Best. Wife. Ever

The first week after school is out is usually when I take the time to catch up in my garden. I often say that I love the garden in the summer, but not so much in the spring. That's because in the summer I go every other morning or so, pull weeds, prune and fertilize plants, and harvest the bounty of our springtime labor. But that's only if we actually get the garden in. The spring is full of must-do tasks both at school and in the garden, and it is really hard to find the time to get everything done.

That was especially true this year-- a combination of teaching so many more kids and bad weather kept me behind, and even though we got some stuff in, a busy June made it impossible to keep the garden weeded. My plans were also to leave town for a visit with my mom a couple of days after school got out. So I asked Heidi to go with me to the garden on the morning before my flight left. "Don't worry about it being such a mess," I told her. "Just water it if it doesn't rain. Try not to hate the garden while I'm gone, and I'll clean it up when I get back."

Heidi doesn't love the garden, but she loves me, and so she agreed. Even so, I was a little worried about it, especially since we are heading out of town to visit Heidi's parents a few days after we get back, and "How's the garden?" was one of the first questions I asked when I picked her up at the airport yesterday. She was vague but positive, and I thought I appreciated everything she had done.

That was until this morning when I was opening my birthday gifts. After I was showered with an awesome t-shirt, sweatshirt, 2 pairs of shorts, a camp shirt, Bombas socks and t-shirts,  and a gift certificate for a facial, Heidi told me there was one more thing. She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. "Do you know what that is?" she asked.

It was the garden, but not the way I left it last Sunday. In the week that I was gone, Heidi enlisted the help of family (thank you Treat and Emily!) and friends (Lauren, Lauren, and Traci) to completely weed it out, put down landscape fabric, and mulch over everything. They put hours and hours in to get my garden into the condition where I really can do some projects I never seem to have time for, and actually enjoy it.

I literally wiped tears of gratitude and joy as I scrolled through the pictures, and it felt as if a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. I honestly didn't realize how worried I was about the garden.

But Heidi did.

PDA

I thought I'd spare Heidi the anxiety of looking for my mom's car on the crowded curbside outside of baggage claim, so I parked in the massive garage and found my way along a meandering route down and around and back up to the 14 carrousels in the arrival hall.

The  roundabout path from parking to passenger underscored how rare it has become to actually enter an airport these days unless you are  traveling.  Long gone are the times when friends and family greeted flyers at the gate, waving cheerfully at the end of the jetway, but it is also increasingly uncommon for anyone to stand outside of the security exit to welcome their wandering kin.

But today as I stood at the baggage claim scanning the moving crowd right and left, looking for the one who I was there to meet, I did witness a couple of reunions. Two little girls bounced eagerly in a collapsible wagon waving a hand-lettered Welcome Home Daddy sign. "Ya'll stay seated!" the smiling man the waited for commanded them as their mom rolled them toward him. "Safety first!"

And across the carpet two bearded young men with huge backpacks held out their arms in glee and crab-walked toward each other before engaging in an elaborate hand-slapping ritual that dissolved into a big bro hug. Chattering in Italian, they thumped each other's backs all the way to the escalator.

It was right then that I finally caught sight of Heidi, and although our reunion was just as happy as either of the other two, it's safe to say that it probably went unnoticed.

Humbling

I thought it might be fun to watch the Women's World Cup quarterfinals as I completed a workout this afternoon. What would be more motivating than jogging along on the treadmill as 22 elite athletes dominated the soccer pitch?

Uhhhhh...

Perhaps "motivating" isn't quite the right word.

Clear Your Arteries!

It's big news around here when they release the list of new foods for the state fair. Long ago Minnesotans expanded the classic fair menu way beyond the standard hot dogs, ice cream cones, funnel cakes, and cheese curds, pioneering all manner of other fried things (twinkies, oreos, grilled cheese bites, etc) as well as anything on a stick-- for example, pizza, spam burgers, bacon wrapped tater tots.

New for 2019? Deep-fried Dilly Dog, Duck Drummies, Feta Bites, and Deep Fried Tacos, wait for it, on a Stick! And these are just 4 items on the list of 38.

But hey guys! The Fair is the traditional end of summer marquee event. It's not even the Fourth of July, yet! What's your hurry?

