Selective Amnesia

When it comes to gifts, I want to be surprised. So much so, that I intentionally wipe my mind clear of any request or suggestion I may have made related to the holidays, and I refuse to even guess what this package or that might hold. (Of course there are exceptions-- I'm talking to you, record albums and books, but even then, one can never be sure of the title until the paper has been gleefully torn off.)

My policy even extends to our Christmas decorations-- I am delighted every time I open the box and start pulling them out. Each one is a perfect, oxymoronic, familiar surprise.

And this year, I also found a little note when I opened the merry red and green container.

Dear Heidi and Tracey,

it read in my handwriting,

Merry Christmas! Remember to pull out all the ornament layers this year before you start.

I have no recollection of writing it, but it was excellent advice! (And Merry Christmas to you, too, Tracey of 2016! I know your holiday was very happy.)

Right Here, That's Where

What was I thinking when I placed 10 of the wildest, non-readingest boys in my morning book club?

That I could tame them with the magic trick of staring into all their eyes without blinking once (and donuts!) and that maybe we would find a wild rumpus of a book to celebrate together?

It looks like I'll be sailing in and out of weeks to find out.

And I may need a wolf suit.

Birthday Surprise

"Can we bring our own birthday treats?" a student in my homeroom asked the other day. Her birthday was coming up, and it is my practice to bring donuts or some other sweet to celebrate.

"Sure, if you'd rather," I shrugged. "It's your birthday!"

I smiled and she did too.

To be honest, it was one thing off my plate, but I was curious when the big day rolled around. I announced the celebration with the same fan fare as always, and we all sang and wished her a hearty happy birthday.

"Can I help you serve?" I asked as she pulled a rather small bag out from under the desk.

"Oh no," she said, "I can do it," producing a stack of napkins, a ceramic soup spoon, and a plastic container of...

pomegranate seeds!

It was a brand new experience for most of the kids, and as they chewed the tart little morsels their facial expression were mixed, but they are a gracious group, and I like that about them.

Connoisseurs

I heard a story on NPR recently about how Paris is putting sparkling water fountains in parks all over the city. The objective is to eliminate plastic bottle waste, and indeed all of the Parisians interviewed for the piece were quite enthusiastic, many filling their containers to enjoy later at home. The high quality of water in Paris was definitely a subtext; one woman spoke about rotating the sparkling water she drinks weekly to optimize her mineral consumption, and how she was happy to include the new free bubbly in her regime.

"She's like Lucy!" Heidi noted when I recounted the report to her. "Lucy loves her upstairs water, her downstairs water, her kitten water bowl water, and now her Christmas Tree water."

It must be the minerals.

Counter Surfer

It gave me a little pause this afternoon when I found a glob of cinnamon roll on the floor. Did I drop that? I wondered. until I noticed that five were missing from the tray, and it became clear that our little puppy had obviously become a stealthy thief.

Oh, she paid for her transgression, moaning and sighing her way through the afternoon, but after a little bout of loose stool, she was more ravenous than ever for her dinner. Too bad! we thought as we cut her regular portion by half, a little moderation will be good for you.

Later on, when both the raw hamburgers on the counter were gone, we reconsidered.

Hooray!

You bought us a whole tree????? asked the puppy and two kittens.

Merry Christmas!

The Other Side of Town

There is a lot of diversity in the student body of my school, primarily developmental, intellectual, ethnic, and economic. In general, the kids take the differences among them in stride, but they are not always aware of what divides them.

Today, for example, my classes were reading "Raymond's Run", a short story by Toni Cade Bambara about a little girl nick-named Squeaky growing up in Harlem back in the late 20th century. The task was to find notable details that revealed something essential about the characters and discuss them with a small group. Squeaky tells the reader about another girl who used to be a friend of mine when she first moved to Harlem from Baltimore and got beat up by everybody till I took up for her. 

"They live in a tough neighborhood," one student noted.

"I have a connection," added another boy. "There are some older kids in my neighborhood who always fight and threaten us."

"Mine, too," said a girl. "And the police come all the time where we live."

"My neighbor has to call the police sometimes, too," another student told us, "because of teenagers being loud and disrespectful."

The first student's eyebrows got higher and higher as he listened to his classmates. "I never knew how lucky I was to live in my neighborhood," he said. "Nothing happens there."