kzbteach

There’s a stretch of time between May and June that is the abyss. It is just after April break, also known as an appetizer for Summer, and all the hub-bub that is the end of the school year: graduation, finals, cleaning, heat (which leaves students pining for “class outside”), among many other “was that on the calendar?” moments. 

With my sentiment very much akin to that of the students, I feel a laxness. It’s not that I lose the rigor of my “analyze this” or “what do you think about (insert pertinent theme)”, but the question of “is this necessary” echoes in my skull. Do I need them to write right now? Or is what I am really looking for is that they understand? Does their drawing need to score points for being “creative”? Furthermore, do I even know what creative means? How does one score that out of 5 points? 

The abyss is filled with over-analyzation and self-doubt. It bubbles over with “ do we have to do this?” and “Ms. What’s-her-name brought her class outside…”. It doesn’t only exist during the pre-summer months (it has many names and times), but I do find myself, during these hot days, ruminating more, churning over what I’d planned like the newest flavor at the ice cream bar. 

And where do I find myself in when the abyss has taken over? I find myself with the necessities over the extra and, somehow, strangely, with a box of chalk. 

Chalk is the answer to the abyss. Chalk and narrower vision. How does one make it through the haze of an un-airconditioned room if not by squinting and waving a piece of pink chalk before you like a flashlight?

This is all weird. I hear you. Let’s get to the point. 

During these Spring months, I opt for a cut of fluff. If I find myself struggling with the content, I boil it down to its essence. If my objective is that students will be able to identify different weather expressions in Spanish, that’s exactly what I’ll do. Do I need the song with the motions? Maybe, if it wasn’t 98 degrees in my room and the humidity was slightly less than that of a swimming pool. I think to myself: how can I impart this and how can they show me that they know it? 

This is where that chunky outdoor chalk comes in. Thank you, Crayola. 

I finally bend to the outdoor pleas. We go outside. And if there’s any learning that I want to get done outside, I most definitely rely on the 24-piece set. 

Here’s how I’d start: Maybe we start with looking at different weather expressions with a quick lap around the school (A giant set of flashcards perhaps?). Maybe I have given them a list. Maybe I’ve created a set of Quizlet flashcards that they can go over with a friend. Maybe after all of this vocab (and by all, I mean like 10 expressions, if that), I have them repeat after me. By the time we’re done this, we’re back at where we started and I produce the box of chalk like a magician. 

Now, there’s a lot you can do here. 

Draw your ideal day. Draw a forecast for this week. Draw the worst week ever (meteorologically). Play a knock-off Pictionary. Write out those expressions and draw them this time. Draw out the expressions then swap with another group and have them guess which expressions are which. Create a hopscotch with pictures of expressions and say them when your foot touches the box. Maybe if there are other classes outside who find themselves intermingling with your group you, the student, can teach them the expressions. 

And if all of the above sounds good to you, pick five options and let them have their choice. In the end, they are still showing you that they can recognize the expression. Same goal, different ways of showing it. 

Chalk, chalk, chalk. 

The abyss doesn’t force me to cut the entertaining, the fun; it only narrows my vision to see what is essential. 

– Zach, May 2026