Comforts of Home

We are away from home for over a week this holiday season, and as fun and exciting as it is to spend time with those we love most, it's always a challenge for me to pack. If we are driving, it's a little easier, because more of the things I think I might need or want can fit, but I've found that no matter how much you bring, there's always something you wish you had.

When they were little, my older nephews used to spend a lot of time at our house. Even though they lived close by, there were many fun weekends and overnights. I like to think it was almost a second home to them, and I know they were very comfortable there. Even so, there were times when they missed little things, too. Oh, not their toothbrushes, which rarely made it, or even clean underwear, which was never a big priority, either. I clearly remember a time, though, when Treat was only about four and still pretty recently potty-trained. He was very good about making it to the bathroom, but once there, our toilet seat was just too big and too hard. "Ohhhh," he lamented, "I wish Mommy packed my cushy tushy."

I know just how he felt. "Ohhhh," I lamented this morning, "I wish I packed my other sneakers."

Short Day's Journey into the Night

We were driving north through the rain yesterday, the shortest day of the year. By 4:30 we were gathered in a thick gloom, and 5:30 was like midnight as we drove along a secondary road on our route. The darkness, fog, and spray from every oncoming car made the trip feel treacherous, but the Christmas lights on almost every house and in every little town we passed shined through the misty blackness, casting a merry glow and guiding us on our way.

Holiday Rush

I admit it: sometimes I get caught up in the hectic pace of things. Just the other day, as I was race-walking from one end of the building to the other with less than ten minutes to pee, eat lunch, and get back to the computer lab, a friend and colleague saw me from way up the hall. She waved and gestured that she needed to talk to me. I kept on coming at full speed. She turned and disappeared in the direction of her office. I made the decision to keep on walking and touch base with her later (I really needed to pee), but as I passed, I saw her coming out of her office.

"Wait!" she called.

I slowed briefly and wave impatiently. "C'mon!" I said. "Let's walk and talk, walk and talk. I've got a lot to do in a little time."

She quickened her pace and met me at the doorway holding up a bright little gift bag. I came to a full stop, sheepish and speechless.

Another of our co-workers had witnessed the whole thing. She pointed her finger at me. "What do you have to say now?" she asked, eyebrows quite high.

"Thank you," I said, "and I'm really sorry. Really"

My friend looked at the other woman and laughed. "Oh! She talks to me like this all the time!" Then she turned to me. You're welcome! Now go to the bathroom!"

Hall Patrol

The design of our school has two wide hallways that run the entire length of the building. Such a span of interrupted space can be very tempting to the energetic middle schooler, and many a student must be reminded to slow down and walk on those stretches.

I sympathize-- a long time ago when I was one of only two summer school teachers working in the building, on the days when I rode my bike to school, there were times when I just kept on riding once I was inside. It was exhilarating to pedal past the library, the soft illicit whir of my tires on the carpet the only sound in the empty building.

These days I'm often on the enforcement side of hall traffic, with decidedly mixed results. For example, just the other day a student ran past me at full speed. "Whoa!" I hollered as I raised my hands to flag him down. He skidded to a halt, spun around, and pointed his finger at himself questioningly. I nodded. He sprinted back to see what I wanted.

Then today, a student of mine stayed after class and into our lunch period to finish up on an assignment in the computer lab. With barely 10 minutes left in the period, I encouraged him to go eat. He packed his things and hurried out of the lab. He had a minute or so head start on me when I turned the corner on that long corridor. He's kind of a big guy, more than a little heavy set, and as I watched him up ahead of me I could tell he thought was running, but there was just no need to stop him, because he was well within the speed limit.

Pen Envy

We had our annual book fair at school last week, and as usual, the excitement among the students was very high. I remember myself from elementary days when the book mobile would come; I wanted every book and cool little trinket they had to offer. Kids today are no different, although it's always a little disappointing that so many seem to be much more interested in the junky stuff and posters than in the actual books.

Our PTA sponsors the book fair and although they profit from it, they are also very generous. Teachers are given 5.00 discount coupons to give to students we think may not be able to afford a book otherwise. I did say "book", because the kids are not supposed to use their discount on any of the tschotskes, but rather toward the price of an actual book with words and stuff. Even so, there are always students who can get around such rules (how, I'll be darned if I know), and I happen to have one such clever lad right now. He took the coupon I gave him and returned with a huge pen, a pen with several colors of ink that is so large that it seems very laborious to write with. It's gotta be the diameter of a broomstick and at least ten inches long.

It is also a pen that with very little stretch of the imagination is rather distinctly anatomical in shape, and let me tell you folks, the eleven-year-old boys love this pen.  Several purchased them, and they seem to like waving them and showing them to others. They also like clicking them to change the ink color, although rarely do they actually do much writing with them. No, they just seem to like having them; in fact those who are stuck with their regular little writing utensils are forever grabbing their friend's pen and pretending it's theirs.

Is it a coincidence that not a single girl bought one of these pens? I think not.

Who Buys That?

I heard this week that an Alabama law designed to fight corruption by limiting all public employees from accepting anything of "significant value" from the public has put the holiday tradition of giving your teacher a present on hold. In fact, teachers could conceivably be arrested for taking gifts from their students' families.

In Alabama, they say that this was an unintended consequence of the law and plans are already underway to change it so that apples and gift cards will once again be on the big desk in every classroom. In Germany, gifts to teacher are strictly verboten-- they are considered bribes and therefore unethical.

Coincidentally, just this week, several friends have consulted me about how much is appropriate to give to teacher at this time of year. A couple of questions were connected to the Alabama situation, but others were not, and everyone wanted to know how to express their sincere gratitude without going overboard. Is a hundred dollars too much? someone actually asked.

It's ironic that they should be asking me. I work in a school where, compared to some of the more affluent schools just a few miles away in the very same district, teachers are somewhat "under gifted." I have friends who do get hundreds of dollars in cash and gift cards, and one who even received Springsteen tickets once. I sometimes get a card and a candy cane, or a mug and some cookies, and although the occasional coffee card finds its way to my desk, most families don't give me anything.

I'm fine with how things are. I know my students and their families appreciate me and I don't feel at all deprived, but I have to be honest and say that such a disparity along clearly socio-economic lines makes me wonder if perhaps the Germans have the right idea.

Hometown

I saw one of my students when I was out shopping this afternoon. That doesn't happen quite as often as it could, considering I live and work in the same small county. Even so, over the years I've had some memorable encounters. There was the girl who screamed and ran away to hide in Target, the mother who did not recognize me and chased me down in the grocery store after she saw me talking with her son in the produce section, and the family who quite insistently invited me out for lunch right then and there (I declined, several times).

Today, though, it was hard to tall if my student actually saw me, although at one point he nearly collided with me. I pulled up short and he jetted on his way without a word. Such behavior is not out of character for him, and if I had approached his mother, it definitely would have been to express my concerns about him. As it turned out, I didn't speak to them, even though we were in parallel lanes checking out at the same time. I was watching him as I waited, and had he acknowledged me, I would have gone over. His attention was intensely directed at several things for very short spans of time, and I wondered if he was avoiding me.

When we were done at the register, they were, too, and since they were closer to the door, we walked out behind them. Well, we walked, and so did his mom, but he literally danced his way out the door and across the parking lot.

"Yeah," Heidi said, "I think his mom has probably heard what you were going to say before. Maybe more than once."