Fifteen Years Later

Back when I was in my late forties, I used to think it was funny when I started receiving invitations to join AARP.  It seemed impossible that I was that old, and I felt as fine and well as ever, so AARP seemed like a humorous mistake.

My reaction was different this morning when I went to get the mail and received a large-format postcard reminding me that Medicare is only one year away and that it's time to prepare. I didn't think that was amusing at all; in fact, if I had to choose an adjective for that reality, it would be terrifying!

The Shoe Fits

"More testing?" one of my colleagues asked this morning.

"Yes, but it's the last day," I told him.

"What a joy it must be to lock up kids in the library and force them to answer questions for hours," he noted acerbically. 

"You know I love that stuff," I laughed with equal irony.

"Well," he sighed, "I guess you're just like everyone else--" He paused and shook his head sadly. "Selling out for the almighty dollar."

"Ouch!" I yelped. "That stings!" We walked silently down the hall for a moment. "But, it's kinda true," I admitted.

Shhhhh Nanigans

There was a mysterious whistle softly piercing the quiet of the library as 60 students tested late this morning. It would have been nothing except that everyone was willing to be distracted by it, including the adults in the room. So much so that an assistant principal was eventually called in to threaten the students with invalid tests and other such dreadful consequences. 

To be honest, my aging ears could only pick it up occasionally, but when I passed a rather impertinent young man whistling under his breath to the amusement of the others at his table, I pulled him aside.

"I was just trying to see if I could do a whistle," he claimed impudently. "I didn't know I could."

'Why don't you try to see if you can do math?" I suggested with a bit of a tone myself. "Since that's what we're here to find out!"

Not So Small Talk

"How did you decide you wanted to teach art?" I asked a young woman at Emily's retirement party.

"That's a complicated story!" she laughed.

"I don't mean to be nosy," I told her. "Skip that question if you like!"

"I'll give you the quick version," she answered amiably. "I studied video game design in college with a minor in Japanese. After graduation, I moved to Japan to pursue a career in games, but my entry was teaching English. I decided I liked teaching better than game design, and here I am!"

I nodded appreciatively. 

"How about you?" she asked. "Are you from this area?"

"That's a complicated story!" I laughed.

Duty Calls

I was standing in the library of my old school this morning, waiting for the next round of testees, when my phone chimed with a text notification. The screen displayed the former assistant principal's name and a message asking whether I was free to talk briefly. I was, and as I waited for her call, I looked around the room. It was practically unchanged in the decade since she retired, and I thought of all the meetings we had sat in there over the twenty years we worked together. My phone buzzed, and I smiled to hear her voice. 

The business at hand today was not educational in the least; she needed a sub for her summer bowling league and wondered if I could do it. "Yes, ma'am," I said, since after all, she was the boss.

Testy Testers

"I don't even want to take this test again!" an 8th grader scoffed as I escorted her from the retake session to the restroom.

"Why didn't you tell your parents that?" I asked neutrally. "They had to give their permission for you to do the retake."

"My parents gave permission for this?" she responded, appalled.

Soon enough, it was her turn in the restroom, and then we returned to the library. Not 10 minutes later, she raised her hand to indicate she was finished. She did not pass.

But that was part of the pattern today. A little over half of the students who were eligible for an expedited retake, based on how close they were to passing on the first go-round, passed on the second try. It was pretty clear as they worked which of them were engaged and hopeful, and which were not.

Perhaps we should make it part of the process to ask the students, in addition to their parents and teachers, if they want another chance. Otherwise, really? What's the point?

The Library of Things

A couple of months ago, I discovered "The Library of Things" on my local library's website. In addition to an alluring name, the collection's premise was also enchanting, featuring sub-collections with dolls, memory kits, nature backpacks, puzzles, games, and tools. Of course, I wanted to browse! 

Even though I didn't need a darning egg, a white noise machine, trekking poles, or a stud finder, it was comforting to know they were available if I ever did, and I also found a telescope and a metal detector, two big-ticket items I have always coveted. Oh, there was a waitlist, of course, but I added them both to my holds and promptly forgot.

Until this morning, when I received a notification that the telescope was ready for pickup. At first, I planned to walk down to the library to get my prize, but I thought better of it, uncertain about the telescope's size and weight. I was glad I drove, too, when the librarian dragged out a huge nylon bag from behind the desk when I inquired about my hold, and soon I slung the three-foot duffle over one shoulder, lugged it to the car, and headed home to set it up.

As of now, I have a nice viewing platform on the upper deck, and I am just waiting for darkness to fall. Coincidentally? This morning, we booked a house in Virginia Beach for three days, the week after school gets out. Unfortunately, my telescope is due a couple of days before that, but I'm hoping for a renewal. That or the metal detector.

Maybe both!