Time Zones

The Twin Cities are considerably west and north of where I make my home, but I have had the interesting fortune to travel here three times in the last three months, making it much easier to compare the seasons between here and there. The midwest as a whole experienced an extremely wet spring with lots of devastating flooding. As a result, the farm fields were too wet to plant, and so in addition to the difference in zone, the variation in conditions has put the farm fields up here waaaay behind. Where the corn by us is waist high, here it might be six inches, and the soy beans are no more than teeny sprouts striping the newly dried fields

Here in the cities, the lilacs are gone, but the peonies (which disappeared from our neighborhood in mid-May) are going strong. But it was that mama duck with her three tiny little ducklings paddling the edges of the pond behind my mom's place who really convinced me that, despite the predicted temps in the 90s this weekend, summer here? Has barely begun.

Thanks!

Sometimes, at the end of the school year, a generous family or two will send in a thank you note from the student with perhaps a gift card. Many of these cards are for coffee-- they are not wrong to assume that a lot of educators run on caffeine for at least part of the day-- but some are a bit more general. This year, for example, I received a 25 dollar pre-paid American Express card, which was a very thoughtful gesture.

I generally like to use my gifts on something specific that I can mention later on if I happen to see the benefactor, and that was what I was planning to do, but since I was headed out of town almost as soon as the year was over, after I wrote my thank-you note, I peeled the shiny gold plastic from the cardboard and placed it in my wallet so I wouldn't forget about it.

Yesterday I was in line at the big wine and beer store ready to pay for a few six packs for my visit with my mom when Heidi called. It was rather a challenge to complete my transaction and have a conversation, but I overcame the distraction and it wasn't until the cashier told me I still owed 24 cents that I realized I had given him my gift card instead of my actual AmEx card. I dug out a quarter from my pocket and lugged my bags to the car, laughing. That particular purchase probably wasn't what the family had in mind, but...

I sure am enjoying it!

Still on Duty

On the first real day of summer vacation, I was lounging in the swivel chair in my mom's living room, TV murmuring in the background, making plans for the day (doing a Target run, grocery shopping, poke for lunch, maybe some board games in the afternoon, gumbo for dinner), texting my sister in Paris, and chatting about this and that.

All of a sudden, I heard Alex Trebek read an answer that was relevant to our conversation. "Listen for it!" I told my mom. "Poke!" I announced at the same time as the contestant. "It's what's for lunch!" I grinned.

"Wow!" my mother answered. "Your brain certainly is busy!"

"I can't help it, Ma!" I told her. "After 26 years of teaching, I need to at least have an idea of what they're talking about anywhere in the room." I paused: there were no new texts on my phone, and on TV a commercial blared I Need a Hero. "It's my superpower!"

Maybe *Vacation* will sink in tomorrow.

That Was Not Funny

Right after I arrived at my mom’s house, my brother called. “Tell Tracey we watched one of those movies last night and it was terrible!” my sister-in-law called from off screen. I laughed, because we had also watched a terrible comedy last night. 

Maybe Netflix doesn’t know me quite as well as I thought! 

(Their advertising is pretty effective, though.)

Nothing *TOO* Spooky

I got an email the other day from Netflix asking if I would be willing to take a survey. In exchange, they would extend my account by one month for free. I decided there would be no harm in checking it out, and before too long, I was rather engaged. One of the earliest questions asked me to rank 10 factors for choosing a movie show in order of importance. I do not remember all of them, but I'm pretty sure "humor" was the third from the bottom, just above horror and something else.

Even so, it wasn't until I was midway through the survey that I realized they were showing me all trailers of comedy shows. What's even more curious, is that I was laughing out loud at every trailer and excerpt, and blithely clicking "Probably would watch" for all 6 of the options.

Recalling the survey today to Heidi, my brother and sister-in-law, and my nephew, I giggled just summarizing what I had seen. Obviously? Netflix (and their algorithm) knows me better than I know myself.

In for a Pound

This afternoon I was jumping through completing one of the endless checkout hoops errands that teachers must when I passed a couple of custodians emptying trash cans full of trash and clothing from lockers that the students had supposedly already cleaned out.

"Have a good summer!" I wished them.

"Thank you," one answered. "Are you coming back?"

I looked down the hallway I had just returned from, and assuming she meant the locking double doors I no longer had a key for, shook my head.

Her eyes grew wide. "You're not coming back?" she repeated.

Realizing that she meant next year, I laughed and shrugged. "Oh no! I'm coming back! You can't get rid of me that easily."

She gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, which made me feel very appreciated. "How long have you been here, anyway?" she asked.

