Delayed Reaction

I was working in my classroom a little before 4 this afternoon when the sky outside my window turned as dark as night, and a fierce wind bent trees and spun loose construction material in circles around the abandoned equipment. A visceral sense of foreboding had me considering whether my desk might be shelter enough should the storm intensify.

When the rain started, the room seemed to shrink, and the view was like the one through the windshield in a carwash. Construction workers huddled in the shell they had built, and waterfalls cascaded from the corners of the unfinished roof across the way. Just then, a strident alarm sounded from my phone- a tornado warning. Circular motion had been detected within the storm a few miles to the east.

In the west, though, the sky was beginning to lighten, and there was a noticeable decrease in the rain fall. The worst of the weather had clearly passed, at least for the time being. Any staff and students in the building must seek shelter at ground level. As the administration cleared the area, I packed up my things, and headed into the lightening afternoon.

The Throne

When you have over a thousand people involved in a mass standardized testing situation, there are going to be some lines for the bathrooms.

"Do you need a break?" the hall monitor whispered to me as she ushered the 15th sixth grader who had left the room to pee back in. It was 10 AM, and to be honest? I rarely hit the head before 11, which is my lunch time, but the moment she offered my bladder told me that yes, indeed, a break would be much appreciated.

I made my way to the staff lavs in the front office, passing 4 lines of several students each waiting silently for their turn in the restrooms. Even so, I was a bit dismayed when I found both of the adult bathroom doors closed and locked. Did I grimace? Did I sigh? Whatever it was, the office staff engaged me in sympathetic conversation as I waited. So much so, that a voice soon floated from the principal's office. "Ms. S! You can come in here and use my restroom!"

I froze. In the nearly 26 years I have worked in that building, rumors of the principal having his or her own private bathroom have floated through the halls like flying unicorns.

"Ms. S?" she repeated. "You better get in here!"

I entered the office where I had been many times before, but to be honest, I had no idea where the bathroom could even be. The principal directed me down a short hallway to my right, where a standard wooden door stood ajar. Flipping the light switch, I entered a smaller, less worn version of the restrooms I was used to. It had the same open commode, brown floor tile, cinder block walls, industrial porcelain sink, and steel paper towel and soap dispensers, but it also had some framed art work, a narrow cabinet with colorful, neatly-folded hand towels, and scented hand soap.

A clothes hook over the door made it impossible to close it all the way, and so rather than rearrange things, I tinkled quietly, cringed at the mighty flush of the 40-year-old toilet, and quickly washed my hands (with the standard soap).

On my way out, I thanked the principal again and laughed. "Now I can cross that off my bucket list!" I told her.

Flexible and Rigid

"Some people don't do well with lots of change to their routine," I told my homeroom this morning as I went over the testing schedule for the next few weeks. "I know, because I'm one of them."

They nodded sympathetically. "You look cranky already!" one of them said, but I knew he meant well."

Only To Be Expected

The room was small, and the odor was strong. The laughter was loud.

"You don't have to be so mean!" complained the gassy kid to his overly amused classmates.

"Neither do you!" Heidi pointed out. "It is expected behavior to excuse yourself if you feel like you have to pass gas."

"I'm sorry," apologized one of the other students insincerely, "but I will laugh whenever someone farts."

Heidi opened the door to let in a little air and eyed the four 8th grade boys crossly. "You would never know that this was a social skills class!" she said.

New Old-fashioned Way

Beyond pulling all the weeds? I really had no plans for the garden this weekend. With a little, okay a lot of! help from Treat and Heidi, I figured we would clear it out and plant it as usual next weekend with several rows made up of a variety of tomatoes, peppers, okra, and eggplant.

But yesterday afternoon I opened an email from a seed company and clicked on a video link for "three sisters" planting. Sure, I had heard of the Indian approach to growing corn, beans, and squash, but I had never considered it before. 5 minutes later? I was sold!

And so the blazing 2pm sun of the first 90 degree day this year found the three of us constructing a mound in the middle of the cleared-out garden. There, in the center, we planted the "peaches and cream" corn seedlings that I hurried out to get yesterday. Around them, a circle of cowpeas, that will add nitrogen to the soil, and use the corn stalks to support them as they grow. Next weekend, a ring of squash will complete the arrangement, which was inspired by the Wampanoag tradition. The squash will use the nitrogen and shade the soil they all are growing in, keeping it moist.

We may add a fourth or fifth sister to the inner circle-- our sources say that sunflowers and amaranth distract the birds from the corn, but the rest of the garden will be planted concentrically, in circles circling the mound. Those tomatoes, peppers, okra, and eggplant will be growing in a totally new configuration, and I for one?

Am excited!

Double Trouble

We went out with some friends from the neighborhood the other night. It makes us giggle when Tracey and Tracie, Heidi and Heidi, and Lauren and Lauren get together. The six of us checked out the rooftop bar at a new restaurant in our neighborhood. There, T-squared took on Heidi and Lauren in cornhole, while the other Heidi and Lauren grabbed a picnic table and ordered some appetizers and beers. We had the attention of many of our fellow patrons, which is something I usually avoid, but not then. Maybe because I was with my posse!

Your Reservation is Ready

You know you have a tough group when you hear the following conversation in the main office on May 17:

"I think the sixth graders are checking out already," an administrator sighed to a teacher.

The teacher laughed shortly. "I wasn't aware they ever checked in."