Until Spoken To

It seems like a lot of conversations I have these days involve venting: so many people have so much to get off their chests. Like most listeners I think, my first inclination is to problem-solve complaint-by-complaint, but often it seems that such an approach results in a litany of counter complaints and reasons why my suggestions could never work. Such a conversation can quickly become frustrating for both parties, and maybe even fodder for another venting session down the road.

Recently, in fact, I was on the receiving end of a third-degree complaint: somebody complaining about somebody who complained and then refused to take their advice. I nodded sympathetically and mm hmmed at appropriate times, but was otherwise silent. "What do you think I should have done?" my friend finally asked.

I shrugged. "I've learned it's best not to give advice unless you're asked for it," I answered.

Her lit up, and she nodded vigorously. "That seems very wise!" she told me.

See what I mean?

Jackpot!

3-3-3

Three days off-- we honor Dr. King on Monday.

Three days on-- two of them will be field trips!

Three days off-- inauguration gridlock has its benefits.

Warning: Hazard Ahead

Below freezing yesterday and 70 degrees in today: this is the type of dire fluctuation in temperature that my dad used to warn us was pneumonia weather. Of course today we might be likely to chalk it up to the far more menacing hazard of climate change.

And yet, as I walked coatless to my car in the balm of this January evening, the shouts of children chased after each other through twilit yards, and the prospect of peril seemed farther away than the misty moon rising so incandescently full.

Bissell While You Work

"They are not 'your' classrooms!" an administrator once reminded a roomful of us teachers harshly. "They belong to the school system and you use them at our discretion."

My stomach wrenched at her bluntness, and a tiny spark of the burning idealism that carries most of us into teaching was extinguished forever along with any illusion of ownership I may have had over my workspace. Oh, I shook it off-- that was years ago, and whether it's technically my room or not, practically speaking it is definitely where the magic happens.

Even so, the fact is that my classroom is used for night classes and on weekends by a church group who rents the facility. In theory, these groups respect the work space, but in practice that is not always true and it is routine for me on any given morning to reset the room for my own classes, moving tables and chairs to the places where my students expect them. In addition there are times when things are missing (tissues, markers, chalk, etc.) and times when things are left behind (empty cups and bottles, papers, books, umbrellas, and even a dirty diaper once).

So I was hardly surprised when I found an unusual object leaning against my wall on Monday morning. Anyone who has ever worked in a restaurant would have recognized it immediately-- it was an electrostatic carpet sweeper-- aka a "Bissell." Having swept under many a table in my time, I was impressed by how new this particular model was. In fact, it was not A Bissell at all, but rather a product of the Fuller brush company, a genuine Stanley Sweeper.

Any irritation at this abandoned item soon turned to interest. I gave it a tentative push and was pleased with the its action as it rolled smoothly across the rug picking up even the smallest specks and crumbs in its path. The potential of possessing such a device was immediately clear to me as I imagined all the stray hole punches and pencil shavings I could dispense with quite easily. This sweeper was a keeper!

And indeed it has proved to be so-- not just for me, but for my students and colleagues as well. Paper scraps? Food crumbs? Caked on dirt from recess? No problem! The rugs in our rooms have been pristine for the last three days. The satisfaction at cleaning up such messes so easily has led to arguments over whose turn it is to clean up. In fact, I just ordered one to keep at home, and a couple of other teachers have done so as well.

They may not be our rooms, but by God, those carpets are clean!

Playing Catch Up

The students at our school are quite a diverse and international group, and as such many are very well-traveled. Why, just in the last week I have had students return from Peru and Ghana and another who informed us that he will be out next week due to a family commitment-- a Disney Cruise to the Bahamas.

I'm pretty old school about these excursions; I believe that there is much to be learned beyond the classroom, and frankly, in the grand scheme of things, sixth grade really isn't all that. Believe it or not, though, it's pretty impossible to keep up with the requirements of school when one is not present, and so I do what I can to minimize any loss of education and/or stress for students who miss a few days (or weeks) spending time with family.

Even so, it can be pretty traumatic to return to school after time away. Our traveler to Peru, a tough little guy, cried in every class on the day he came back. The guy who spent three weeks in Ghana had a different reaction. I walked over to his table as he frantically searched his notebook. "I can't seem to find the assignment you want," he told me.

"That would be because you weren't here when I gave it," I said.

He looked shocked.

"You're going to miss a few things if you're absent," I told him. "We can't wait for you!"

Friends Forever

I've been going to the same dentist practice for about 25 years, and although the office location, personnel, and technology have changed over the years, it never fails that I run into someone I know in the waiting room. Such was the case this afternoon when the cold wind swept me into the lobby after a 20 minute walk from school.

"Tracey!" I heard my name and looked to the receptionist who was not looking at me. "Is it you?"

A guy and his teenaged son were the only other patients in the waiting room, and I recognized them right away. I started my teaching career with Colin and his son was a student at our school until last year. Colin stood up and gave me a great big hug.

"You're all checked in!" the receptionist told me, and I plopped down next to my friend and loosened my scarf. It had been a long time since I'd seen him. Colin took the administrative track early on in our careers, and now he was a well-respected principal at an elementary school on the north side. I looked at him and shook my head. Despite the years with their inevitable hardships and tragedies, he still had the same gap-toothed grin of the silly trickster he was.

I flashed back to my phone ringing on a Saturday morning in the mid-90s. "Hello?" I answered.

"This is Governor George Allen calling for the teacher of the house. Is she home?"

I was confused and literally speechless until laughter broke the silence. "It's Colin!" he said. "I have a question about school."

Today we chatted amiably but aimlessly. It's hard to fill in years of gaps in five minutes in a waiting room, so we talked about school construction and his older son's college classes. All too soon they called my name. I stood and turned to Colin, but before I could say anything too mushy he spoke first.

"Give her a big shot in the gums!" he called to the hygienist.

I giggled and followed her to the back.

"Do you know that guy?" she asked with concern.

"Yep!" I told her.

Cold Hearted

From a distance they looked like black pepper scattered across the blue sky.

"Look at all those birds," I said to Heidi. "I wonder what they are. Crows?" I frowned.

The number was right, nearly a hundred, but as we grew closer the way they soared did not seem crow-like in the least.

"Oh my lord!" I cried, sighting the neat white stars of their wing tips. "They're vultures!"

And indeed, it was a fine kettle of Turkey Vultures with nothing dead in sight. Seems they were simply enjoying the frigid updraft.