Brunch and a Show

It had been too long since we'd spent time with my brother and sister-in-law, so I texted early this week to try to set something up. Our go-to is usually a movie and dinner, but there isn't a lot out that the four of us can agree on. I proposed Kimberly Akimbo, just in case Bill might consider a Broadway musical, as an alternative. He countered with Twelfth Night at the Folger, and a plan was hatched. He got tickets to the matinee today, and I made brunch reservations at a place near Eastern Market. Then I Spot-heroed some parking and arranged to pick them up at 11:30.

What a delightful day! So urbane, so sophisticated, and so grown up. I guess it shouldn't be surprising now that we're in our 60s, but it still kind of was.

Unexpected Activity

 I had just taken my shoes off and plopped myself down on my aunt's couch when a harsh blare interrupted our conversation. "Was that today?" she asked her husband.

"Apparently," he replied.

"Do we have to go outside?" I asked and they both nodded.

It took me a minute to get my sneakers back on, and then I stepped back to wait for my uncle to finish tying his. Their unit is on the first floor of the "lodge," so we simply strolled across the lobby and out the front door to the porch. 

A half dozen other seniors were already gathered there, along with two staff members. A clipboard was passed around for attendance as other residents, some with canes, walkers, and one in a wheelchair, made their way to join us on the porch. 

"Are you a new resident?" a woman asked me.

"This is my niece," my aunt answered for me. "She's just visiting."

"You picked a crazy day to come!" the woman commented.

"I was a teacher for many years," I told her, "so I'm no stranger to evacuation drills."

She nodded approvingly.

One of the staff members checked his watch. "Everybody's out!" he said. "In under five minutes."

"Is that good?" asked someone, and I wondered, too, especially considering we could regularly clear an entire school of 1000 people in about 3 minutes.

"It's very good!" he confirmed. "Everybody would survive. We're going to meet in five minutes in the second-floor lounge," he added. "You can use the elevator now."

When we arrived, they handed out packets containing emergency information and reminders. "You don't have to read it all now," said the other staff member. "It's a lot of information, and we only have one hour."

Unseasonable

Even after vigorously toweling her off,  Lucy was so wet after our rainy walk yesterday that she was shivering. It was a little chilly in the house, so I decided to make a fire. The rain pattered against the windows as the fire crackled, warming the room and transforming the gray light of the day to gold. It felt as if I was in some far-off place where it's not unusual to have a fire in the summer, so I made a cup of tea and settled by the hearth to read for a while.

Gear Up and Get Out

 It literally rained all day here: there was never a moment when it was not raining. That said, a dog's gotta walk and so does this restless sexagenarian, so I donned my foul-weather gear, clipped on Lucy's leash, and headed out into the, well, foul weather. 

It was a soft rain, a steady mist, really, which did eventually drench us, but never unpleasantly so, and as we wandered over three miles, we had the wet gray streets, and later the muddy dog park, and finally the sparkling green trails all to ourselves. It was a remarkably pleasant walk.

I guess Alfred Wainwright was indeed right. There is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.

Late to the Party

"Hey! I got invited to a retirement dinner by the school system," my friend Mary told me a week or so ago. "Did you get invited to one last year?"

"No," I shrugged. "Maybe because I decided so late in the year?"

"Maybe," she agreed. "I'm going!"

"Really!" I said. "I don't think I would have predicted that. I'll be anxious to hear how it was."

"I'll tell you all about it," she promised.

I had forgotten our conversation this afternoon when I opened a small, yellow mailing envelope with the return address, Careers at APS. I assumed it was something about my substitute teaching, but instead I found a postcard inside featuring a collage of images of Arlington's shopping districts. 

Bemused, I flipped it over to find an invitation to the retirement dinner, accompanied by a QR code for RSVP. But before I could even consider attending the event, I read the fine print informing me that RSVPs closed the morning of May 19, so my decision was made. 

To be honest? I'm not sad at all. I'm still looking forward to hearing about it, though!

Mission Possible

We had just returned home from Mission: Impossible when I noticed the oven light was out. Unconcerned about such an easy fix, I fetched the spare bulb and opened the oven. After carefully removing the heatproof glass covering, I twisted the old bulb only to feel it pull away from its base. I cussed and reassessed the situation. 

