Lipsynching Foreigner. Spoofing Saturday Night Live (did I even know what that was yet?). Sporting a rainbow shirt or izod. Not wearing a red dress impersonating Little Orphan Annie with earnest lyrics*.  When it came our turn, my posse just kind of muttered rather than sang. We made it through, though, and I am grateful that no one outright heckled.  And, hey, all the teachers seemed to really like it. 

During last period they made an announcement on the intercom. Under the stares of my classmates, I listened as the office of president went to Denise Kidm@n, a tall cool girl who had four older teenage sibling advisors on all things cool. I accepted the condolences of my classmates with a brave smile, burning eyes, and a red dress crumpled up at the bottom of my bag.

. . .

So, you see? I have election baggage.  I want to help but I know I have no idea what the formula is for achieving high office in this generation's 9th grade. Apparently it includes doughnut bribery. I am proud she is taking the risk, putting herself in the ring, and offering to serve and lead. Don't be hesitant, Maddy.

What say you? Do you have election stories? Any ideas or memories of a fun, memorable student election speech? 

*I do want to say: This was not my mom's fault. She was wonderful and supportive and helpful. She made the handouts. She fed the volunteers. {Thank you, mom.} It just goes to show adults really can't predict the recipe of coolness that determines junior high/high school election success. What worked in the 60s didn't work in the 80s. What worked in the 80s, whatever that was, won't work now. 

Quick jaunt

 

Mid-week, when I glanced at my calendar, I noticed a startling emptiness on Saturday. Astonishingly blank! Maybe it's that none of the kids is playing a sport this season or the stars aligned in a one-time-only position but it was all the encouragement I needed to dart down to NYC for the afternoon. Maddy came with me for a little m-d-o and we hit the Shake Shack and Central Park and then headed to the Village (I like to say that all hip and casual-like: just heading to the Village. Shall we meet in the Village?) to meet up with my sister and brother, who both live in Brooklyn.

Truth be told, that was the real reason I was hankering for a NY trip. It had been ages since I saw Chris and several months since I saw Nancy. I wanted to get a glimpse of their handsome faces and get/give some hugs. It was time. And I want to be a better, more there sister.

So we met in Washington Square and saw all the happy craziness there--the piano player and the hula hoop people and the mass hypnotism/meditation and the musician playing two trumpets at once and the other 5 musical acts busking--then found a nice little French cafe for linner.  Hugs, check. Handsome faces, check. (Missing yours, though, Matt!)

 

Let's not dwell on the miserable return home, shall we? Well, maybe just a little: The colds that Maddy and I had both been ignoring attacked with a vengeance.  We staggered north to our car, first walking, then taking the metro, then (after stopping for a red velvet Magnolia cupcake for Miss M, naturally) we succumbed to the siren call of the yellow cab.  The drive home reminded me of this time, after another Nancy/Chris dinner: my eyes trying to make little bargains with my brain that my body can't keep. But we made it, huzzah! It was a jaunt worth the price of admission.

For those of you keeping score at home, that's two consecutive weekends of choosing fun over work. It reminds me of that wonderful Louise Plummer essay, Thoughts of a Grasshopper, reworking the grasshopper and the ant fable. I'm part ant/part grasshopper.  It's just that my grasshopper ways are more fun.  Tomorrow, back to ant-hood.

. . .

Listen: Getting Some Fun Out of Life ~ Billie Holiday

There's something about Maddy

We've still got two weeks of summer left in these parts.  Miss M is finding all sorts of kooky & kicky ways to brighten her days. Yesterday it was the fort-making, complete with music, lights, fan, art supplies, a soft nest (she slept in it last night), food, books, and phone. Proving that you're never too old for a good fort with white lights.

 "Rules of Maddy's party fort:

1. Marvel at the wonder from a distance, please!

2. No biting pillows or blankets (you know who you are. *Louie*)

3. If your name isn't Louie or Maddy and you weren't formally invited into the fort, guess what? you weren't invited [this is a bit of a little-red-hen situation. no one would help her make it.]

4. When music is playing, lights are on, and fan is fanning, fort is occupied.

5. No harming or ta(m)pering with the fort or else you won't have chairs at dinner tonight.

6. Rules spontaneously come up by Maddy must be followed in the fort.

Thanks, the tenant"

. . . 

On vacation, Maddy came across a card & quote at a museum gift shop that called her name:

"I am fairly certain that given a cape and a nice tiara I could save the world"

Last week she and her best partner-in-crime decided to go ahead and equip themselves & save the world.  These are their costumes (plus scooters, some monster spray, and a lot of chutzpah):

I love this Alice shirt

She is hilarious. Man, I love that girl. 

. . .

 Listen:  Sweet Disposition, The Temper Trap

Braced

Today was braces day for lovely Miss M. I picked her up early from her gig as a junior counselor for a camp here in town and luckily, unlike Sam's fiasco, we knew this was the big day. Here's the before and after, via phone camera:

She chose Olive Garden for the celebratory meal, where she practiced chewing pizza (no crusts) and flashing her glittering smile. Later we picked up mac & cheese and potatoes to mash and watermelon and ice cream, special floss and extra Advil. I think she is definitely rocking the sparklemouth (although a bit sore).