To Market

We are down to the last 6 quarts of tomatoes that we canned last summer, so today seemed like a perfect time to shop for seeds. Each packet that I added electronically to my virtual cart came along with a thumbnail photo of what it would eventually yield, so that I could practically envision my garden as I checked out. I've got to hand it to the company-- that colorful column of herbs, tomatoes, eggplant, okra, peppers, squash, pumpkins, and daisies certainly made parting with my money a lot more palatable.

Enough Rope

We have a student this year who is totally invested in being "bad". He's a smart kid, smart enough to have figured out that grades lower than a C get you the kind of trouble he doesn't want to deal with, and smart enough to know that an unending series of annoyances may get you isolated temporarily from the class but rarely will result in a referral to the administration. Still, he is eleven, and so a miscalculation here and there is inevitable.

Today was team t-shirt day. This is an annual tradition: the front is always designed by a student and voted on by all the kids, and the back has their names written in their own handwriting, so it's pretty cool. This year they were extra awesome given the fact that students had the choice of two tie-dye shades, and it was with a lot of excitement that they received their shirts this morning.

I was prepared for a bit of distraction in each class, but when I walked over to see what this guy was doing instead of the assignment, I was surprised to see him blacking out names with a permanent marker. "Are those the kids you don't like?" I asked in a bit of disbelief.

"Yeah!" he answered me enthusiastically (remorse is really not his thing), "and I've highlighted the names of the kids I like!"

"Yeah, I''m going to have to take that from you," I told him.

"OK, but don't look at the names of the people I like," he said cheerfully. "That would be embarrassing."

I assured him I wasn't really interested in that information, and then continued on with the lesson. After class he asked for his shirt back, but I told him I was going to have to hang on to it for a while.

It was much later in the day when I looked at his handiwork. I was on my way to speak to the principal about him, and grabbed the shirt as one more example of his inappropriate behavior as I headed to the office. My jaw dropped as I walked. Not only had he marked other kids, but he had also applied his system to the faculty names. Oh, I was highlighted (lord knows why), but the principal was crossed out.

I'm pretty sure there are going to be some consequences for that.

Duty Done

The courtroom was silent when I entered this morning, despite the ten people scattered about on the polished wooden benches. I checked in with the juror coordinator and then took a seat near the back, near the wall. I was impressed by the room. Ten stories up, it had 30 foot ceilings and a blockbuster view from the full-length windows behind the jury box. It was way nicer than anything I've ever seen on TV or in the movies.

It turned out that I did know someone there, the clerk of the court. I met him at a couple of parties almost 20 years ago, and our paths have crossed here and there, at restaurants, meetings, and dog parks since then. He was on the county board for several years, and I had forgotten about his more recent appointment.

Anyway, after our orientation, we moved to the jury assembly room, more high ceilings and awesome views, but the squeakiest door I ever heard-- after a while, anytime someone went for water or coffee, it was excruciating. They gave each of us three crisp ten dollar bills and then at 11 announced that the only case for the day had been settled and we were free to go, ineligible to return for three years.

So that was it. My big experience with our justice system kind of slowed to a halt like a roller coaster on a steep hill, and for a moment, my day hung there motionless until I realized what I could do with such unexpected free time. And then I was racing down the track-- lunch at my favorite sandwich place, grocery shopping, picking up the CSA share, a hair cut, and back to school for writing club and a wrestling match, then on to the gym, and home to cook dinner.

I Am Number Eight

I was talking to a colleague in the hall this afternoon about the possibility that I may have jury duty tomorrow, when a passing parent overheard our conversation.

"Jury duty!" she interjected and I liked her enthusiasm. It had just the right mix of awe and surprise to capture my own feelings about this unprecedented experience, and when I explained to her how it works, that you never know until 5 PM, whether you have to report, her sympathetic grasp of this colossal inconvenience was also quite gratifying.

"My husband's a litigator," she confided to me. "He always says 'no teachers on the jury!'."

"Why?!" I gasped.

"Oh, it's not just him, either," she continued. "It's like a lawyer's rule of thumb."

"But why?" I asked again.

"Oh you teachers," she said. "It's your job to get up in front of people and convince them of things. He's afraid you won't be on his side, and then you'll sway the whole jury. It's too risky."

A couple of hours later I checked in with my official juror ID. Yep. This teacher is scheduled to report tomorrow at 9 AM. Look out litigators! Here I come.

Is He the One?

We live in a very small community that borders a national capital, in many ways the ideal combination of small town and world class city. So, when I told my sister-in-law I had jury duty she said, "You are definitely going to know someone else in the pool. There's no way around it."

I knew she was right; not only because she's smart about those things and had recently reported for her own duty and run into someone we both know, but also because it makes sense: as I said it's a small town, and we're both teachers who have lived here a long time. Shoot, I can't even go to Costco without seeing at least one friend or acquaintance.

Still, I wondered and even fretted a little about who it might be. What if it was someone I would rather avoid? Then, in all the will-I, won't-I uncertainty of the week, I totally forgot my concern. This afternoon after the bell rang one of my former students stopped by to visit. "You should definitely judge my science fair project tomorrow," she said.

"Oh I'd love to," I told her, "IF I'm here... I might have jury duty."

"My dad has jury duty!" she said. "He didn't have to go yesterday, but he went today. Maybe you'll see him tomorrow!"

Epilogue: I won't see him tomorrow (unless it's at the science fair). Nobody has to report; we got an email that all the pending trials were resolved today. But there's always Thursday...

Box Seat?

I was mildly alarmed when I received my jury questionnaire some months ago. I have lived and been registered to vote in this county for over 20 years with never a summons. Of course, I did my civic duty, which at that point only involved answering a few questions and dropping the envelope back in the mail.

Then, early in December I got the news. I had been selected to serve the week of January 23. Oh it sent me into a bit of a tizzy. Monday was a teacher work day. (Was that good or bad?) Wednesday was the science fair. (Was that good or... never mind.) But the more I read, the more uncertain I felt.

The way it works is that you never know until after five the night before if you will have to show up. That makes it kind of hard to plan ahead in terms of lessons. There's a big difference between what happens when I'm in the classroom and what kind of activities I leave for a sub. So far, I got my work day (yay!) and I'm not scheduled to go tomorrow.

Wednesday and Thursday are still a mystery.

Cold

Why is it that 70 degrees on the thermostat is too warm in the summer and a splurge in the winter, but still not quite warm enough?

Forget it! I'm building a fire.