Because the light is always on, I needed to cut the appliance's power before attempting to remove the broken piece. I moved the stock pots from the rack and lifted the magnetic message board covering the breaker box. Then, I flipped the range switch and pulled out a pair of electrician's pliers. 

The light is on the left side of the oven, and I had to get on my knees and turn my head to reach it with the pliers in my left hand. After failing to get a grip on the rim of the base, I concluded that it was impossible to do the job by feeling alone. 

I sat back on my heels and thought, what would Ethan Hunt and his team do? Inspired, I grabbed my new pair of grippy garden gloves and reached in with a single finger to twist the broken piece from the inside. After a moment of gentle counterclockwise pressure, I felt it turn, and a minute later, it was in the trash. I swiftly installed the new bulb, replaced the cover, and restored power to the stove. 

After resetting the clock and putting away my gear, it was like I was never there. Burnt-out bulb? What burnt-out bulb?

Bombycilla Cedrorum

On a whim, I grabbed my binoculars as I headed out to the second-floor deck to enjoy the beautiful weather. I scanned the trees I could see from my lawn chair and gasped as I zoomed in on the top branches of a sweet gum about 100 yards away. There, preening in the star-shaped leaves and swaying branches was a cedar waxwing, its distinctive mask and tousled crest unmistakable.

I've never seen one around here, although I know this is their range. Their grayish-green color and fondness for feeding in fruit trees make them tough to spot, so I was thrilled to watch this one until it flew away.

Some Splining to Do

The day dawned so fresh and breezy that I just had to throw open the windows and let in the air. As I did, however, I was reminded of a detail it has been easy to ignore for decades, so seldom do we have the windows open. Our screens are original to the house and over 40 years old. Time has not been friendly to them, and they are tattered and torn around the bottom frame. 

Years ago, when we were children, visiting our aunt and uncle in Little Falls, New York, my brother leaned on a screen in an upstairs window and tumbled out onto the roof. He might have rolled off onto the sidewalk below were it not for my Aunt's quick hands. Today, I could picture something similar happening to our cats as they leapt to the sills to enjoy the rare breeze.

Fortunately, I had what I needed to repair the screens: I ordered the tools and supplies a couple of years ago when I replaced the deck slider with pet-resistant Teflon mesh. I'd discovered then that the job is not really that hard, so I decided to fix those old screens then and there. A little over 30 minutes later, the windows were open and secure, and I was feeling quite a sense of accomplishment.

Bloody Well Done

I saw Sinners yesterday with a friend and former colleague. It was really only at his encouragement that I was there at all; in general, I'm not a big fan of horror movies. 

"The vampires are metaphorical," my friend promised. "It's really a movie about racism and the blues. Even though he is considerably younger than I am, we have developed a strong rapport over the last seven years, and we often talk about movies and politics, so I was in.

This particular film has also received quite a bit of good press and even some early Oscar buzz. Directed by Ryan Coogler, who also made Fruitvale Station, Creed, and both Black Panther movies, it has been both a box office success and hailed as one of the best films of the year. 

Despite the vampires and their gore, I really enjoyed the movie. The violence was Tarantino-esque, which is somehow more palatable to me. Michael B. Johnson's performances as both main characters were impressive, and the rest of the cast was great. I loved the musical production, and the set design and costumes were also awesome. 

The movie was quite sexually explicit, though, and seeing it with me may have made my friend a bit uncomfortable. "This is a very adult movie," he whispered a little apologetically during one racy scene.

"Fortunately, we're both adults," I whispered back.

Dismissed

I was waiting for my friend outside the movie theater at Courthouse Plaza when a guy walked by, talking loudly on his phone. "I was so close!" he said. "I actually made it into the room."

I idly wondered what he was talking about. Was it a raise?  A promotion? A job interview? None of those scenarios really fit, but then he was out of earshot, so I stopped thinking about it. 

A minute later, he paced by in the opposite direction, obviously still on the call. "I answered all the questions," he lamented. "I know I had the right attitude."

I still couldn't imagine what he was so worked up about.

"I would have made such a great juror!" he added.

Bingo! 

Practical Application

"Ugh! Why is it raining?" one student said to another today.

