On Teaching and Learning: October 2025

Thursday, October 30, 2025

Middle Season #30-2025

On This Day (10/31):

Report on 3x10 2025 #30 - my 2nd

Report for my 2nd 3x10 - which coincides with middle season 30 - October 21-30.

Just in terms of numbers... I completed something in the basement 9x, wrote haikus on 9 days (a total of 11 haikus), and did some kind of strength/stability training 9x. The only day that I didn't do any of it was on a Friday.

Basement Project

finished securing lights to ceiling joists; removed all remaining aluminum drop ceiling supports; cut up longer aluminum and add to trash; vacuumed floor; cleaned up joists (remove nails, vacuum), watched videos on soffit construction and furring/strapping (called dad for his opinion on those things)

Haiku

I wrote drafts 7a-15b, a total of 11. In the first 3x10 group, I did 6 days for a total of 12. So... 24 drafts in October. I'm going to keep plowing on. I've been getting "restless"? Desiring to do poems that aren't haikus.

Strength and stability

during the last 3x10, I was trying to do some weights plus some yoga plus some strength. During these days, I was usually able to do 2 things, not 3. I have settled on focusing on foot exercises from Hinge health app (level 9 and 10 exercises in some sub menu) - forward step down, single leg RDL, single leg arch raises. If I'm in the basement (often I am after doing the basement project 15 minutes) I do some upper body free weights -- curls, military press, small weights lifted with arms straight in front... If I'm not in basement, I'll do pull ups (by the end of this segment, I was doing 3x6 pull-ups). For either place I either did single leg squats to a bench (can I do 10 in a row yet? I think so... and then 2 more on a second set) or I'm doing bulgarian split squats. On the last day, I did 2 sets of 10 of these on each side, which felt like I was making some improvement.

On This Day (10/30):

Wednesday, October 29, 2025

Thousands, millions of new ideas

From John & Paul: A Love Story in Songs by Ian Leslie P143

McCartney, at this time [1966], was a man with his mind on fire. He consumed cultural and intellectual stimulation like a jet plane guzzling fuel. His London circle included the Ashers, the countercultural entrepreneur Barry Miles, the art dealer Robert Fraser, John Dunbar and his wife, Marianne Faithfull, and Tara Browne, a twenty-year-old aristocrat who threw extravagant parties. In the London Life interview, Paul refers to Dylan and the Who but also to Handel, the painter Francis Bacon, the playwrights John Osborne and Eugene O'Neill, the actors Tom Courtenay and Albert Finney, and the poet Robert Graves. He said he identified with what Graves said about the imperative of creativity: "I write poems because I damn well must."

Paul in an interview:

I've got thousands, millions of new ideas myself. What I really want to do now is to see whether I could write all the music for a film. I want to read a lot more than I do. It annoys me that so many millions of books came out last year and I only read twenty of them.

He talked about how much he liked modern classical composers:

Then I play them to John and he says "What a drag! All these millions of records coming out all the time and we've not been getting on to them." Then we rush out and buy loads of modern compo-sitions. The only thing is to listen to everything and then make up your mind about it.

On This Day (10/29):

Tuesday, October 28, 2025

Chain of Gratitude

Here's a gratitude practice that I've never heard of. The author contextualizes her idea with a couple other gratitude practices and with some self-effacing humor. She ends with some context for this immediate practice and says why we should do it. A nice article about a inspiring practice. It's also a piece of text with a ton of admirable stylistic elements.

The pansy above is such a "gift." Matt Grigas was given this on the last day of school for being a room dad. I picked HG up on this day when he brought it home. I babysat it until Matt came over to pick HG up (a week later?) and he said that he didn't want it (because

From NYT - Personal History by Melissa Kirsch

Consider the gratitude journal, in which you write three things each day that you’re grateful for. It’s similar to the gratitude jar: Each time you think of something worth appreciating, you write it on a slip of paper and drop it in, to be read at the end of the year. These activities, in modern wellness vernacular, would be considered part of a gratitude practice, the consistent and intentional effort to acknowledge the good things in your life. Gratitude, it’s been shown, is good for our mental health, our relationships and maybe even our physical health.

