Life Lessons

Today my reading class was well-entertained by reading Jack Gantos's short memoir "The Follower," (Click on the link and scroll down for the full text-- it's totally worth it.)

The writing in this tale of Gantos's youthful mishaps at the hands of the delinquent Pagoda brothers who lived next store is vivid- full of figurative language- and hilarious.

Maybe it's predictable that as I am a middle-aged lady his mom is my favorite character in the story. It's not for the reasons you might think, though.  I love her anti-nurturing. Here are her words as she warns her son away from the dangerous antics of the Pagodas:

"You are a follower, not a leader," she said bluntly. "You are putty in the wrong hands. Don't get me wrong. You're a nice kid, but you are most definitely a follower." 

That kind of sums up her character, but it's later, after Jack dislocates his shoulder and tries to hide it when she really wins my heart.

She grabbed my arm and pulled on it like it was the starter rope on a lawnmower engine. Something deep inside my shoulder went Pop!
 
"Arghhh," I sighed. The relief from the pain was heavenly.

"You are as dumb as a post," my mother said. "I'm warning you—don't play with that kid! He'll lead you to your death."

After reading today, my students debated the themes of the story and kicked around possible life lessons. "How about YOLO?" suggested one. "You only live once?"

"How about DODO?" answered one of her classmates. "Dummies only die once!"

That seems about right.

A Job Well Done

I believe there is room for expertise and even artistry in any occupation. Today at the grocery store, the young man who bagged my groceries did the finest job on that particular task that I've ever seen.

I sighed when I emptied my cart and placed the two reusable bags on the belt. I just knew there was no way everything would fit. As the cashier scanned, and I swiped my card and punched in the PIN, the bagger organized and stacked the items as they came his way. Keeping watch on the things at the back of the line, he didn't actually place anything in the bags until the order was about two-thirds rung, but when he did? It all came together like the last few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Everything fit perfectly in the two bags, and they were also balanced and square. They were waiting in my cart before I received my receipt and that Ballanchine of bagging, that Picasso of packing, was off to another line to ply his artistry there.

Unless You Know Something I Don't

The phone rang this morning, and our talking caller ID announced that it was "mary-land" calling.

"I wonder what the state of Maryland wants with us," I joked as I picked it up and answered with a cheery "Hello?"

"Hi Grandma!" the voice on the other end was equally upbeat.

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number," I told him.

There was a brief pause. "Are you sure?"

THINK Before You Speak

Middle school, middle school, oh the joys of middle school...

Today in one of my classes, one student taunted another by stating that a particular body part of his was only one centimeter long. Props to him for using the metric system, especially since his remark came along with a little thumb and forefinger gesture indicating the estimated length, but it was still inappropriate. The other student did not react well, and so both boys found themselves in a conversation with me, the counselor, and the assistant principal.

Once the discipline/consequence part of the meeting was over, the therapeutic pep talk part began. We have a great counselor who also happens to be a good friend of mine. Recently, she introduced the acronym "THINK" to the students to guide them in evaluating their comments both online and face to face. To the student who had made the disparaging remark she asked, rhetorically, if what he said was

True,
Helpful,
Inspiring,
Necessary, or
Kind.

Still a bit upset and angry, he nodded slightly but shrugged noncommittally, and so she turned to the other student.

"You don't have to take those kind of comments from anyone," she told him. "You can ask an adult for help if someone says something like that to you." She paused and looked at him; he nodded.

"Was what he said kind?" she asked, working backwards on the list.

He shook his head.

"No," she said, in agreement.

"Was it necessary? No," she continued. "Was it inspiring? No." She was on a roll. "Was it helpful? No. Was it true? No."

"How do you know?" interrupted the other kid.

It Had to Happen Sometime

I confess that I have been tired lately, even after catching up on my sleep over spring break a couple of weeks ago, but nothing could have prepared me for the exchange I had this evening with the cashier at the grocery.

I had worked until a little after five and given my nephew a lift home after he had tutored, and I would have avoided the extra stop if I could have. As it was, I shopped pretty quickly, but when I made way to the check-out line, the go-go nature of the day and the fact that I was absolutely starving must have taken a toll.

I handed over my shopper's card without being asked, consented to plastic bags with a nod, and was busy punching in my pin number when the checker interrupted me, politely. "Senior citizen discount, ma'am?"

Heat Wave

After near record lows a couple weeks ago, today we posted a bona fide record high temperature.  91^o in April? Oh my!

People who know me know I do not really care for hot weather, but I have to say that this was the most pleasant ninety-plus degrees I have ever encountered. There was very little humidity and a light breeze that just made you want to throw out your arms and spin. With the windows and sun roof wide open I didn't even break a sweat.

At school, more than the extraordinary heat, the students seemed to sense an irrevocable turn in the season. "These are the longest shorts I have," I heard a young woman complain when she was sent to the office for a dress code violation. And this morning, when asked to come up with a theme for a basket to be raffled off at a PTA fundraiser in a couple of weeks the most popular idea was School's OUT!

...and that's what we're going with.

Mail Call

Believe it or not, the entire experience of writing a letter, addressing the envelope, placing a stamp on it, and personally putting it in the mail is a novel one for most of the sixth graders I teach. As the culmination of the Gratitude Challenge, and because the weather was a gorgeous 80 degrees here, today my students and I walked to the mailbox on the far corner of campus to physically post their thank-you notes.

After overcoming the exacting task of properly placing name, street, city, state and zip code on a tiny envelope, they joyfully ran down the sidewalks and across the fields to the intersection where a vintage mailbox stands bolted to the pavement. With wonder they pulled the worn metal handle to reveal the yawning maw of that blue beast and gleefully sacrificed their offerings to the postal gods. Then they skipped back to their school, eager to continue their lessons.