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.

Speed Bump

I was sitting in the comfy chair next to my colleague's desk when the dismissal bell didn't ring this afternoon. They had turned all the bells off for state testing, and without that common clarion of freedom, the halls were quite a bit less chaotic as teachers dismissed their classes on a more natural, rolling basis. Friday afternoon stretched agreeably ahead.

Even so, a few minutes later, I heard a commotion outside the room. Strident voices were met with the even tone of the social studies teacher. It sounded like it might be near my classroom next door, but from where I sat, I couldn't see what was going on, nor could I quite make out what they were saying. There were a lot of "she's" though, accusatory from the kids, and explanatory from the teacher.

Suddenly it dawned on me what they were discussing.

"Shit!" I swore. "I'm late for Anime Club!"

Bee There or Bee Square

"Thank you for coming!" one of my colleagues who helped organize the school spelling bee said to me this afternoon.

"You don't have to thank me," I told her, "I wouldn't miss it!"

"Really?" she said, "but it's soooo bad."

"So bad it's good!" I answered.

And it's true-- the student council kids run the event after school, and although teachers are encouraged to have preliminary competitions, at this time of year, literally any kid who shows up gets a seat on the stage. All the kids are so darned earnest about it, too, reading and spelling words in what they must think of as their most mature voices.

"Could you repeat that?" contestants often squint at the lectern.

"Can you use it in a sentence?" they will ask the kids at the judges table, and after a flurry of fingers on key boards, someone will officiously put some form of the word, not necessarily the form that has been asked, into an often quite cryptic fragment.

The spellers nod their heads in knowing appreciation, lean into the microphone and let the letters rip.

Back in Sorts

I confess to being a bit out of sorts as I left school at 4:30 this afternoon: It was too late to drop Heidi off and have any hope of finding parking at the gym; despite a rare no-teaching day tomorrow, I still had a lot left undone; the weather was hot and unpleasantly sticky. But on the way home it occurred to me that our pool was open-- I could put on my suit and get a little workout up there.

And that is what I did (after slogging through the temptation of simply staying home and squashing the anxiety of that first visit to the pool).

When I arrived, several families with young children were splashing in the shallows, and a couple was lounging in chairs by the diving board, but I had the deep end to myself. The water was perfect, and I swam and treaded and treaded and swam, watching the kids and clouds, and becoming ever more buoyant with each passing moment.

Wear and Tear

Other years: Yay! Memorial Day! Only three and a half weeks until summer!

This year: Oh... Memorial Day? What do you mean there's still three and half weeks until summer?

Baby Bottles

"My reading teacher called my dad," sighed that student who often hangs out in the afternoon.

"I heard," I told her. "I also heard you were cradling your new Hydro Flask like a baby, and singing to it during class."

"Well..." she said and then laughed. "I just love it!" Her expression turned stormy. "But now my dad took it away for a month."

I thought of her today when I used my annual coupon at the outdoor coop store to buy my own, limited edition, Keiki Rainbow Hydro Flask. After I carefully affixed the first sticker to it, I held it up to admire the pleasing blush of the sunset colors on my new water bottle...

...and then resisted the impulse to give it a little hug.

Last-Ditch

The top rack of our dishwasher is starting to fall apart-- a little plastic connector is broken from one of the side rollers, so the whole thing sags on one side. I could order a replacement rack, but it would cost about 150 dollars, which is well on the way to paying for a new dishwasher. Still, it's galling to dispose of a working appliance because of some small part.

I should know, I just went through it with my stove. A screw hole on the handle was stripped, and after ordering replacement screws (18 bucks) and then a replacement handle (35 bucks), neither of which worked, the whole door to the oven fell apart. A replacement door was not much less than a replacement range, and so we have a nice new stove in the kitchen.

I foresee a similar situation with the dishwasher, but before I give in completely, I ordered a package of Sugru, the amazing moldable glue that sticks to almost anything and cures in 24 hours to a solid silicone. I gotta say-- the stuff is amazing! Temperature resistant from -58 to 350 degrees, dishwasher proof, weatherproof, saltwater proof, and electrically insulating, one only need look at their Instagram feed full of images of clever repairs, hacks, and crafts.

And step one of my repair is curing as we speak. Will I be able to save the dishwasher? Time will tell, but this attempt has been totally worth it!

Elemental

The bonus challenge for writers the other day was to choose which element fit them best and explain why. Was it earth, air, fire, or water? There were some very interesting conversations, to be sure.

"I'm iron," one kid told me, "Fe. Because I'm strong."

"Not those elements," I corrected him. "But I'll be sure to tell the science teacher that you are on it!"

"I'm water, because I like to swim," said another.

It was a little prosaic, but she's 12."

"I don't get it," another kid told me. "How can I be those things?"

"Think figuratively," I told him, "not literally."

"I think I'm fire then," he said, "because I have a temper."

And so it went:

"I'm earth, because people say I'm grounded."

"I'm air because I'm quiet, until I'm not!"

I remembered those conversations today as I planted our hanging baskets and power-washed the deck. "Who wouldn't want to be water?" I thought, "Both gentle and strong."