I have my own version of a gratitude practice, and I find it so effective at shifting my perspective that I feel like I need a whole separate gratitude practice for gratitude itself. But I get a little uncomfortable talking about it because I’ve seen the same hashtags and semi-smug social media posts that you have, the same living-room art with cursive script on distressed wood about the “attitude of gratitude” The concept has been so commodified, overprocessed, merched-up, that it seems as if there’s little else to say about it — call it the platitude of gratitude.

Lately, however, I’ve been meditating on what I’m grateful for and the process has gotten a little more ornate. I will think of something small — say, this weird little deck of “wisdom cards” that I draw from each morning as a sort of daily fortune cookie. Then I think about how my friend Melanie gave me the deck and how generous and playful she is, and how lucky I am to know her. But I wouldn’t know her if I hadn’t taught creative writing with her in a summer program in the 1990s. I wouldn’t have had that job if my friend Alden hadn’t recommended me for it, and I wouldn’t know Alden if I hadn’t gone to graduate school with her, and I wouldn’t have gone to graduate school without the encouragement of my undergraduate writing professor, and I wouldn’t have taken her class if not for … you get the picture.

It’s almost a game, tracing the present-day gratitude back through all the causes and conditions that gave rise to it. It’s also immensely satisfying, and mystifying — look how many things had to transpire in order to bring this deck of cards into my life. Simple gratitude is focused on a one-to-one relationship: These cards make me happy. Thinking through this circuit of prerequisites amplifies the gratitude, scales it, brings me into contact with the multiple interdependent factors necessary to bring these cards into my life.

As with all things related to gratitude, this isn’t an original practice. Buddhists have the concept of dependent origination. In Judaism, there’s “recognizing the good.” Martin Luther King Jr. wrote of “an inescapable network of mutuality.” We’re all connected, related, dependent on one another, but of course we forget this all the time. We forget that every action we take has a whole cascade of unintended consequences. We forget that we’re a factor in someone else’s circuit of gratitude, a link in innumerable chains. And so often we feel separate, lonely, disconnected. One way to challenge that feeling is to start with one small thing you’re grateful for. Then trace the gorgeous, improbable but very real sequence of variables that brought you the object of your gratitude. It may seem a little corny at first, but it works.

On This Day (10/28):

Monday, October 27, 2025

Undappled of leaves

Brian Stauffer - "Winds of Change"

From New Yorker's Cover Story:

For the cover of the October 13, 2025, issue, the artist Brian Stauffer chose to see the beauty in what many consider a noisy nuisance. “One of the things I love about the city is the endless stream of ephemeral and serendipitous moments,” Stauffer said. “I’m always grateful when I slow down long enough to notice them.”

Here are some of the things I've noticed in the last couple days.

Home sick. 9:08. John Deere with a front yellow basket pushing leaves into big pile at the corner.
Most of the locust leaves on the tree in the front yard came down yesterday, the 26th of Oct, in a steady stream. Leaving a Lacey filagre light coming into the front room
A massive heavy dump truck rumbles by. Filled with leaves which flutter from the bed. 10:10
10:00. It only takes two minutes for the loud blowers to push all the pretty leaves from the lawn to the curb
Down the street pretty yellow apron of leaves.
Golden lawns, brown lawns. The time for raking has suddenly begun!
Two minutes of high-pitched revving in the lawn is cleared of the pretty dappled leaves. Is undappled by leaves. "Glory be to God for dappled things--"

Saturday, October 25, 2025

The act of writing a poem freezes time

From Lit Hub - link

The act of writing a poem stills time—freezing the action, emotion, meaning of a moment.

Yet, the other day when I read the poem “Will You?” by Carrie Fountain, where she describes making valentines with her young children, I cried. I tried to remember making valentines with my own children—the pink and red construction paper, white doilies, stickers and glitter. I have a few of their valentines tucked in a box in my basement. Proof that we did this: that we cut out hearts and glued them. The doilies now yellowed; the glitter dulled. In some, my handwriting declares “Happy Valentine’s Day” and “Will You Be Mine?” above their squiggly signatures. I try to conjure the scene, the kitchen table (what house was that?), what age were my children? Maybe there’s a photo somewhere of us. But there’s not a poem.

