There's a banner that hangs above the whiteboard at the front of my classroom. It's about six feet long and so high that you can see it from anywhere in the room -- unless you're hiding under my desk, I guess, but why would you be doing that? You're just asking for a behavior tally.
I made the banner by hand, writing its message (which comes from a book I read before I started teaching) in huge blue block letters: THERE ARE NO SHORTCUTS.
For most of my students, middle school is just the right time to be confronted with this reality. New 6th graders walk into my classroom fresh from the cottony, comforting cocoon of elementary school. Their elementary school teachers did a little more hand-holding, offered a little more amnesty. It's not because they were softies; rather, it's because students aren't typically ready to be independent learners at that point in their development. Some of my 6th graders aren't ready when they first meet me, either -- but it's my job over the course of two years to get them there.
Sometimes it happens the hard way. I can see the surprise in their eyes when I give them their first zero on a homework assignment. They stammer, "But my printer was broken! I couldn't print it!" I ask if they followed the advice given at the beginning of the year to find a "printer buddy," a classmate willing to print for them in case of technical difficulties. The blank stare I get in response speaks volumes. I pencil in the zero, and as I move along briskly to the next student, there's a heavy lesson being learned in my wake.
They don't quite know what hit them, but if they asked, I could tell them: it's responsibility. The whole weight of it just fell on their little shoulders! It feels like a heavy load, but actually, they can manage that zero. In doing so, in fact, they get used to managing (and working to prevent) discomfort, disappointment, and failure. They get used to making their own choices and experiencing the results. They become independent learners.
This was supposed to be a drizzle, but I got carried away.
Teaching them that there are no shortcuts (you just have to buckle down and complete the work, study for the tests, take ownership of your learning experience) is invaluable, but I also work with some kids who need a different message.
There are a few kids every year who come in with everything color coded. Their handwriting is perfect. They create mile-high stacks of flashcards before every quiz. It's a teacher's dream -- until you notice the tiny cracks in their morale that are widening under pressure. You hear that they're agonizing over their homework for hours to make it perfect, or you see them tearing up over a few missed points on a quiz. You feel their tension when you confer with them about their essay. These kids are the perfectionists. I empathize with them because I'm a perfectionist, too. I know what a heavy load it is to bear.
Drenched. This is too much honey, but it looks nice.
Perhaps this sounds hypocritical considering the first half of this post, but for the perfectionists, my message is often: THERE ARE SHORTCUTS. While it's not a message I'd want to post on the wall of my classroom (the perfectionists are a small minority, after all), it's a crucial one to convey.
These are children who need to be given permission to give 80% rather than trying their "best," which is often overkill. They need help scaling their efforts down for smaller assignments with lower point values, and saving their ardor for important endeavors. They sometimes need advice, believe it or not, on how to relax.
One of my college English professors said it best -- and I repeat this to my students every year -- when he said something to the effect of, "Your cat will still love you if you don't make an A." The perfectionists need to know that there's life beyond working hard for the sake of working hard. This literally didn't sink in for me until after college, when I tried my hardest at something and for the first time, failed miserably -- but that's a story for another day. For now, I just want to tell you: THERE ARE SHORTCUTS.
I ate this.
Last winter I bought some pumpkins to chop in half, seed, roast, and strip for pumpkin puree. It was lovely to work with the pumpkins, but I did it mostly for the sake of having made the dish completely from scratch. I was in the middle of Project Food Blog and certainly didn't want to take any unnecessary shortcuts. There's nothing wrong with that -- except that it was another hour in the kitchen, another mess to clean up. Did I really have to do all of that just to be "perfect"? Probably not: America's Test Kitchen determined with taste tests that people can't really differentiate between canned and fresh pumpkin in a recipe.
It's not that there's no point in ever making things from scratch. Apart from being able to fully control how you nourish your body, you gain confidence by making something beautiful from a collection of raw ingredients. Every now and then, though, when a simple and satisfying dessert is your primary goal, there are shortcuts. In this recipe, for instance, two cans of premade crescent roll dough and some canned pumpkin make a gorgeous autumn treat in 40 minutes flat. Enjoy a restful recipe now and then.
Where do you take shortcuts?
Easy Sopapilla Pumpkin Cheesecake Bars
Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, using adapted versions of Pillsbury's Sopapilla Cheesecake Bars and Philadelphia's No-Bake Pumpkin Cheesecake
Yield: about 15-20 bars
I first saw the recipe for Sopapilla Cheesecake Bars on Cookies and Cups and decided to give them some pumpkin love. In these bars, two layers of premade crescent roll dough sandwich a thick layer of simple pumpkin cheesecake -- it couldn't get easier and quicker! The top bakes into a crisp, buttery cinnamon-sugar "sopapilla." I served the bars heated up a few seconds (just to remove the chill), sprinkled with toasted pecans, and drizzled with a little honey.
2 cans crescent rolls
2 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened
2 cup canned pumpkin
5/8 cup sugar
2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon*
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice*
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg*
1/2 teaspoon ginger*
*or substitute 2 teaspoons of pumpkin pie spice for these spices.
6 tablespoons butter, melted (for topping)
1/2 cup sugar (for topping)
1 teaspoon cinnamon (for topping)
toasted pecans (see directions below)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a glass 9x13 inch baking dish. Unroll one can of crescent roll dough (all in one piece) and lay it in the dish, pressing it out to cover the bottom and pinching any seams together.
In a large mixing bowl, beat together the cream cheese and sugar until light and fluffy. Add pumpkin, vanilla, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and allspice, and beat to combine. Spread this mixture over the crescent roll dough in your pan. Unroll the other can of crescent roll dough and lay it over top of the pumpkin cheesecake mixture (I actually found it easier to lay it on some plastic wrap secured over a cutting board -- this gave me a surface on which to pinch the seams closed and make it into one big rectangular sheet. I then used the plastic wrap to "flip" it carefully over onto the cheesecake mixture).
In a small bowl, whisk together 1/2 cup sugar with 1 teaspoon cinnamon. Pour melted butter over top of crescent roll dough and sprinkle cinnamon and sugar mixture evenly across the surface. Bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown. While the bars bake, you can also toast the pecans on another rack -- just spread them out in a single layer on a baking sheet and toast for about 6 minutes or until fragrant, stirring about halfway through the cook time. Transfer nuts to a plate to cool.
Let bars cool completely before covering them and placing them in the refrigerator to chill for at least a couple of hours (I left mine overnight). Cut into squares, heat for just about 20 seconds to take off the chill, and serve with a drizzle of honey and a sprinkle of toasted pecans.