Mr. T.

In all the media coverage leading up to next Tuesday's midterm elections, I somehow missed that James Talarico, the Texas Democrat running for the Senate, was once a sixth-grade English teacher. Given my history, you can imagine how keenly interested I was as I read about his experience this morning. First, I was hooked by the headline, How James Talarico’s Years Teaching Middle School Prepared Him for Politics, and only slightly disdainful when it was revealed early on that those "years" numbered two. 

The article also linked to the Facebook page he created in 2011 to document his class, and as I scrolled through, I saw solid examples of engaging assignments, a welcoming environment with aspirational language, and pictures of students who looked happily immersed in the activities. For a young, inexperienced teacher, he seemed to be hitting all the right notes.

As I read on, though, I was profoundly disappointed by what some of his former students said.

“He was too good for the school,” one was quoted as saying. “ You could tell that he wasn’t going to be a teacher in a sense that he would be more. I knew he would have no ceiling.”

Another added, “I always felt like he was going to be more than a teacher.”

To me, these sentiments reveal some of public education's biggest problems today. First, they implicitly state that being a teacher is less than; that it's a career someone would settle for, or that some are too good for. The article leaves these ideas unquestioned and certainly unrebutted. Another thing that bothers me is that those former students feel like they and other kids don't deserve a teacher of such caliber, which is sad.

So in closing, I've got a little shade of my own to throw: given the sorry state of the U.S. Senate today, even if he's elected? Talarico probably would have had a much greater impact if he had stayed in the classroom.

Rain Check!

I've been expecting it.

Since the catastrophic flash flood swept through the Grand Canyon in late August, many trails, both main bridges across the Colorado River, and all park accommodations have been closed until further notice. Even so, my coveted reservation for two nights in a cabin at Phantom Ranch, the only place to stay at the bottom of the canyon, which I won by lottery last November for a stay in January, was still on the books.

Until today. And although I was prepared for the notification, I was surprised by the number of exclamation points the message used.

What can I do but match their attempt to focus on the upside? 

At least I have more time to train!

Ya Mama

There was a bit of a Sunday afternoon rush when we stopped at the grocery on our way home from the movie yesterday. Even so, the checkout line moved quickly, and soon I was face-to-face with the cashier as she silently scanned our groceries. 

We had so much in our cart that the silence got a little awkward, so I tried to break the ice with my go-to cashier conversation starter. "Oof," I started. "Is it always so busy on Sundays?"

She nodded curtly.

"Well," I continued brightly, "this line is moving quickly, thanks to you."

She nodded again, scanned my beer, and asked for ID. As she glanced at my license, her eyes grew wide. "That's my mom's birthday, too!"

I laughed. "What year was she born?" 

"1963," she answered, "so a year after you."

I could feel the ice melting as she continued to bag our groceries, and I didn't want us to slip back into awkwardness. "Where was your mom born?" I asked.

"D.C.," she told me.

"Me, too!" I said. "What hospital?"

"George Washington, I think," she replied.

"Me, too!" I laughed, just as she placed the last bag in the cart. "Small world!"

"You all have a wonderful rest of your day," she smiled.

"Thank you!" I said. "And tell your mom I said hi!"

ISO Verbal Processing

We saw "You Can See Everything" this afternoon.

Please see it so we can discuss! 

P.S. You won't be sorry.

Some Years You Do

It's been a while since we pulled it together to decorate our outdoor space for Halloween. I'm sure you can imagine all the why-nots; even after I retired, a litany of obstacles, both real and imagined, kept me from committing to the couple of hours it takes.

Not so in 2026!

Behold the spookiness:

Tear It Down

I've been neglecting my garden the last few weeks. It's only been a so-so year, except for those blasted Sungold cherry tomatoes, and once I picked my pumpkin, I didn't feel that motivated to battle the weeds, milkweed aphids, and grumpy gardeners. But the season is ending, and we got a "needs attention" on our last inspection, so I put on my garden togs, leashed up the dog, and headed out into the glorious October afternoon.

Years ago, I was involved in a big DIY home renovation that involved taking the kitchen and dining room down to the studs. That summer I learned to swing a sledgehammer, which was very satisfying, and I also literally shoveled a couple of tons of plaster and lath, tipping it out the window and into a dumpster one wheelbarrow load at a time. The final product that we built on those bare bones was amazing, but I've always fondly remembered the demolition phase. 

I brought that same attitude to my garden this afternoon. Gloves on and contractor bags at the ready, I pulled out or cut back almost everything. I neatly stacked the tomato cages and dragged eight bags of last summer's growth to the gate. It's too early to think about next season, but I can see the bare bones.

BFC

"Do you always have so much energy?" one of the ladies asked me at bowling the other day. 

I hopped over from my lane to hers, considering her question.

When I didn't answer right away, she continued, "I volunteer in a first-grade class, and I swear you are just as on the go as they are!"

"Thank you," I replied. "I definitely have my downtime, though," I told her, thinking of all the mornings I lounge in my chair. "But I usually feel a little guilty when I sit around too much!" I laughed. "I always prefer to have something to do, and of course? Bowling energizes me!"

"Just like a first grader," she shook her head. "I knew it!"

"My turn to bowl!" I said and jogged away.