I didn’t kiss my children goodnight and stay up to write that scene, to describe the smell of the glue, my daughter pressing stickers on her face, the earnestness of my oldest son working his fingers stubbornly to cut out a heart, the baby covered in glitter. Or to capture how I felt in that moment—making valentines, little declarations of affection, with my children—to write my love for them. That would have been a valentine to my future self.

The act of writing a poem stills time—freezing the action, emotion, meaning of a moment. Carrie Fountain wrote a beautiful poem, but it’s also the story of one February evening with her children who “are so young they cannot imagine a world/like the one they live in.” In the poem, she preserves a slice of their childhood, even as the poet is already looking ahead “I know they will someday soon/see everything and they will know about/everything and they will no longer take/never mind for an answer.” That time has no doubt already arrived for the poet and her children.

Witnessing even the dull dailiness of our lives through writing also leads to the kind of discovery Ada Limón, our recent U.S. Poet Laureate, describes in her poem “Not the Saddest Thing in the World.” On an ordinary day, she finds a dead bird and buries it, and goes “about [her] day” realizing that the ordinary has been transformed, that “Now something’s/breaking always on the skyline…” Limón’s poem urges us to lift our eyes, to see and record even the smallest events, for they each have significance.

Friday, October 24, 2025

Poem: November 1

Nov 1

I'm waiting for the sounds to diminish: the high above airplane,

the far away leaf blower, the car on the road, the squirrels shuffling

through the brown fallen oak leaves, so I can hear the Sandhill cranes

overhead again. It's the first of them I've heard this season.

Many trees have lost all their leaves. But most hold on.
Here's a leaf the color of fine leather; another the color of ancient wine.

A family riding bikes, taking in the fall as family

If you walk along the path into the forest a little further and

round the bend -- What will you see? What might

you hear? What will be revealed? A squirrel working a nut,

some frogs? A lit up yellow treetop? The shush of water rippling

in the creek? A woodpecker above?

Thursday, October 23, 2025

Fall is a mixed blessing

Christopher Niemann "Walk in the Park"

I've posted on this image by Chrisopher Niemann before (focusing on the painting made with pixels)

Cover story had this to say about it:

For many, fall in the city is a mixed blessing. On one hand, it means relief from the sweltering heat of summer, cozy knits, decorative gourds, and a spectacular show of colors on the trees. On the other, it heralds the dreaded arrival of winter, with its scant hours of daylight, slushy streets, and freezing temperatures. In this week’s cover, Christoph Niemann captures that fleeting moment when New Yorkers are treated to early fall’s crisp light and showy foliage.

Wednesday, October 22, 2025

Report on the first 3x10 - #29

I've been using the concept of the 3x10 in my day for years -- sporadically, ephemerally -- to jumpstart some habits, to get off my ass.

Recently, I updated the idea in a number of ways. I created a number of rules for them. Each one would start on a "middle season" date -- that is, begin on the 1st, 11th, and 21st of each month, creating 36 of them for the year. That provides some regularity and structure. Another rule: there would be "genres" for each of the 3s of the 3x10. One of the 3 would be about keeping myself strong and flexible -- so, for example, a mini habit on weights, yoga, foot exercises. Another would be about making something/ creating something - a poem, painting, drawing, the last would be a step in a major life or house project -- the first is the basement redo project, which has been sitting in limbo for ages. These "genres" I label projects types A, B, C in the binder below. Finally, I decided to make the 3x10 into 3x15. That felt like a good balance -- I'm not getting very much done in 15 minutes of demolition work, haiku writing, or weight lifting (especially if I divide it by 3 for lifting), but I'm building that habit. And, a little bit is always better than nothing.

I started a binder to keep track of each step briefly and to have an overview of all of the projects for the year. There's a page overview with four columns - the starting date (and number (29 for the first one, being the 29th middle season), and three columns for the specific goal of the 3x10. There's another page per habit type(A, B, C) (these are on graph paper) divided into 6 boxes -- each with 10 lines for a brief update about what happened. If I miss a day of doing the habit, the line is blank. Rereading the list of 10 small items I did in "basement project" provides a quick reminder of what the small steps accomplished.

Last Wednesday (on day 4?) I was working on the basement project and a big florescent light came down on me, yanked wiring inside in a way that shut down the circuit. Luckily, I called dad to help me think through what I could do just to cap the separate wires in the complex 3-way circuit (in an electrical box that was also part of several other lighting and outlets).

