Home Alone

"Whoa!" Heidi said as I made the right turn to go home. "I thought we were going straight to the movies!"

"But we have some groceries that should be refrigerated," I told her.

She shook her head. "Lucy is not going to like that!" she replied.

"We have enough time to take her out for a quick little walk," I said, but she was unconvinced. Still, we had our tickets and we had our groceries, so we followed my plan.

As we shut the door behind us to go to the movie, a muffled howl rose up. "Is that our dog?" Heidi asked wide-eyed. Another soulful bay confirmed that it was. "That hurts my heart," she said as we dashed to the car.

On the way to the theater Heidi was pensive. "I hope she doesn't do anything destructive," she said more to herself than me.

After the movie we opened the door, unsure of what would await us. A small mangled heap of cardboard and plastic was on the living room floor, but everything else seemed intact. "What is it?" I asked.

"The toothbrush I just bought," Heidi answered.

Hm. I guess Lucy showed us!

Not Always Right

It was a long wait for some popcorn. The line snaked beyond the post-and-ropes they had set up and into the food court, but this was, after all, the premiere Chicago popcorn place. On the Sunday of a three day weekend, we were willing to wait for our own little bag of the cheese and caramel mix,along with a small canister for the hostess of the open house we were attending later in the afternoon.

Plus? Did I mention the free samples? Maybe that's why the line was so long. At any rate, we chatted amiably as we moved forward at an efficient pace. At last the young woman behind the counter spoke her magic words to the customer directly in front of us, a well-dressed woman who looked perhaps to be in her sixties. "What can I get you?" she said, stepping from the kitchen door where she had interrupted her service a few moments before to have an animated conversation with whoever was in there.

The order was slightly complicated, involving a substitution of one caramel corn for another, but it was handled with alacrity, until as the second scoop of popcorn cascaded into the jumbo bag, the customer pointed haughtily at a couple of stray pieces on top of the glass counter and said, "That does not look good at all."

The employee stopped, and tilted her head. "Excuse me?" she replied.

"That looks dirty," the woman elaborated.

"Well," the other woman shrugged with a smile, "we are really busy!" She pointed her chin at the line behind us.

"Not too busy for you to socialize in the kitchen," the other woman said archly.

Behind the counter, the young woman's eyes narrowed, her smile frozen. She flicked the popcorn into the trash. "We can call my manager if you'd like," she said steadily, and when there was no reply, she returned to filling the bag.

"Have you ever been to the stores in Chicago?" her customer asked in a conversational tone.

The employee's shoulders relaxed, and her smile warmed again. "No, I haven't had the pleasure," she answered, holding the full bag out.

"Well," the other woman spat, "they don't play there. The service is," she paused, "impeccable." She took the bag of popcorn, and moved self-righteously to the cashier.

From behind us, a concerned voice piped up. "Are you almost out of cheese corn?" he asked with a little desperation, because the bin was pretty darn low.

"Don't worry," said the employee, "that's what I was talking to the kitchen about. It will be out here shortly."

Many Happy Returns

"It seems like we just had cake last week!" Heidi remarked as we finished our shopping for Josh's birthday celebration last Friday.

"We did!" I reminded her. "For Elaine's birthday."

And tonight, for the third week in a row? Another birthday party! It's Emily's family dinner, and yes! There will be cake!

Involuntary

"...and so we want every sixth grader to volunteer in at least two different focus areas this year," our IB Coordinator was addressing a group of students in our school lobby who were about to attend a service fair and meet representatives of several local organizations to find out how they might get involved.

"Oh, fuck no!" said the girl to my right under her breath.

I tilted my head and furrowed my brow in disbelief. We made eye contact; she frowned. "Did you just cuss?" I asked her.

She shrugged angrily.

"Let's step into the office," I suggested firmly.

I gestured to the row of seats lining the wall in waiting-room formation. She plopped down defensively. "My sister said this school was going to try to make me do something like this!" she started angrily. "And she told me that I don't need to do nothing but focus on my grades!"

"What do your parents say?" I asked.

"What parents?" she answered.

I realized I was looming over her and sat down in the next seat. "How old is your sister?" I asked.

"The one that said that? 23," she told me.

"Who else lives in your house with you?" I asked.

"My grandfather," she said, "but he's in our country, and my other 2 sisters."

"How old are they?" I asked.

"32 and 29. My oldest sister has two kids," she explained.

"Well," I said, "the service requirement here is because we think it's important for everyone to think about how they can help."

"Our family already gives away clothes to our church," she told me.

"Why do you do that?" I asked.

She frowned again. "Because there are people who need them!" she answered in exasperation.

"That's right," I said, "and you want to help. That counts for part of your service here."

"How can giving away some old clothes change the world?" she challenged me.

"It makes a difference when people see a need and try to do something about it," I said, "that's exactly how the world changes. The people who are here for the fair know that. All we want you guys to do is to see if there is anything you are interested in helping with. You don't have to do anything, but there are some cool groups here. Don't you want to check them out?"

She nodded. I could see she was interested. "There's no cussing, though," I told her.

"Fine," she shrugged and stood up. 

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!"