"We're literally studying weather!" his friend replied. "Figure it out!"

It Wasn't Horseshoes

"Who's that on your wallpaper?" I asked a student this morning.

"It's just a K-pop singer," she shrugged.

"Is it Rosé?" I said.

"You know her?" she replied in surprise.

"Oh sure," I waved my hand. "Toxic 'til the End, APT, and she's in Blackpink with Jennie and Lisa, right?"

"And who else?" she asked suspiciously.

"Um... I don't know," I admitted. "Who?"

"Jisoo!" she sighed, then shook her head in mild disgust and went back to work.

64,000 Dollar Question

"Your teacher will be back on Thursday!" I reminded the science classes today. "I know she will be super glad to see you again."

"Are you going to be here, too?" asked a student.

"No!" I laughed. "I think your teacher can handle the job without me."

"But you'll be at the school, right?" he said.

"No," I told him. "I'm retired, remember?"

He looked stunned. "Then what are you going to do all day?"

Duh!

I was standing outside, getting eaten by bugs, and trying to think of what plant I had forgotten to buy this weekend to put on the deck and the stoop. There were marigolds, portulaca, zinnias, petunias, sweet potato vine, begonias, lavender, thyme, basil, cilantro, lemongrass, calibrachoa, lantana, and scaviola. 

I slapped a mosquito and then slapped my forehead.

Um, it was citronella.

Tall Order

I get daily email notifications from a jobs website for open positions that some bot has determined might be a good match for my listed skills, experience, and credentials. Occasionally, there are some interesting opportunities, but I'm still waiting for something to really click when I check it out. 

Today, one of the jobs was for a full-time virtual English language teacher. The pay rate was pitiful, especially compared to what I was making before I retired, but worse than that was the job description. Take a look at the top two duties:

Job Duties

• Serve all stakeholders with integrity, humility, and joy while consistently modeling the importance of both task competency and relationships.
• Participate in Company events, activities, and meetings with a smile and an infectious, great attitude.

Am I out of line for being offended on behalf of my profession? 

Chicken Dinner

From time to time, I get an invitation from our satellite radio provider to enter to win tickets to a nearby show. The odds are dependent on how many people enter, so if it's an act we like, I usually take thirty seconds to click through the submission. That's what happened Wednesday when I got an offer to enter for tickets to the I Want My 80s Tour featuring Rick Springfield, Wang Chung, Paul Young, and John Waite. 

"Heidi would love this!" I said to myself, and I chose the June 6 show in Portsmouth, VA, from the 2 available locations since her friends and their two little girls just moved to Virginia Beach in March. I figured that if I won, we could spend a weekend at the beach, see the show, and visit our friends. Then I promptly forgot all about the sweepstakes.

Imagine the charge I got this morning when I checked my phone at lunch and saw the news that I won! And Heidi was thrilled.

Cloudy with a Chance of Irrelevance

"This is the dumbest thing!" a student complained the other day while practicing reading weather station symbols. "I will never, ever use this in my real life," he scoffed in disgust, tossing his paper aside. 

I couldn't contradict him; as fascinating as I personally found the exercise, I had made it to age 62 without knowing how to before.

In our state, the standardized middle school science test is given in eighth grade, and covers the curriculum from 6th, 7th, and 8th grades. I have listened sympathetically in the past as science teachers have complained about the inanity of that situation, and applauded their creativity in reviewing the material, even going so far as to have the sixth and seventh grade teachers teach the eighth grade classes for a day and review the units they had taught them in the years before. This year, there were some voluntary after-school review sessions for 8th graders, but I can't say how well they were attended. 

When I told one of the other sixth-grade science teachers the story about the kid who was complaining so bitterly about the weather station, she laughed and said, "There is one place he's going to need it. They always have a question on weather stations on the SOL."

My eyes widened a bit, and the gravity of teaching the weather unit weighed a little bit more on me, especially knowing the students might not revisit the material again until they saw it on the test two years from now. So today, when I saw one of the eighth-grade students I know after school, my first question was, "How was the science SOL?"

"Fine," he shrugged. "Easy. I finished it pretty quickly."

"Was there a question on weather?" I asked.

"Maybe?" he said. "To be honest, I've already forgotten."