On to the first report! The lighting accident "pulled the plug" on progress... but I got back to it on day 9 and 10 and ended up with 6/10 days of basement work completed. In that time I pulled all the nails and staples from the walls and removed a pretty good number of ceiling slats; after the accident, I worked to create an emergency system to catch the lights, then began securing the lights to the floor joists so I could remove the aluminum slats.

For the poetry, I did it on 6 days... and wrote 12 haikus during that time. Most were from my daily list of 10 things I noticed, mostly (all?) about nature. I began using old lists in my apple notes app of things I noticed from a year ago to get additional raw material.

For the strength, I had trouble thinking about whether I should be doing muscle building, yoga, or foot exercises, so my goal was to "get into the workout room" and do 5-mins of each... which I did. I found a "yoga for runners" youtube video from REI.

In order to build the habit, I made one option just to "get into the place" for 15 minutes (rather than 10!). Even if I didn't get a huge amount done, I was hoping that the being in the place and getting started in the most minimal way would be helpful.

Tuesday, October 21, 2025

Dream On by James Tate

Dream On
by James Tate

Some people go their whole lives
without ever writing a single poem.
Extraordinary people who don’t hesitate
to cut somebody’s heart or skull open.
They go to baseball games with the greatest of ease
and play a few rounds of golf as if it were nothing.
These same people stroll into a church
as if that were a natural part of life.
Investing money is second nature to them.
They contribute to political campaigns
that have absolutely no poetry in them
and promise none for the future.
They sit around the dinner table at night
and pretend as though nothing is missing.
Their children get caught shoplifting at the mall
and no one admits that it is poetry they are missing.
The family dog howls all night,
lonely and starving for more poetry in his life.
Why is it so difficult for them to see
that, without poetry, their lives are effluvial.
Sure, they have their banquets, their celebrations,
croquet, fox hunts, their seashores and sunsets,
their cocktails on the balcony, dog races,
and all that kissing and hugging, and don’t
forget the good deeds, the charity work,
nursing the baby squirrels all through the night,
filling the birdfeeders all winter,
helping the stranger change her tire.
Still, there’s that disagreeable exhalation
from decaying matter, subtle but ever present.
They walk around erect like champions.
They are smooth-spoken, urbane and witty.
When alone, rare occasion, they stare
into the mirror for hours, bewildered.
There was something they meant to say, but didn’t:
“And if we put the statue of the rhinoceros
next to the tweezers, and walk around the room three times,
learn to yodel, shave our heads, call
our ancestors back from the dead—”
poetrywise it’s still a bust, bankrupt.
You haven't scribbled a syllable of it.
You're a nowhere man misfiring
the very essence of your life, flustering
nothing from nothing and back again.
The hereafter may not last all that long.
Radiant childhood sweetheart,
secret code of everlasting joy and sorrow,
fanciful pen strokes beneath the eyelids:
all clay, all night meditation, knot of hope,
kernel of desire, pure ordinariness of life,
seeking, through poetry, a benediction
or a bed to lie down on, to connect, reveal,
explore, to imbue meaning on the day's extravagant labor.
And yet it’s cruel to expect too much.
It’s a rare species of bird
that refuses to be categorized,
Its song is barely audible.
It is like a dragonfly in a dream—
here, then there, then here again,
low-flying amber-wing darting upward
and then out of sight.
And the dream has a pain in its heart
the wonders of which are manifold,
or so the story is told.

On This Day (10/21):

Monday, October 20, 2025

Middle Season #29. - 2025

The double acorns on the oaks on Grant St by school often (the acorns have been growing, green, then darkening), at FB: crunchy, sculptural oak leaves, stunning hickory color; pretty burgandy maple.

Here are some of the things I've noticed in the last couple days.

Home sick. 9:08. John Deere with a front yellow basket pushing leaves into big pile at the corner.
Most of the locust leaves on the tree in the front yard came down yesterday, the 26th of Oct, in a steady stream. Leaving a Lacey filagre light coming into the front room
A massive heavy dump truck rumbles by. Filled with leaves which flutter from the bed. 10:10
10:00. It only takes two minutes for the loud blowers to push all the pretty leaves from the lawn to the curb
Down the street pretty yellow apron of leaves.
Golden lawns, brown lawns. The time for raking has suddenly begun!
Two minutes of high-pitched revving in the lawn is cleared of the pretty dappled leaves. Is undappled by leaves. "Glory be to God for dappled things--"

On This Day (10/20):

Sunday, October 19, 2025

I've got to do something!