"26 years!" I told her, and this time her gasp was real.

"Isn't it time for you to retire?" she replied, only half kidding.

It was probably one of the worst possible days to ask me that particular question, but damn if I didn't answer without hesitation.

"Nope!"

Playing to Strengths

My favorite activity of today's end-of-the-year extravaganza was definitely "Snowcones and chill" which had the kids cooling off inside from the extreme heat and humidity, slurping freshly crushed ice, munching popcorn, and tossing cornhole, playing cards, Jenga, or Mancala. It was a welcome break, and once I scooped the snowcones, I could enjoy the chill.

My second favorite was the kickball tournament. The sixteen team bracket was run flawlessly by our social studies and math teachers, and I never would have even had the chance to get down there had I not been grabbing some leftover watermelon in the office when a mom came in to check her daughter out a little early.

"I'm pretty sure she's at the kickball field," I told her. "I'll walk you down there."

It turned out that mother and child had passed each other and never noticed. We laughed at how silly that was. "Go grab your stuff!" said Mom, and I turned my attention to the game as the student headed back into the building.

True confession? I never saw them leave. That was one heck of a kickball game! And when the ultimate champions came from 2-7 to win it in the bottom of the last inning, I nearly wiped a tear.

For this day, the students had been allowed to select their groups, and both teams consisted primarily of some of the most challenging kids of the year. But in this situation-- a combination of independence and accountability to their peers?

They were stars!

Why Abbreviate?

Heidi has a bit of a gift for blue language. She can swear fluently and rarely hesitate to do so. In fact, she kind of puts the 'pro' in profanity.

That's why I laughed this afternoon when she read me a text with a puzzled look on her face.

it is hot af!

"What does that even mean?" she sighed with aggravation.

"I'm surprised at you Cussy Cusster!" I answered. "Think about it... how hot is it?

"It's as hot as fu--" she started.

"You got it!" I cheered.

Meeeee-ow!

Then there's that other sixth grade team who is planning a "summer safety talk" with the resource officer as part of their big end-of-the-year activity.

Is it just me, or does that scream "Celebrate!" to anyone else?

I guess our students will just have to be satisfied with Capture the Flag, Scavenger Hunt, Team Building, Friendship Bracelets, Bounce House Obstacle Course, Cookout with S'mores, Kick Ball Tournament, Tent Building Race, and Snow Cones.

I hope they can manage.

I Got That

I like to consider my classroom very well provisioned.

Over the last 25 years I've accumulated almost anything anyone could possibly need for any lesson (or its aftermath). When I find I don't have this tool or that school supply, or the lotion, hand-sanitizer, tissue, band-aid, ointment, hot sauce, silverware, napkin, or potting soil someone needs, then I go shopping or order it, pronto.

Today a colleague put my inventory to the test: "If you have this," she said breathlessly, "then you really do have everything!"

"That's a lot of pressure!" I answered. "What do you need?"

"Goo-be-gone?" she replied.

"I... actually..." I paused dramatically, "have that!" And I went to my marvelous cabinet and pulled a little bottle out. 

See You When I See You

I passed a young woman on the escalator this afternoon. I was going up, and she was on her way down; I did a double take, but she didn't notice me. I'm certain that it was a former student-- a delightful little girl when I knew her, all grown up now.

Later in the grocery store, I glanced up to the loft where they have tables for dining in. There, laughing with his little brother, was a current student of mine. I watched him for a few moments, intrigued to see him in his real, away-from-school life. He did not look down, and when the cashier finished ringing our order, we left.

At the farmers market earlier in the day, the playground was packed with running, jumping, and swinging kids. I stopped to watch them play for a minute, wondering if any of those kids would ever find their way to my classroom. 

Pulling Weeds and Grading Papers

I didn't think I would have time to work in my garden this weekend because I had so much school work to catch up on, but when the internet went down at around noon and didn't come back, I took the opportunity and changed into my gardening clothes and spent a couple of hours pulling some of the many, many weeds. When I got home, it was back to grading the many, many papers.

I could think of better ways to spend the weekend, but fortunately this is the last weekend I have to jealously parse my time for a while.

See you in August, Sunday Blues!

Detachment

For the second half of International Game Day we watched The Cup, a 20 year old Tibetan film about boys in a monastery who are determined to see the final game of the World Cup, despite having no television.

