Where Have You Gone

...my little girl, little girl?

Today Lucy got her first real clip at the groomers. All her sun-bleached golden locks were left behind on the floor of the pup salon. Her adult coat is a soft and gorgeous dark red, and she looks great, but I miss the shaggy little puppy we dropped off this morning.

Reaching the Low Bar

I woke at 2 am to the dog staring at me. She's had some on and off digestive issues over the last week or so, and I thought it best to get up and take her outside. I had to pee, myself, though, and so I padded in the dark to the bathroom and straight into a cold puddle of diarrhea.

It oozed fouly through my toes as I hurried to complete my business and stuff both feet into the sink and under some warm running water. Then Lucy and I headed outside, where she wandered about squatting and squirting for some time.

When at last we returned to the house, I still had to clean the bathroom and open a few windows to air out the place. I slipped back into bed around 2:45, at which time the puppy and the kittens, all wide awake, chose to scamper loudly through the room.

Rest was not easy and I was merely dozing when the alarm snapped my eyes open at 5. The good news? It didn't seem that the day could possibly get any worse, and it didn't!

Frustrating and Innovating

I feel fortunate that teachers in our system get a relatively generous annual budget to order supplies. Over the years I have been able to acquire almost everything I need for a well-equipped classroom. Oh, don't get me wrong, I supplement quite a bit out of pocket, mostly books and specialty items, but as far as the basics are concerned? I can order what I need.

For example, each of the six tables in my room is supplied with a basket of scissors, glue, colored pencils, markers, post-it notes, a pencil sharpener, a stapler, and a tape dispenser. It is this latter item, there to allow students to affix printed resources into their writing notebooks, that most delights and distracts the sixth graders at the beginning of the year.

On any given day, there is tape on their foreheads, tape on their cheeks, tape on their mouths, and tape on their fingers. They tape the markers and glue sticks closed, make tape balls and stick them to the bottom of the table, and wrap the stapler in tape. Please don't waste our tape, is my constant refrain, because I know that each roll costs over two bucks.

Today, though, the tape mania reached a new pinnacle. "Look Ms. S!" a student waved, "I hurt myself!" He flipped his wrist over to show me what looked like a smear of blood oozing from a staple embedded in his flesh.

It was a pretty convincing example of special effects make-up done completely with a single staple, marker, and of course, scotch tape. His work was actually so impressive, I couldn't even be mad. "Wow!" I told him, "you are ready for Halloween!"

He grinned in appreciation.

"Now quit wasting our tape!"

Won't Back Down

Mondays can be tough, and waking up to the news of another mass shooting did not make this day any easier. At 5 am the death toll was an awful 20, but when I looked again at lunch, it had climbed to more than 50. Nothing about the Vegas incident makes any sense to me; it seems to lacks motive, ideological or otherwise. What's to be done in times like this when a single man can kill and injure almost 600 people in less than half an hour?

When the fire alarm went off this afternoon at 1:45, we assumed it was a required drill until the administrator in our meeting said, "Damn! Someone must have pulled it," before dashing from the room. With the school under construction we lingered outside in this glorious October day wondering silently where the fire engines would go since they must respond to any unplanned alarms.

How hard it was to keep from scanning areas of height or cover, or speculating about the possibility of someone who wished us harm drawing us out into the light.

And just a few minutes ago, when I woke up my computer to write this post, there were some reports that Tom Petty has died or is near death. Hoping it was fake news in the same category as Morgan Freeman and David Hasselhof, some quick research verifies that he is quite gravely ill.

Something I've always loved about Petty is his writing: his lyrics are clever and wise, witty and inspirational, and fun. Just the remedy for a day like today.

But What Do I Know?

Heidi and Lucy went to their first obedience class today and both came home ebullient. "They gave tickets to people and dogs who were doing well," Heidi told me. "Whoever has the most at the end of the course gets fifty percent off their next class," she continued. "The most you can get in one session is ten, and guess how many we got?" she asked.

I knew it was ten without her telling me, and I was proud of my girls, but the teacher in me paused. What is the objective of fostering such competition? I wondered. It was clearly motivating to Heidi, but she has both experience and aptitude in the area of dog training. How do those who are less successful feel to be thrown into an unexpected contest? Although it appears that they have nothing to lose, if they feel unable to win, the structure runs the risk of being demotivating.

Fortunately for me, I live with the winners. 

Lucky Day Break

The first thing we do in the morning is take the puppy out to pee. On weekends, it's usually my chore, because I'm the first one up. So it was this morning at around seven that I pulled on a pair of sweats, and a bit bleary-eyed stumbled out with the dog.

Lucy was very perky-- even more so than usual, and the reason soon became clear. One of her best buddies, Cooper, was right around the corner. The two of them chased each other up and down the giant grassy hill in the back of our complex for at least 15 minutes, before I leashed her back up and she trotted happily home.

Do I wish I had my coffee first?

Sure.

But when you have a seven-month old puppy in the family, even unplanned play dates take precedence over almost anything else.

Way Back When

My sixth grade team is called the Dolphins, and so as we tidied up our area yesterday afternoon in preparation for B2SN, one of my colleagues broke into song. "They call him Flipper, Flipper, Flipper..."

"...faster than lightning," I joined in.

We both stopped dead. "Do you know the rest?" she asked.

"No," I shrugged. "It was a little before my time. I have a vague memory of black and white Lloyd Bridges in swim trunks."

"I used to watch it," she said, "but I never really knew the song. I only know the beginning because my fiance sings it every time I mention our team."

We laughed and continued stapling pictures of dolphins onto the bulletin board in the hall.

Today the same colleague came into my room and picked up a game one of my homeroom students had accidentally left out. "Perfection!"

"I know," I answered."It's an oldie but a goodie."

She nodded her head approvingly.

"Wait!" I teased her. "Don't tell me you used to play it while you were watching Flipper!"