From Rob Walker, Art of Noticing

I can’t resist breaking form a bit, to share something I’ve been thinking about — a mini lesson on creating from George Harrison.

This comes by way of Tom Petty, who once shared the following little anecdote:

George Harrison and I were once in a car and the Beatles song “You Can’t Do That” came on, with that great riff in the beginning on the 12-string. He goes, “I came up with that.” And I said, “Really? How?” He said, “I was just standing there and thought, ‘I’ve got to do something!’ ”
Surely it can’t be that easy, or we’d all be in the Fab Four, right? And as Petty adds: “That was part of that Beatles magic — they all seemed to find the right thing to play.”

But, really, on some level, isn’t “I’ve got to do something” pretty much the entire story of creating, in basically any context? And doesn’t it so often seem that it’s the very hardest step to take? Is it remarkable to come up with something on the spot — or is that just how creating, large or small, inevitably happens? And wouldn’t it always be easier to just stand there?

The anecdote “pretty much sums [George] up,” Petty said. “He just had a way of getting right to the business.” There’s a lesson in that, or a reminder, whether you aspire to fab-ness or just personal satisfaction: Do something is the only way to get there.

Saturday, October 18, 2025

Each day a new draft or fragment

Colors increase at Fullersburg woods

From Best American poem 2018.

Olds writes: "'Silver Spoon Ode' was one of the odes that came along during the year or two after my book Odes was published. It was written, I think, in June 2016, in the Sierra Nevada, at the writing conference I've been going to for something like thirty years. Each morn-ing, each poet there, including the staff poets, brings a new first draft, or fragment, or something new, to one of the five tables with one of the five staff poets as part of the circle. We don't suggest revisions, but try to describe what we see as the strengths of the piece.

"The first line, I remember, first occurred halfway through another poem-then I had the idea (the idea had me) that it might have a poem of its own. And this was a gathering of writers wanting to push ourselves beyond our usual limits-which helped me notice my complaining and bragging. And that noticing called up Lucille-wise woman, wild woman—and the poem was handed to her, and she finished it for me.

Here's the poem, which I'm not especially drawn to:

Silver Spoon Ode

Sharon Olds (2018)

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth

and a silver knife, and a silver fork.

I would complain about it—the spoon was not greasy,

it tasted like braces, my shining access

to cosmetic enhancement. And I complained about

the taste of my fillings in my very expensive

mouth, as if only my family was paying

where did I think the rich got

their money but from everyone else?

My mother beat me in 4/4 time,

and I often, now, rant to her beat—I wear

her rings as if I killed her for them, as my

people killed, and climbed up over

the dead. And I sound as if I am bragging

about it. I was born with a spoon instead of a

tongue in my mouth—dung spoon,

diamond spoon. And who would I be

to ask forgiveness? I would be a white girl.

And I hear Miss Lucille, as if on the mountain

where I'd stand beside her, and brush away the insects,

and sometimes pick one off her, sometimes

by the wings, and toss it away. And Lucille

is saying, to me, You have asked for enough,

and been given in excess. And that thing in your mouth,

open your mouth and let that thing go,

let if fly back into the mine where it was brought

up from the underworld at the price of

lives, beloved lives. And now,

enough, Shar, now a little decent silence.

Friday, October 17, 2025

Tuning in to your partner

From Gottman

One of the most meaningful ways you can strengthen your relationship is by tuning in to your partner.

Dr. John Gottman’s research shows that couples build trust and intimacy through small moments of connection, what he calls “turning toward bids.”

A bid is any attempt your partner makes for attention, affection, or support. It might look like a sigh after a long day, a quick “look at this!” while scrolling, or a vulnerable share about something on their mind.

When you respond with interest, you’re sending the message: “I see you. You matter to me.” Over time, these small responses build up an emotional bank account that helps your relationship weather stress and conflict.

Listening is a key part of this process. Hearing your partner’s words isn’t enough. True listening means setting aside distractions, being curious instead of defensive, and reflecting back what you’ve understood.

