Just as I Expected

Today I gave my students this writing prompt:  

Write about something that didn't go the way you expected.

It was less than a minute before I heard my least favorite question as a teacher of writing. "What if this never happened to you?"

"Really?" I asked the culprit. "Everything in your life has always gone as you thought it would? Every. Single. Thing?"

He nodded optimistically, hopeful that this response might get him off the hook for the assignment.

"Well," I said, "What did you think would happen when you asked that question just now?"

His expression changed. Now he was looking a little worried. He shrugged.

I raised my eyebrows. "Is this conversation what you expected?"

"Not really," he said.

I clapped and gave him a cheery smile. "Well there you go-- instant writing topic!"

Believe it or not, he wrote about something completely different, and it was pretty darn good.

Stressed is Desserts Spelled Backwards

Last Friday, in an attempt to build morale at our school, the administration offered a nice assortment of desserts at the end of our required professional development meeting. It was a kind gesture made in good faith, but I'm not sure if it made a difference to very many. Platitudes don't really pacify us; they just seem patronizing.

Looking at the table loaded with sweets, one of my colleagues shrugged. "Just another thing to put on my plate," she said.

Rust Never Sleeps

We walked past a colleague's home tonight as we strolled the neighborhood admiring all the holiday lights. Rumor has it he's retiring in February... not the usual date for a teacher, right?

"Six years ago we were wishing for him to go out," Heidi remarked, "but now? It seems a little sad."

I nodded. She had a good point. The guy was famous for his cantankerous attitude. He had a reputation for unceremoniously blasting anyone-- coworker, administrator, parent, student-- anywhere, if he believed they were in the wrong. His irascible voice has boomed through the hallways of our school for over 18 years, and teaching was his second career! It seemed like anyone who had ever a run in with him just wished he would retire already.

I shrugged. "He's really toned it down a lot recently," I pointed out.

As we walked on in our silence, I considered his. "I guess that's what happens when you're really done," I said. "You stop fighting. Being burnt out is not being upset or angry at the direction things are going. Burnt out? That's when you don't care."

'Tis the Season

The tree is up and the branches are falling; I got my Christmas mug and pajamas down from the attic, and the wreathe is on the door.

Joy!

Assignment

Standardization v. Innovation?

Discuss.

I'm Number One!

And speaking of ghosts...

Do you know what khaghouls are?

Google it, baby!

Spooky

"What are you doing here so late?" a colleague poked her head in the door and asked.

I looked at the clock. It was 5:15. "I'm always here at this time," I told her.

We laughed a little ruefully, and she shrugged. Although we have worked together for 15 years or more very, closely at times, her job is Latino community outreach, and so her hours are not the same as mine-- early morning conferences, evening parenting classes, truth be told, we're actually a tag team of sorts.

"I don't want to go back to my office," she confided.

I nodded, sure of where this conversation was going. It seems like everyone in our building feels overworked. Nobody wants to go back to their desk.

"The last time I was there so late I saw a ghost," she finished.

Now she had my attention.

"What happened?" I asked.

"It was after a meeting, around 9 o'clock," she said. "I went to the office and it was dark."

Her space is in the main office complex, and it's usually closed down after 4 pm.

"I didn't bother to turn on the lights," she continued. "I just unlocked my door and put my papers down on my desk, but when I looked up I saw a ghost!"

She told me she backed out of the room and headed to the main hallway where she found a custodian who asked her what was wrong. When she told her tale, the custodian was not surprised. "I always turn on all the lights and open the doors when I clean in there," she said. "It's like someone's with me."

And then the custodian told of a time when she was working in that area and felt a light tap on her shoulder. When she turned around? Nobody was there, but the papers on the bulletin board behind her were fluttering in an invisible breeze.