The monarch caterpillars are the first and last things the kids look at every day. It’s been a long time since I’ve had caterpillars in the classroom, and I’d forgotten that they are a continual source of wonder and conversation. They are a total distraction, yet totally delightful.
It hasn’t all been smooth sailing though, as we’ve already had some high drama. One afternoon, we thought for sure one of them was a goner. It hadn’t moved or eaten for quite a while. All afternoon it stayed in one spot, far away from tempting milkweed. Never moving. The kids snuck over occasionally to peek. Nothing changed. It didn’t move. At all. Then a dark substance appeared behind it. It still wasn’t moving. Uh oh.
“Is it dead?” several kids asked later, as we passed the tent on our way to the buses.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “It doesn’t look good. We’ll see what’s happening in the morning.”
Silently, I was already contemplating how we could tuck a caterpillar funeral into our schedule.
We left school with heavy hearts.
The next morning, as I greeted kids at the door, two boys approached me.
“Is it…?”
“Did he make it?”
“It did!” I enthused. ” Go see!”
The boys ran over to check things out. “Bob Weezer’s alive!” they called out in delight, high fiving each other. And so, in the midst of our collective relief, we all learned his name. (Later, we also learned that he was just chilling while he was shedding.)
Soon, the kids had christened two more of the visiting caterpillars: Chrysalissy and Butter. Debate raged about what to name the last one. It was down to two names: Tomato Tomahto and Hugo. C. asked me if he could poll the class during Quiet Time.
“Sure, ” I said. “Just make sure to whisper.”
He grabbed a piece of paper and created a tally chart with the two name options. Then, he quietly approached each classmate, asking them to vote.
At the end of Quiet Time, we were all on the edge of our seats. C stood up and made the announcement: It was a close contest, but…
Hugo won the day!
And now, we watch and wait.
Be sure to stay tuned for the next installment of Adventures with Bob Weezer, Hugo, Butter and Chrysalissy.
We had two days at school last week and have four this week. Next Monday our students arrive. Like most in our area, we plan to start school with a hybrid model and will have rotating groups of children. Group A on M/W and Group B on T/Th, with Fridays alternating. Days at home will be “Practice Days” with kids responsible for completing two hours of “engaging”, “meaningful,” and “just-right” independent work.
It was a delicious, berry-full day… Another summer memory in the books.
I’m not fond of the destruction snails can wreak in a garden, but I still think they’re kind of cute. As I watched this one, it stretched it’s head out toward a nearby blossom.
Then, as I watched, it stretched even further across the empty space toward the blossom.
It was hard to see exactly what was happening, but within a short time, the snail had somehow grasped onto some of the adjacent blossom,
As I watched, it became clear that eating was not its primary intention at this time.
Bit by bit, it moved forward, committed to its path. I held my breath, wondering at the outcome, marveling at the snail’s unhesitating flowing movement forward. Slowly, but surely, the two blossoms came closer together as the snail manipulated them, its body bridging the gap between them.
In a surprisingly short amount of time, the snail was clearly entrenched on the second blossom.
As the snail moved forward, the previous perch released and swung back to its original position. The snail continued onward. I sat back on my heels, dumbfounded. I considered how far the snail must have already come and how far it must be going. I marveled at its steady path forward across daunting, seemingly impossible, barriers.
Just look at the distance between those two blossoms! Look at the length of the snail’s body! Incredible, right?
Nix the comfort zone 