Gottman’s ATTUNE model reminds us that awareness, tolerance, turning toward, understanding, non-defensive listening, and empathy are the building blocks of connection.

Every time you tune in, whether it’s with a kind word, eye contact, or undivided attention, you’re laying another brick in the foundation of trust and intimacy.

How can you tune in to your partner today?

Thursday, October 16, 2025

Things that prevent us from noticing

From Art of Noticing

“I want you to think about some of the obstacles that get in the way of us paying attention to the world. So: create a bullet-point list of things that prevent you from practicing the art of noticing in your daily life.”

Wednesday, October 15, 2025

Welcome, My Scabrous Friend!

A tram stop at Dabrowskiego Square in Łódź, Poland is blossoming with dried flowers, giving pedestrians and commuters a fresh view on the intersection of their natural and built environments. The project, titled “Nostalgia”, was designed by local art student Dominika Cebula, and pays homage to the long tradition of flower selling at Dabrowskiego Square. To create the floating floral installation, the shelter’s walls were replaced by resin-covered flowers embedded in 36 different clear panels. link

I have been dealing with an ulcerative colitis flare-up. As it has lasted multiple weeks, I'm changing diet, activities, increasing medication in order to tame it. I pulled out my Muse biofeedback device. My calmness level was in fact terrible. I did 3 5-minute sessions, which began to tame it on day 1. On day 2, the house was empty after school, I did 3 more sessions, one lasting for 20+ minutes. Afterwards, my mental state was noticeably altered. I was calm, motivated NOT to do anything (trying to say that right: I was not, as I usually am, motivated to check the next item off the list). I sat by the back window, appreciating the late afternoon, the cooler autumn temps. Then I began writing the following in my iPhone Notes app. The second half of the notes are remembering a voice that I heard distinctly during my meditation, which I recognized as one of the voices of myself and wondered/worried that it was the voice of some deep self, my essential self.

Late afternoon/ early evening. Sounds of frogs I think. When was the last time I heard a cicada?
Sunset in 1 minute. A time of exhaling. What else can I let go of today?
Now the maple leaves have collected into a pile on the driveway. Before it was just a few fallen leaves.
Just wait for autumn. Everything will feel different. Well here we are. Sleepy frogs sing. What else can I let go of today?
The sunset happens without fanfare in the cal overcast. Just less light by degrees. The patio lights just a little brighter.
During meditation. Eyes closed. Ears plugged. A light began shining on my eyelids. From left to right. Like someone had a penlight and was trying to see if I had perished.
I heard a voice and it was me or someone who sounded like me. I don’t know what the context was. I could understand the words, but not the import. And I sounded aggrieved. Cheated. A little less than bitter. Alkaline. Just by the timbre of my words. Can I let go of that? Can I let that be?
As though there are plenty of fish in the well and some of those things are gnarled and not appetizing. Prehistoric, smoky demons, controlled by the medulla the reptilian brain.
Or is my job to love even that? To open myself and to say: yes, and that scabrous fellow, creaking and sore at the world, having a row with the world: welcome. There is space for you here on the couch.
And when you say welcome, my scabrous friend, how does he react? Who me? Pig pen dust surrounding him. Acne scars still visible. Does he relent uncoil look up from his gripe his rant.. and snap his teeth? Or blink and say.... "who? me?"
And what just happened in your own coiled innards when you welcome him, when you invite, when he looks over not in anger but surprise?
Just ask. Just say so. The couch has lots of room. He has something to help you with.
Then I tried to unclenched my coiled belly. To bring some space there. And lower, in the basement, the coils inside the pelvic girdle.

Tuesday, October 14, 2025

You either shrink or grow

You either shrink or grow yourself to the size of the circle you're in. Read that again.

Monday, October 13, 2025

If you can do 10 doorway squats, you can do a pistol squat

Saw an instagram post that followed a ladder like this: if you can do 10 doorway squats, you can do 1 body weight squat; if you can do 10 body weight squats, you can do 1 single leg squat.... all the way to doing pistol squats.

Of course you need to build your ability to go from a single body weight squat to 10 of them... but the ladder is apparent.

I've been thinking about this in terms of education -- how do you get to writing a full poetry analysis essay.

