February’s New Yorker

The snow plow scrapes the street making an irritating metal-on-pavement sound. It’s just another inch or so of that white stuff. Steve left for work after dusting off the car. No shoveling necessary. The fluff covers the foot of ice that covers my front lawn and roof. The squirrels have made a warren of holes through the ice. Poking their heads up like gophers after they find an old acorn. The blue jays wait in trees above them grabbing their leftovers.

The boys are still in bed snuggled under five blankets. Their rooms are above the garage and never quite get warm enough. Jonah will sleep until noon, if I let him. Ian usually gets up when Steve’s knocking about the house trying to find his keys and wallet before racing to catch the train. But today, he slept through the knocking and cursing. There isn’t enough sunlight to wake the kids.

I’m working on another education article. I have some questions for the commentariat, so I’ll bother you from time to time. When I’m not wading into the radical anti-Common Core movement, I’m going to curl up with this week’s New Yorker. I hear great things about the articles by Ian Parker, Zadie Smith, and Anthony Lane.