You Know You're in Middle School When...

...you hear the news that a couple of eighth grade boys ordered ghost peppers online and then brought them to school to fulfill the mutual dare to eat them. They were found writhing on the bathroom floor after puking up their breakfasts. Word has it that the nurse actually rubbed their bellies, therapeutically of course, while they waited for their parents to pick them up.

On the Radio

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am an inveterate NPR listener. These days, if I'm not in the car, I usually catch the news online. Although I generally listen to our local broadcast, the internet makes it possible to hear programming from pretty much any station in the world.

So, some afternoons I tune into Maine Public Radio and pretend that when it's time to go home I'll be heading for a little cottage on the rocky coast. Wood smoke and salt will be in the air and seafood on the menu as October's early dark gathers.

Other times I listen to Minnesota Public Radio and imagine the autumn chill of the Boundary Waters, or perhaps the traffic lights on France or Normandale on the way to my mom's house where a cold beer and a warm dinner awaits.

And sometimes it's WABE in Atlanta that's on, so I can hear the local weather and news in my sister's part of the world and for just a moment pretend that she's 10 minutes away instead of 10 hours. 

Oh, the news these days so often seems full of trouble and woe, but the world's not quite so scary when you remember who else is out there.

True Story

And then there was that turkey I saw today heading west on King Street. A hen with striking iron grey and ivory speckled plumage, she seemed resolute in her promenade up the sidewalk. I guess this would be a good time to think about leaving home if you were a turkey.

Quick Silver Lining

Mercury in retrograde it may well be, 'cause things continue to go awry here. After taking the day off to finally have the door repaired, the bell rang once and I answered to find a technician standing on the stoop to tell me that my repairman was delayed by car trouble, An hour later a second chime alerted me to another visitor; this time, the guy assigned to the job broke the bad news that because of the expected rain they were postponing until tomorrow.

The forecast is iffy, but I'll be here , fair or foul, also expecting the call from the appliance repairman with his bid on replacement parts for the ice maker and the dryer (that"s if he can find them). By then, my fragile hard drive may be backed up so that I can take my computer to the Genius Bar tomorrow evening. Maybe I can get that scheduler on the phone from the doctor's office who hasn't answered every time I've called for the last week. Oh, and there are assignments to grade, and online discussions to facilitate-- without the distraction of being at school, those chores will be way easier.

Plus, who knows what other fires I may be able to stamp out? Thanks, Mercury.

Entropy

The ice maker, the hot water heater, the dryer, and now the hard drive on our desktop computer, all have broken within the last two weeks. The handles on the lids to both the kettle grill and the slow cooker have also come undone, and it's almost to the point where I'm past overwhelmed and on to honestly curious about what could possibly be the next casualty.

No Reminder Necessary

This time of year it seems like everywhere you drive there are signs notifying you that October is fire prevention month. I appreciate the reminder, but I don't really need it. Some of my most vivid memories of elementary school are focused on just that theme.

One day, when the air was crisp and the leaves brilliant against that amazing blue sky, you would arrive at school only to be greeted with the exciting information that there would be an assembly that day. At the designated time, each student would be directed to stand, lift your chair by the stiles, and line up. In that way we would file to the multi-purpose room and set our chairs down in neat rows, transforming the cafeteria to an auditorium. 

It was always a fireman in full regalia who would start the program for us. We learned to have a plan: feel the door before opening it, stay low, know where the exits were, and stop drop and roll if necessary. Then we saw a Disney movie made to emphasize those points. I can still remember the hush of the students when they turned the lights off, still see the autumn light filtering through the high slatted windows, still imagine the familiar figure of Walt Disney introducing the film, and still hear the authoritative voice of the narrator speaking to Donald Duck over the soft clickity-clacking of the 16 mm projector. 

It all seemed so important, so glorious and exhilarating. There we were, hundreds of souls in a congregation of our own creation, assembled with a common cause-- surviving a fire. 

Who could forget that?

Murphy's Conference

After eight years, I was feeling pretty confident that all my student-led conferences would go off without complication when I headed to school this morning. My homeroom kids were well-prepared; some had come in at lunch yesterday to finish up, but despite it being the first time for them to lead such a meeting, I knew that they were ready and able. I had carefully scheduled the times as well-- knowing that the allotted 20 minutes is often a little too short, I had limited the sign-up slots to 2 per hour. I had also put my interpreter requests in early; this year in addition to a couple of Spanish translations, I needed an Arabic and a Vietnamese interpreter as well, so I gave the office plenty of lead time. I was certain nothing could possibly go wrong.

I was right...

until about 10 AM. My Vietnamese family showed up, but there was no translator. When I checked with the main office, they told me none were available. Sometimes in a pinch, the student is willing to interpret for his parents, but this time, my student flapped his arms wildly and told me he really didn't know much of the language. Back at the office, they gave me the information for a telephone translation service we subscribe to, but when I tried to call from classroom phone, the long distance area code wouldn't go through. Fortunately, I had my mobile phone, and so we set it in the center of the table and spoke loudly and slowly, that is after I explained what we were doing to the person on the other end of the line. It went surprisingly well.

Later in the day, I had not one conference, but two, stretch to an hour and 20 minutes. The first parent spoke so fast and at such length that I never got a single one of my polite let's hurry this along strategies into the conversation. The second time we quadrupled our meeting was for a student who is really struggling, and I couldn't begrudge her or her mom a single second. 

And truthfully? The same must be said for every family I met with today. Their pride, questions, and concern all reminded me that every student is somebody's child, somebody's treasure. More often than not, they just want to make sure we are doing right by their kids. I get it.

It's a sloppy job, but some days I feel pretty good at it, and lucky to do it, too.