Claude says:

If you can do 10 [Level 1], you can do 1 [Level 2]

Identify 10 concrete images → Write 1 observation about what a single image might suggest beyond its literal meaning
Write 10 observations about imagery/word choice → Make 1 claim about how a pattern of language creates meaning
Make 10 claims about patterns in the poem → Write 1 paragraph connecting a pattern to the poem's deeper meaning or theme
Write 10 body paragraphs with evidence → Craft 1 complete thesis statement that makes a defensible interpretation about how poetic elements create meaning
Write 10 thesis statements for different poems → Write 1 full essay (intro, body paragraphs, conclusion) analyzing how multiple poetic elements work together
Analyze 10 poems with complete essays → Write 1 sophisticated essay that examines complexity, ambiguity, or tension in the poem (true AP Lit level)

The idea: You can't skip steps. Master the volume at your current level to prove you're ready for the complexity of the next.

Perfect! Here are examples for levels 1-4:

Level 1: If you can identify 10 concrete images → you can write 1 observation about what a single image suggests beyond its literal meaning

Example of "1":

The image of "Last week's snow is brittle now and unrecognizable as the soft, white hair that bearded the face of the city" suggests not just aging snow, but the way time transforms something once pure and soft into something hardened and unrecognizable—perhaps reflecting how the city (or life itself) loses its innocence or beauty over time.

Level 2: If you can write 10 observations about imagery/word choice → you can make 1 claim about how a pattern of language creates meaning

Example of "1":

The speaker repeatedly uses language of emptiness and negation—"sidewalks empty," "mind empty," "solitude is my companion," "silence so complete"—to create a sense that the speaker finds freedom or authenticity not in fullness or connection, but in absence and isolation.

Level 3: If you can make 10 claims about patterns → you can write 1 paragraph connecting a pattern to the poem's deeper meaning

Example of "1":

Throughout the poem, Ai uses images of transformation that are attempted but incomplete, revealing the speaker's struggle between transcendence and earthly limitation. The speaker wishes to "turn myself into a bird like the shaman I was meant to be," but immediately counters with "but I can't I'm earthbound." Yet when the music begins, the speaker momentarily becomes "the unencumbered bird of my imagination, / rising only to fall back toward concrete." This pattern of rising and falling, of briefly achieving flight before returning to earth, suggests that art offers only temporary escape from suffering and solitude. The music doesn't permanently transform the speaker's reality—each note is a "black flower / opening, / mercifully opening into the unforgiving new day"—but it does provide momentary transcendence. The poem ultimately argues that art's value lies not in permanent escape, but in these brief, repeated moments of beauty within an otherwise harsh existence.

Level 4: If you can write 10 body paragraphs with evidence → you can craft 1 complete thesis statement

Example of "1":

In "The Man with the Saxophone," Ai uses images of emptiness, transformation, and music to argue that art provides temporary transcendence from isolation and urban alienation, offering brief moments of spiritual freedom that are valuable precisely because they are fleeting and must be continually recreated against an "unforgiving" reality.

Does this give you what you need for your students?

Saturday, October 11, 2025

The Pupil by Donald Justice

The Pupil

Picture me, the shy pupil at the door,
One small, tight fist clutching the dreaded Czerny.
Back then time was still harmony, not money,
And I could spend a whole week practicing for
That moment on the threshold.
Then to take courage,
And enter, and pass among mysterious scents,
And sit quite straight, and with a frail confidence
Assault the keyboard with a childish flourish!

Only to lose my place, or forget the key,
And almost doubt the very metronome
(Outside, the traffic, the laborers going home),
And still to bear on across Chopin or Brahms,
Stupid and wild with love equally for the storms
of C# minor and the calms of C.

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by Donald Justice, 1995

Friday, October 10, 2025

Middle Season #28 - 2025

Thursday, October 9, 2025

Sunday Week Review

(From Threads)

Step 1: Review Last Week (5 minutes)

- What worked? What didn't?

- Which meetings were productive?

- Which tasks moved the needle?

- What drained your energy?

- What created value?

Learn from last week before planning next week.

Step 2: Identify Your Top 3 Priorities (5 minutes)

Not your to-do list. Your PRIORITIES.