Immovable

Once I found my breaker groove yesterday, it was not as bad as I thought. I spent my morning examining former colleagues' classrooms, ten minutes at a time, while kids I knew and didn't know read from their screens like zombies, tapping their selections to multiple-choice questions. Those students who were finished sat at their desks like airline passengers decades ago at the gate, waiting for a long-delayed flight. Without screens, a few read books, a couple did puzzles on paper, many stared into space, sighing, and a few tried to find a position comfortable enough to sleep. 

It made me sad for two reasons. First, I could see how dependent we have all become on our devices to fill our time. Second, I still don't quite get the ethics of forcing kids to stay in a room for hours to take a test that should only take a fraction of that time, even after taking into account that the policy is meant to discourage rushing.

Surprise! I'm still not a fan of universal high-stakes testing.

Breaker, Breaker

When I looked at the calendar for my sub gig, I figured that after years of successfully administering the state standardized test, I could step back into that role when testing day came. I was informed early on, though, that I was no longer considered qualified, which was fine, because I really don't like the job anyway. "We'll give you something else to do," the testing coordinator assured me after she thanked me for offering. 

And that's how I found myself added to the help spreadsheet as a "breaker/escort," which sounds racier than it is. Basically, my job is to watch the spreadsheet fill with all the trials and tribulations of testing, and spell any nearby teachers when they need a break. 

It's harder than it seems: I've already missed two bathroom breaks as I alternately wander the room, do a few word puzzles, answer texts from my nephew, and whatnot. I brought a book and my writing notebook, but after the previous lapses, I don't know if I should crack those open. As always, testing day has proven itself to be an inconvenient nuisance, which is not comforting in the least.

Here ends my rant: someone needs a break!

Applied Social Skills

A teacher friend had a graduation party for her daughter over the weekend. "How'd the big event go?" I asked her this morning as we stood in the hallway with a couple of other teachers.

"It was great," she reported. Good weather, good food!" Her face clouded a bit. "But at the last minute, my dad couldn't make it. He said he wasn't feeling well, and then yesterday, he actually ended up in the hospital with pneumonia," she added.

"Pneumonia!" another colleague said. "That's what got the Pope."

"That's not helpful," I snapped. "It's a 'think-it', not a 'say-it'."

Everyone's eyebrows shot up and we stood in uncomfortable silence, because what I had just said might have been a think-it, too. 

Just Sow

I wasn't very organized about starting seeds this year. I usually commandeer the guest bathroom as a makeshift grow house, but that's tough when you have houseguests during that time, so I put it off until after Josh and Kyle were here. 

By then, it seemed a little late to start a full-fledged growing operation, so I tried a few small-scale, experimental projects. One involved sprouting pepper seeds on a paper towel in a ziplock bag. I kept it on the warming pad at night and placed it on a sunny windowsill during the day. 

Another technique was to sprout a handful of pumpkin seeds in a takeout container. I kept the lid on it on the warming pad until green shoots poked up, and then they were off to the windowsill, too. Not too long after, it was late enough in the spring to put them in a sheltered spot on the deck covered by a shallow plastic bin that functioned as a wee greenhouse. 

That was the extent of my early planting, but both the peppers and the pumpkins are thriving, the squash is in the garden already, and I have 15 small pepper plants growing in individual pots on the deck. In fact, the success of both projects encouraged me to start some beans in a glass jar like we used to do for science experiments in elementary school, and to plant some more squash and some sunflowers too. 

In addition, this weekend I sowed some lemon grass and planted a few hanging pots with basil, mint, and cilantro. All in all? I'm pleased with my planting progress. Every year is different, and honestly, anything that grows is a gift.

Close to My Recent Average

So far, my media holiday is going well; I'm well on my way to breaking the habit of checking and rechecking several news outlets throughout the day. I think? I feel a bit better, too, although since this has coincided with a return to teaching, there are too many variables to tell for sure.

Even so, although I haven't actively sought out news, I'm not entirely uninformed. I know, for instance, that there is a new, American-born pope, that Grand Theft Auto VI has been delayed, and that the president wants to reopen Alcatraz. I guess those things are just in the air, or something. 