What's Fair and What's Easy

It was somewhat in the interest of equity that the state testing schedule was made at our school, but not exactly. Over six testing days, most teachers average one planning and/or meeting period per day, down from the contractual two. On each actual day, however, that number ranges from 0-4.

And so while today I met with all five of my classes and then saw two of the sections for a second time, wrangling 29 sixth graders through an unusual schedule on the Friday after a big test and before a three-day weekend, not for one period, but two, at least one of my colleagues dipped out at 11, because she was done for the day after teaching two classes with five students.

Maybe it's just the lingering tension headache talking, but that doesn't seem equitable to me.

Delayed Reaction

I was working in my classroom a little before 4 this afternoon when the sky outside my window turned as dark as night, and a fierce wind bent trees and spun loose construction material in circles around the abandoned equipment. A visceral sense of foreboding had me considering whether my desk might be shelter enough should the storm intensify.

When the rain started, the room seemed to shrink, and the view was like the one through the windshield in a carwash. Construction workers huddled in the shell they had built, and waterfalls cascaded from the corners of the unfinished roof across the way. Just then, a strident alarm sounded from my phone- a tornado warning. Circular motion had been detected within the storm a few miles to the east.

In the west, though, the sky was beginning to lighten, and there was a noticeable decrease in the rain fall. The worst of the weather had clearly passed, at least for the time being. Any staff and students in the building must seek shelter at ground level. As the administration cleared the area, I packed up my things, and headed into the lightening afternoon.

The Throne

When you have over a thousand people involved in a mass standardized testing situation, there are going to be some lines for the bathrooms.

"Do you need a break?" the hall monitor whispered to me as she ushered the 15th sixth grader who had left the room to pee back in. It was 10 AM, and to be honest? I rarely hit the head before 11, which is my lunch time, but the moment she offered my bladder told me that yes, indeed, a break would be much appreciated.

I made my way to the staff lavs in the front office, passing 4 lines of several students each waiting silently for their turn in the restrooms. Even so, I was a bit dismayed when I found both of the adult bathroom doors closed and locked. Did I grimace? Did I sigh? Whatever it was, the office staff engaged me in sympathetic conversation as I waited. So much so, that a voice soon floated from the principal's office. "Ms. S! You can come in here and use my restroom!"

I froze. In the nearly 26 years I have worked in that building, rumors of the principal having his or her own private bathroom have floated through the halls like flying unicorns.

"Ms. S?" she repeated. "You better get in here!"

I entered the office where I had been many times before, but to be honest, I had no idea where the bathroom could even be. The principal directed me down a short hallway to my right, where a standard wooden door stood ajar. Flipping the light switch, I entered a smaller, less worn version of the restrooms I was used to. It had the same open commode, brown floor tile, cinder block walls, industrial porcelain sink, and steel paper towel and soap dispensers, but it also had some framed art work, a narrow cabinet with colorful, neatly-folded hand towels, and scented hand soap.

A clothes hook over the door made it impossible to close it all the way, and so rather than rearrange things, I tinkled quietly, cringed at the mighty flush of the 40-year-old toilet, and quickly washed my hands (with the standard soap).

On my way out, I thanked the principal again and laughed. "Now I can cross that off my bucket list!" I told her.

Flexible and Rigid

"Some people don't do well with lots of change to their routine," I told my homeroom this morning as I went over the testing schedule for the next few weeks. "I know, because I'm one of them."

They nodded sympathetically. "You look cranky already!" one of them said, but I knew he meant well."

Only To Be Expected

The room was small, and the odor was strong. The laughter was loud.

"You don't have to be so mean!" complained the gassy kid to his overly amused classmates.

"Neither do you!" Heidi pointed out. "It is expected behavior to excuse yourself if you feel like you have to pass gas."

"I'm sorry," apologized one of the other students insincerely, "but I will laugh whenever someone farts."

Heidi opened the door to let in a little air and eyed the four 8th grade boys crossly. "You would never know that this was a social skills class!" she said.

New Old-fashioned Way

Beyond pulling all the weeds? I really had no plans for the garden this weekend. With a little, okay a lot of! help from Treat and Heidi, I figured we would clear it out and plant it as usual next weekend with several rows made up of a variety of tomatoes, peppers, okra, and eggplant.

But yesterday afternoon I opened an email from a seed company and clicked on a video link for "three sisters" planting. Sure, I had heard of the Indian approach to growing corn, beans, and squash, but I had never considered it before. 5 minutes later? I was sold!

And so the blazing 2pm sun of the first 90 degree day this year found the three of us constructing a mound in the middle of the cleared-out garden. There, in the center, we planted the "peaches and cream" corn seedlings that I hurried out to get yesterday. Around them, a circle of cowpeas, that will add nitrogen to the soil, and use the corn stalks to support them as they grow. Next weekend, a ring of squash will complete the arrangement, which was inspired by the Wampanoag tradition. The squash will use the nitrogen and shade the soil they all are growing in, keeping it moist.