What 3 things, if accomplished this week, would make it a win? These are your non-negotiables. Everything else is secondary.

Step 3: Block Time for Priorities FIRST (10 minutes)

1. Open your calendar.

2. Block time for your top 3 priorities before anything else:

→ Deep work sessions

→ Strategic projects

→ Key conversations

If you don't schedule priorities, everyone else's priorities will fill your calendar.

Step 4: Prep for Key Meetings (5 minutes)

Look at your week's meetings. For each important one, consider:

→ What's the goal?

→ What do you need to prepare?

→ What outcome do you want?

5 minutes of prep beats 60 minutes of winging it.

Step 5: Identify Energy Drains and Minimize Them (3 minutes)

- What meetings could you decline?

- What emails could you batch-respond to?

- What tasks could you delegate or delete?

Protect your energy like you protect your time. They're equally valuable.

Step 6: Set One Boundary for the Week (2 minutes)

What will you NOT do this week to protect your effectiveness?

Examples:

→ No meetings before 9 AM

→ No email after 6 PM

→ No saying yes to non-priority requests

One boundary. Hold it.

Wednesday, October 8, 2025

Keep your promises to yourself

I saw this social media post that a woman advocating to "keep your promises to yourself.... if you say you're going to wake up early, wake up early; if you say you're going to go for a walk, then do it, even if it's raining".

Claude said

This is a powerful concept about self-integrity and building trust with yourself. The idea is that every small promise you make to yourself—and either keep or break—shapes your self-relationship and ultimately your confidence.

Why it matters:

When you consistently follow through on commitments to yourself, you're essentially proving to yourself that you're reliable. This builds what psychologists call "self-efficacy"—your belief in your ability to execute plans and reach goals. Each kept promise, no matter how small, becomes evidence that you're someone who does what they say.

The benefits:

Your self-esteem genuinely improves because it's based on real evidence rather than just positive thinking. You develop a sense of personal power—if you can make yourself wake up early on a rainy Tuesday, what else might you accomplish?

It also reduces that uncomfortable cognitive dissonance between who you say you want to be and who you actually are. When there's a gap between your intentions and actions, it creates internal stress and self-doubt. Closing that gap brings peace.

The discipline factor:

Following through especially when it's uncomfortable (like walking in the rain) is where the real growth happens. These moments train your ability to tolerate discomfort and choose long-term values over short-term comfort. This skill transfers to other areas of life.

The key is to start with realistic promises. If you constantly set yourself up to fail with overly ambitious commitments, you'll erode trust with yourself. Better to make smaller promises you can actually keep.

I ask to hear more about self-efficacy:

Self-efficacy is a concept developed by psychologist Albert Bandura in the 1970s. It's your belief in your capacity to execute the behaviors necessary to produce specific outcomes—basically, your confidence in your ability to succeed at particular tasks or in certain situations.

It's different from general self-esteem:

Self-efficacy is task-specific or domain-specific. You might have high self-efficacy for cooking but low self-efficacy for public speaking. Self-esteem is more about your overall sense of self-worth. You can have high self-esteem but still doubt your ability to do certain things.

How it develops—Bandura identified four main sources:

Mastery experiences are the most powerful. When you successfully complete a task, especially something challenging, it strengthens your belief that you can do it again. Repeated successes build robust self-efficacy. This is why keeping those small promises to yourself matters so much.

Vicarious experiences come from watching others succeed. If you see someone similar to you accomplish something, you think "if they can do it, maybe I can too." This is why role models and mentors are valuable.

Social persuasion involves encouragement from others. When people you trust express faith in your abilities, it can boost your self-efficacy, though this source is weaker than mastery experiences.

Physiological and emotional states also play a role. How you interpret your body's stress responses matters—do you see nervousness as debilitating or as energizing excitement? People with high self-efficacy tend to view arousal as facilitating performance.

Why it's powerful:

Self-efficacy influences which challenges you take on, how much effort you invest, how long you persist when facing obstacles, and how you feel during the process. People with high self-efficacy for a task approach it as a challenge to master rather than a threat to avoid. They recover more quickly from setbacks because they attribute failure to insufficient effort or poor strategy rather than personal inadequacy.

It creates a positive cycle: you believe you can do something, so you try harder and persist longer, which increases your chances of success, which then reinforces your belief.