Senior League

It wasn't long ago that the cry of "Kobe" as a shot went up meant that "swish" was the expectation as the basketball came down. I should know-- for a long time I have had a mini basketball hoop and a duct tape strip on the carpet about 10 feet away from it in my classroom, and I have heard that cry for years.

On most days the "Lollipop Line" is open in the three minutes between third period and the bell for lunch. Any student who feels like it can stop by, grab one of the ten or so mini-basketballs from the milk crate by the line, and take a shot to win the choice of a piece of candy from the large plastic barrel I keep behind my desk.

Oh, there are rules: hit the lights or the ceiling? Then you are out for the day. Otherwise, follow your shot, get your rebound, and hustle back in line for another chance. On any given day two or three kids out of the 15 or so who show up make the shot, but everyone has a good time, including me as I referee and cheer each student on. It is a simple way to build rapport and community in three minutes a day, as evidenced by the fact that I rarely have behavior issues with any of the regulars.

This year there is one student who always waits until the bell has rung and his classmates are gone. "Will you take a shot?" he asks me every day.

"Sure," I tell him, and I don't mind it when I miss, because it shows that I'm willing to take a chance.

Today was just such a day; the shot I took was way off.

"Kobe!" he cried when I missed.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"You're just like Kobe Bryant!" he continued, in case I didn't get the reference. "He misses all the time, too! There is one difference though... He's old!"

Try it, You'll Like It!

Last month when Josh was in the hospital, he and I passed away a few of the seemingly endless hours by making up a new card game. Based loosely on a combination of a couple sets of rules we found by googling "cards for two," it turned out to be a quick little game with a fun balance of luck and strategy.

For a few days, he and I were the only ones who had ever played it, but after a while we roped Heidi and Kate, Josh's girlfriend, into a few hands. To be honest, their response was a little lukewarm, but that didn't stop me from buying a deck of cards at the straw market on Great Stirrup Cay last Sunday.

The deck itself with its bright blue and yellow Bahamian flag and handy plastic case was well worth the five bucks I paid for it, and after a while I was even able to convince Heidi, her mom, and her brother's friend Dee to play cards with me. Three or four hands later? We all agreed! This was a good game!

"Oh, I can't wait to tell Josh!" I said. "Our game is an international success!"

What Educators Make

I knew it was something serious when I saw the email late Sunday night. There was going to be a staff meeting in the library before school the next morning. I waited until we reached Miami at around 7 am to send a text to find out what was going on. "Sad news," came the reply from my friend Mary. One of our staff members had died the night before.

I was sorry not to be at school to help the kids through it, and sorry, too, not to be there to share the loss with our school community; as it was, Heidi and I talked it through a lot yesterday, and that was helpful, but it would have been a comfort to be with everyone else.

I heard later that a steady stream of former students had passed through the building all afternoon, drawn back to share their sadness and their memories of a big personality. He was a complicated man, and not everyone liked him, but there was no denying all that he had contributed to our school in the 20 years he had been there.

"It's funny," a colleague said to me today, "most teachers retire, and so when they pass away they don't get such an outpouring."

"True," I said, "but really? This could be for any of us. It's not taking anything away from him if we realize that we should never doubt that we have made a difference."

Let's Jet

The rest of our group wanted to disembark the cruise ship before nine this morning. If past experience was any indication, it could have taken us a couple hours to make it through customs and catch a cab to the airport, anyway, and so being the team players we are? We agreed. Who knew that we would be standing at the curbside check-in at 10 am for a 2:15 pm flight?

After finding no available seats on two earlier planes, we checked our bags and set out to explore... Miami International Airport. There are three levels to the U-shaped terminal, and we saw them all. In fact there are actually art exhibits and even a garden tucked away in a few quieter corners. In addition, because it is a verrry international airport, there are many stores to browse before even passing through security.

When at last we joined that line, which moved at a ridiculously quick pace, all 60 gates of the D concourse and its many shops and restaurants lay before us, and believe me, we saw them all. 8000+ steps later, we strolled toward our gate, iced Americanos in hand, just as they called our boarding group. "This has been one hell of a boring day," I sighed to Heidi.

In my earlier years, we spent many a long day at the airport. Back then, my dad worked for TWA and travel for us was always stand by. Factor in overnight flights and long layovers, and you get a family who could sleep on airport chairs whenever necessary, and if we didn't make the flight, we were lucky if there was a news stand open to kill time.

"But it wasn't as bad as it could've been," I told her as we headed down the jetway.

It's Better in the Bahamas

By 10:39 am this morning, we were all set up in our private cabana on Great Stirrup Cay. The Caribbean Sea gleamed turquoise and a light breeze made the 75 degree sunshine perfect. Ice cold water, fresh fruit, and chips with a trio of fresh salsas were spread out on the white linen table cloth. Stefan had already been by to take our drink orders, and Heidi's dad relaxed on a deck chair. I clicked a photo of our cruise ship floating placidly in the azure water just beyond the palm trees and white sand beach and showed it to him. 

"This looks like a nice place," I joked.

"Wow!" he answered, "it sure does! Where is it?"

From Sea to Shining Sea

I made sure to be up before the sun this morning, and my efforts were rewarded with a pretty picture of  Paradise Island snaking through the Atlantic toward the rising sun. The day passed in exploration, but by 5 pm we were ready to slip the surly bonds mooring our ship, the Sky, to the concrete pier and venture forth to sea again. And so it was that I found myself on the starboard side of the promenade deck facing west and watching the sun sink right back into the very ocean it rose from this morning. Oh, there was no green flash, but my gratitude for spending such a day with those bookends of bright beauty was luminous enough. 

Answering the Call of the Sea

We find ourselves at sea for the second time in less than five months, and to be honest I'm pretty happy with the situation. Having purposely chosen the same cruise line and even the sister ship of our former liner, it's almost like returning to a place I really, really liked when I lived there for a week back in August. It could possibly be a little bit better if I had booked the identical stateroom, but we are right around the corner on the same deck and for a long weekend? That's okay.

This cruise does have a much different vibe, though. A relatively affordable, weekend trip from Miamai to the Bahamas is bound to attract a different clientele than a premium Alaskan excursion. That much was very clear when we made our way up to deck 11 Right after we boarded. It was packed with young people in bathing suits taking full advantage of the free booze. Since she was still tied up to the pier, our ship was as steady as a rock, but the puddles of mojitos and beer and the passengers stumbling through them implied otherwise, as did the chanting around the hot tub up at the open air bar: drink, drink, drink!

Still, there were several places to be found on board where we could enjoy the view as we steamed through Governor's Inlet leaving Miami Beach behind. Of course, there was the obligatory safety drill, too. I was looking forward to mustering again at Station R, but when we made our way down to the promenade deck, we found that our group had been relocated to the Stardust Theatre. Filing in and then waiting on the cushy upholstered seats was anti-climactic, and the fact that every announcement was made both in English and Spanish made the drill drag.

It did not improve things at all when a 20 something guy in his swim trunks interrupted the crew member demonstrating the safety procedures. "We just waaaaaant to parrrrrrrrty!" He bellowed. "I hope nobody minds," he continued, "but if the ship sinks, I'm not wearing my shirt. Suck it old dudes!" He stood up and pounded on his chest.

"Really?" Whispered a woman a few rows ahead. "Doesn't he know that he'll be in a lifeboat with us? Who wouldn't throw him overboard right away?"