It was a little slow for my sixth grade group, but they were very compliant. It also gave us the opportunity to discuss Buddhism, particularly the impermanence of things. One of the after lessons for the film was on mandalas, the concept of which totally drove the students nuts.

“Why would anyone ever spend so much time making something that won’t last?” demanded one.

“That’s the point,” I told her. “Nothing lasts. They are showing their acceptance of that. Plus the mandalas are amazing and beautiful.”

And so our conversation went on, exploring the value and permanence of, among other things, video games, school projects, dancing, and sixth grade.

Afterwards, we had the option of creating our own mandalas on paper. Most of the kids were impressed with the time and effort I devoted to my colorful emblem. When I was done, I stood up and tore it into tiny scraps of color, all beautiful in their way. When the bell rang, I handed a slip to each student on the way out the door.

One particular kid defiantly tossed his scrap of mandala into the trash without a glance, his attention instead focused on my reaction.

I met his smirk with a smile. "Way to embrace the impermanence!" I told him. "Have a good weekend!"

The Complexity of Kids

You know the school year is drawing to a close when they schedule the open talent show...

This afternoon a dozen brave middle schoolers sang, tumbled, danced, and played their way through their acts in front of a hundred or so of their peers. While I always admire their courage, this year I really wondered what in the world they were thinking for most of the performances.

Along with a pretty good Riptide ukulele number and some interesting contemporary dance, there were stunningly awful renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody, If I Was Your Man, and My Fight Song. Middle school kids are not known for their empathy, and despite a direct reminder to be kind and respectful, my stomach churned a bit in the dark with the crack of each flat note as I noticed the growing restlessness of the crowd.

I needn't have worried though. What started as an ironic show of support-- shining phones held aloft in waving arms by snickering kids, turned into a real rescue when the audience picked up the melody and sang along, elevating the performance itself with their voices.

And the applause at the end of every number was genuine.

Things I Learned in School Today

Penmanship
Cup-stacking
Blobfish
The Threat of Plastics
Wiffle Ball
Silly Math
The History of Dueling

I love you, Teacher for a Day!

Nothing Yet

There was a tiny slip of folded paper on my doorstep this morning when I returned from walking the dog. Its presence seemed quite intentional, and I plucked it up and unfolded it on my way in. It was the fortune from a cookie, which read: You have an unusual magnetic personality. Just be aware of your polarity.

I'm still waiting for the Universe to send the rest of the message.

That Old Familiar Feeling

I've been hitting the gym a little more frequently lately, and so I needed a few extra gym clothes. In the interest of time and convenience, I ordered a couple of things online over the weekend. When they arrived last evening, I tried everything on separately and then tossed a pair of shorts and complimentary t-shirt into my gym bag.

I got my first look at the ensemble this afternoon in the locker room. After changing and stowing my work clothes in a locker, I turned the corner and catching sight of myself in the mirror, gasped. The navy shorts and stripy heather shirt fit just fine, but it looked for all the world as if I was wearing my middle school gym suit!

Let's not break anything, I implored the Universe, and then knocking on the wooden bench, continued out to the floor.

Eviction Notice

The little dove in the nest we accidentally let its parents build in the eaves of our deck finally fledged on Friday. It was nerve-wracking and exciting to see it take its first tentative flight, first to the railing and then to the crab apple tree beyond. Despite its stubby tail feathers and downy wings the chick seemed sturdy and as confident as any mourning dove can be. The parents perched nearby, flitting from one branch to another, but it wasn't long before we were all confident that the little bird would be okay.

And then we knocked that nest right down.

Taking the Average

Despite the no cooking restriction, yesterday was a pretty good eating day. After clear liquids and fasting the day before, I figured I could eat double the usual with a few extra treats.

It seems only fair.

Advice and Consent

When my procedure was over, the nurse read the discharge instructions:

No driving.
Sure.
No making important decisions--
avoid signing anything.
Okay.
No drinking.
Mmmm...
No cooking.
Now that's just crazy talk!

More TFD Tales

In a first, I had to turn down a Teacher-for-a-Day proposal.

"I want to teach the class the difference between serial killers and spree killers," a student told me this morning. "Don't worry, it won't be too violent."

I paused, considering imaginary conversations in imaginary cars on the way to imaginary soccer practices or around imaginary dinner tables. Guess what we learned in English today? they might begin, and they would probably end with a phone call or an email to me.

"I don't think so," I said. "Not every sixth grader is ready for that topic."