We may add a fourth or fifth sister to the inner circle-- our sources say that sunflowers and amaranth distract the birds from the corn, but the rest of the garden will be planted concentrically, in circles circling the mound. Those tomatoes, peppers, okra, and eggplant will be growing in a totally new configuration, and I for one?

Am excited!

Double Trouble

We went out with some friends from the neighborhood the other night. It makes us giggle when Tracey and Tracie, Heidi and Heidi, and Lauren and Lauren get together. The six of us checked out the rooftop bar at a new restaurant in our neighborhood. There, T-squared took on Heidi and Lauren in cornhole, while the other Heidi and Lauren grabbed a picnic table and ordered some appetizers and beers. We had the attention of many of our fellow patrons, which is something I usually avoid, but not then. Maybe because I was with my posse!

Your Reservation is Ready

You know you have a tough group when you hear the following conversation in the main office on May 17:

"I think the sixth graders are checking out already," an administrator sighed to a teacher.

The teacher laughed shortly. "I wasn't aware they ever checked in."

Making It Up

"How do you spell magistical?" a student asked me this morning.

"I don't know that word," I said. "Do you mean magical or mystical?"

"Yes," she said.

Complimentary, My Dear Child

The Jolly Rancher Challenge today was one of the questions on the generic starter list that students used to prepare for their first interviews-- What is the best compliment you have ever received?

For such a simple question, the results were a bit of a disheartening social science experiment I did not intend.

"When my dad told me I was the sweetest child he ever knew," one of the smartest girls I ever knew reported.

"My friend said I'm a really good friend!" the next girl said.

"Someone told me I have good eyebrows," said the next girl.

I couldn't stay silent. "That's the best compliment you ever got? You're so smart and hard-working! You write every day!"

She shrugged and held out her hand for the candy.

A boy was in line behind her. "I like it when my friends say I'm good at basketball," he said.

"I was happy when someone said I was pretty!" the next girl told me.

"What about your personality?" I said. "What do people say about that?"

"That I'm nice?" she asked, waiting for her Jolly Rancher.

"I'm reliable," said the next boy.

"I'm smart," said his friend.

"I'm funny," said another guy.

"We have the same one," said the next girl, standing next to her friend.

"People always tell us we have beautiful eyes!"

"You do," I said, "but you didn't exactly earn those. What else do people say?"

They sighed. "Sometimes my friends tell me I should be a counselor, because I'm so understanding," suggested one.

"Great!" I said handing her the candy.

"People think I'm really good at soccer," said the other one.

"Yes!" I cheered and tossed her a piece of candy.

And as the day wore on, the trend continued. Most of the girls valued appearance compliments, and most of the boys selected behavior compliments. 

One Step Forward, One Step Backwards

With five and a half weeks of school left, that last period class is still one of the most dysfunctional groups I've ever worked with. As we do every. single. day. my co-teacher and I collapsed in chairs when the last student left the room.

"I had my evaluation meeting today," he told me.

"How'd that go?" I asked.

"Good. She just asks three questions to get you to reflect on the year," he said.

"What did you say?" I asked, thinking What will I say?

I laughed when he was finished. "You didn't mention this class?"

"No," he said, "but you feel free!" 

Overlap

It was still raw and rainy when we woke this morning-- yesterday's unseasonably cold, damp weather had hung around. Did I mind lacing up boots and pulling on a sweater over my jeans and t-shirt in the middle of May? I can't say that I did. Soon enough, days too warm for comfort will be here, and so I enjoyed the comfort of warm clothes one more day.

Reverse Shopping

We spent the day in an unusual way for us-- returning things that didn't work out the way we thought they would when we bought them. We hopscotched from mall to strip shopping center to box store to outdoor gear co-op to good old Target and returned home with more money in our accounts than when we left.

Weird!

Self-Care

Today was a ukulele playing, gym workout, haircut kind of a day.

Just what I needed.

Dime a Dozen

Heidi stopped by my room today after school today and found one of the regulars hanging out making a 2D model of the Hydro Flask she was hoping her dad would buy her this weekend out of modeling clay. "Are you going to come back and visit Ms. S. next year when you're in 7th grade?" she asked.

The student shook her head.

"Oh, I think you will," Heidi smiled. "You really seem to like it here."

"I'm going to another school next year," the student sighed, "boundary changes," she explained.

Heidi nodded sympathetically.

"It's okay, though," the student said. "I'm sure I'll find another cat-loving, ukulele-playing teacher over there."

I snorted and almost spit out my water.

"They're not as uncommon as you think," she told me.

Spreading the Sweetness Around

The Jolly Rancher Challenge for the day was for students to express their appreciation for a teacher and then come tell me about it. I figured it would be encouragement for kids to say what they were thinking anyway, and for the most part I was right. Once they started thanking, the candy really did become secondary to most.

Many students wanted to appreciate me, mostly because I was standing right there with a bag of Jolly Ranchers, but I stopped them. "Not me," I told them, "another teacher. There are plenty of them around here!"

"Why?" asked one girl. "I do appreciate you! You're my favorite teacher!"

"Thanks," I said, "but--" I hesitated.

"It would be pretty pathetic for you to give candy for compliments, right?" she finished.