I will also say that when I did the weekly news quiz for the hell of it the other day, I simply used inference and deduction to answer the questions I didn't know, and my score was comparable to every other week. I guess that's more evidence that there's not much downside to taking a break from the 24-hour news cycle.

Thanks for That!

This morning, the homeroom kids were doing a weekly news quiz. It was the one with a blurred-out graphic for each question, which is revealed along with the answer. 

"The release of which highly anticipated video game has been delayed until May 2026?" read a student from the screen.

"Oh, that's easy!" answered one of her classmates gesturing toward the lilac and black blobs. "It's GTA 6!" He paused and looked around. "Any true gamer knows that instantly. I've actually been waiting for it since I was one."

The other kids raised their eyebrows.

"Five came out for X-box in 2014, and I was born in 2013," he finished proudly.

"You've been playing Grand Theft Auto since you were one?" asked a girl incredulously. "That's not disturbing at all!"

I laughed and jotted down the exchange. Spending time with kids always provides writing material!

Hiatus

Even though I'm only teaching one-tenth of it, I've gotten to experience several pretty big occasions of this school year. Not only have I administered two end-of-year assessments, but I will also be there for the Reading SOL next week. Today, I attended the Spring Music Concert and dealt with the wacky schedule that comes with it, and this week is Teacher Appreciation Week.

I didn't expect much appreciation after only 2 1/2 weeks, so I was pleasantly surprised when one of the kids presented me with a bag of chocolates and a thank-you note. I was also touched when a former student brought me a handmade wooden plaque of appreciation from Tech Ed. My colleagues made sure I got some breakfast from the PTA, too. 

But today, when they gave out the matching staff t-shirts and I didn't have one to wear, it really hit home that I don't entirely belong there anymore. As one of the few adults dressed differently,  I felt a little sad and left out, especially in the assembly. I had worn a t-shirt from last year to show the sixth graders what they could expect to receive at the end-of-the-year activity, and that one bright yellow shirt in a sea of black only made it worse.

Oh, I'll survive. Today on our way to the car, I asked Heidi if she minded if we stopped at the grocery store on the way home. "I know you're busy and tired," I apologized.

"Don't worry," she reassured me. "You'll be retired again soon."

Like Father, Like Son

As I walked through the courtyard toward the stairs to collect the mail, I met my young neighbor, Eamon, and his dad walking toward me to head up the stairs, too. 

"Hello!" Eamon waved. At nearly five, he's pretty adorable and very outgoing. 

"Hello!" I answered with equal cheer as they hit the bottom step. I waited a moment and then followed. "Wasn't that nice of us to say hello to a neighbor?" Eamon asked his dad proudly.

"Yes, it was," his dad agreed.

"It makes your neighbors feel special," I added from behind.

"Well," smiled his dad, turning around. "That's easy when you have such awesome neighbors!"

"I see where Eamon gets his charm," I laughed. "Right back at ya!"

Relatively Speaking

I was sitting at the teacher's desk this morning, checking attendance, when I overheard a sixth grader say, "Back in my day? We used to have Minecraft on this game site."

"When was that?" I asked him.

"Oh!" he scoffed, "Fourth grade."

"That long ago?" I replied.

He didn't detect any irony, and I was glad because I didn't mean to make him feel bad.

"Yep," he said and then shook his head sadly. "Things have really changed since then."

Neglected

I was dismayed to find the top had blown off my little potting shed when I went to the garden yesterday. All the tools and containers in the top compartment were soaking in a half-inch of rainwater, so before I could do anything else, I needed to empty them and clean up the mess. 

By the time I was finished, though, I thought it may have been for the best, since I couldn't remember the last time I had organized that space. (I was still a little regretful that all the gloves were soaked through, especially since that meant weeding barehanded for the rest of the afternoon.) After filling five garden bags full of weeds and whatnot, I felt some fat drops of rain on my face, and I hurried to put away all the things I had drying so that I could replace the lid and secure it with the big rock I usually use to keep it from blowing open. 

Looking for a place to put the gloves so they would continue drying, I opened the right side of the lower cupboard and pulled out some plant saucers. There I saw the mummified remains of a little mouse who had made a cozy home of shredded landscape fabric and wood chips. I shoved my hands into a pair of wet gloves to dispose of the poor fellow and vowed to give that shed a thorough cleaning this summer.