She shrugged without surprise. "Then can I bring in my dog to show how I teach him tricks?"

Expert Advice

"We want to teach the class how to do a Rubik's Cube," a couple of students in my 6th period class told me today. They were finished with their profiles and ready to embark on the very last assignment of the year, Teacher for a Day.

"Cool!" I said as they handed over their lesson plan.

Scanning the sheet I saw that they planned a lot of talking and then a quiz. "Hmm," I said. "You've been in this class all year. How do you think that's going to work?"

"What else can we do?" they asked.

I shrugged. "Find a video, make a slideshow, borrow some Rubik's Cubes, have a competition, make a kahoot?"

Their eyes widened. "Wow!" said one, "You really know what you're doing!'

It's Only a Day Away

A student spent the whole class chatting with another kid even though his 500 word writing piece is due tomorrow. After intervening several times, I finally called him over to my desk in frustration. "Hey," I said, "if you want to spend the rest of the year talking to your friends, let me know. I'll just put the zeroes in my gradebook now, and leave you alone."

He was indignant! "You can't do that!" he huffed. "You have to wait until the due date to give me a zero!"

I raised my eyebrows.

He scowled. "It's your deadline!" Then he stomped back across the room to continue his conversation.

That Old Familiar Sushi

I was on the sidewalk of nearby shopping center when a woman coming toward me stopped. "Well, hi!" she waved. She was white, about my age, with a thick country accent.

Not recognizing her, I looked back over my shoulder and spotted the person she was talking to, an older woman using her cane to ease her way out of an older sedan.

"Hello!" she called back in an even thicker drawl. "What are y'all doing here?"

"We're going for some tacos!" the first lady told her, gesturing to the fast-casual restaurant to her left. "How 'bout you?"

"We're going for the sushi," said her friend, pointing at the place next door.

"Would you like to join us?" asked the woman on the sidewalk.

"Oh no," the older lady waved her hand dismissively. "We don't really like to try anything new."

Standard Garden Time

I spent a little over an hour in the garden this morning, watering and weeding. I always like watering, and sometimes, like today, I actually enjoy weeding, too.

I take the time to grasp each plant as close to the soil as I can get, and there is great satisfaction to feeling the tiny zipper of roots pulling free from the soil. I go quickly, but carefully, examining each plant before removing it from my garden.

There is a practical reason to proceed as such, especially at this time of year when many volunteers, hardy descendants of crops past are doing their best to establish themselves and continue their lineage. Today I found a little basil plant, a tomatillo, and what just might be a sweet potato slip. Time will tell.

Keeping it Going

Once, when I was in highschool, my brother and I flew from our school in Switzerland to Washington DC for Thanksgiving weekend. It was impulsive: we had our airline passes and we wanted to visit our aunt and uncle. It was in their home that we celebrated every Thanksgiving of our lives until we moved overseas, and the notion of being home for the holidays had an irresistible pull, even to a couple of teenagers like us.

The things I remember about the weekend are scattered. The flags at Dulles were at half-mast. "For Congressman Ryan in Guyana," my aunt noted somberly. A clock radio in the room I was staying in went off in the middle of the night, and not knowing how to turn it off, I drifted in and out of sleep to top 40 tunes until at last I unplugged it. The meal was exactly as I remembered, but no children roamed the woods outside, and although the football game was on in the rec room downstairs, the bar stools were empty, and the air was clear of cigarette smoke. The table was only set for 8, not the usual 15-20.

I also remember that my aunt took us grocery shopping before we returned to Europe. We filled our cart with Dr. Pepper, Doritoes, and all sorts of other treats that were not available at school, and when we returned, we shared our windfall with all of our friends. The grocery bill came to just under 50 dollars, and my aunt insisted on paying it.

I thought of that moment today, for some reason. I could see her writing the check to Safeway, and I could feel the gratitude again. Fifty dollars seemed like a fortune then, and when I searched for an inflation calculator a minute ago, I know why. In 2019 dollars, it was 195.97-- which is a lot of money to spend on junk food for a couple of holiday crashers from Switzerland!

But my aunt and uncle were like that-- generous and gracious. Coincidentally, I am the same age now that they were then. At times I find myself in a position to support nephews, cousins, godchildren by treating them to a meal, or some clothes, or some other special little thing, and it's always a pleasure to do so.

Plus, I like to think I am honoring the example my aunt and uncle set.