Learn Something New Every Day

I used to think that being in sixth grade for 30+ years familiarized me with the content, not just of my own subject area, but of the other disciplines, too, and so I could basically teach anything. My recent experience in science has shown me that, while I wasn't wrong, I still have some things to learn. 

Oh, I've got the pedagogy down, but to be quite honest, it's been decades since I thought about the weather in more than a how should I dress and will it impact my schedule? kind of a way, and I don't think I've really considered the Earth's atmosphere at all since I learned the basics back in my own middle school science class. That's all changed over the last two weeks, though. 

Preparing for the layers of the atmosphere lesson had me scratching my head wondering where "space" begins and how far Katy Perry actually traveled. As a corollary, I spent some time today reading about those extreme skydivers who actually fell to Earth from the stratosphere, breaking the sound barrier along the way, only to land safely on the ground. Finally, the information that although the temperature in the thermosphere can reach thousands of degrees, it probably doesn't feel hot because the molecules are so far apart completely blew my mind. 

As I write this, there is a gorgeous rainbow right outside the window, reminding me of all I have yet to learn—for example, the unusual weather pattern we are experiencing now, an "omega block" that has two fronts stalled over the U.S. and is delivering rain to about two-thirds of the country. How can anyone not like science?

Marketing

Temporarily back to our pre-retirement routine, we spent a few hours running errands today. One of our stops was Costco, but we drove to a different warehouse than usual to see if they had a pair of pants Heidi admired, which were out in her size at our location. The place was hopping, hardly surprising for a Saturday noon, but we lucked out on parking and found the pants right away. Then, since we were there, we agreed to look around a bit.

Even though we were less than 7 miles from home, some of the inventory was different: this store caters to some clients with larger houses than ours, so they carry some enormous sheds, lots of home pool supplies, and they even have an outdoor plant center. They also offered a lot more sample stations than our Costco, which I welcomed since I hadn't had lunch. 

As I made my way around, I tried stuffed flat bread, a chicken sandwich, chicken taquitos, and some chips and salsa. They were all pretty good, but I was glad for the small portions, because they were kind of salty and I was hungry, so I might have been tempted to eat more than I should have. 

The last thing I tasted was a creamy cilantro sauce that was delicious. "Thanks!" I said to the lady handing out the little paper cups, as I grabbed a bottle. "You just made a sale!"

"You're welcome, Mama," she winked. "Have a good day!"

How Could They Not?

This afternoon, a former colleague and fellow gardener offered to hook me up with some tomato seedlings the garden club had started at school. "Can you come down to Kayla's room?" she texted during my planning time at the end of the day.

"Sure!" I replied. "On the way." 

I almost added, "Mr. Golden's old room, right?" but confident in my knowledge of the building, even after a year's absence, I exited my temporary classroom and headed around the corner and down the hall. Making a left past the library, I stopped short at a closed door. The nameplate told me that this was no longer Kayla's room. 

I snapped my fingers, seeming to recall she had moved to the end of the building into the science suite, and I made a right and walked briskly in that direction. Just as I was about to investigate those rooms, my phone buzzed again.

"256" was the terse message, and a moment later, "by the teacher's lounge."

I gave it a thumbs up and spun around 180 degrees. I guess a few things have changed since I left.

Just Long Enough

My teaching this year has been compressed into four weeks, but even so, I recognize the compressed patterns of a regular school year. Tomorrow is the midpoint of my sub job, and I find myself looking forward to the end. (I actually told myself "just two more Thursdays" today, and then laughed at my lack of stamina.) 

In addition, some of the routines I've instituted, which were fun and novel for a minute, are getting stale, so I'm feeling the need to change things up a bit. As in any school year, my stint has been interrupted by testing, and the aggravation of that egregious requirement came right back. 

Next week will be my third quarter, though, and I'm hoping I can count on a day or two of enjoying that sweet spot where everyone knows the routine and things just flow. Then it's on to my last week, which will fall right in the middle of the actual fourth quarter, when the kids start falling apart. 

A veteran teacher with a solid bond to her students can usually keep things together, though, and so it's a good thing their teacher will be back! And my "summer vacation"? Will begin!