Sabado Gigante

Maybe the limos should have been my first clue. After all, a line of 6 stretch humvees and a luxury mini bus is a little unusual on a quiet city street at three o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. 

On this beautiful day, we decided to park at the new aquatic center and walk the trail along the railroad tracks and the river beyond. The path took us into one of the many urban neighborhoods of our county, the one which was renamed National Landing when Amazon announced that its HQ2 would be built there. But the park, a shady 1.5 acres with a cool, multi-level water feature, some colorful Adirondack chairs, and a giant chess board, still bears its original Crystal City name. 

Word in the press is that the place, as nice as it is, will receive an upgrade like everything in that area, but today the sun, the shade, the paths, and the fountains were all the perfect location for at least 10 Quinceañera photo shoots. As we approached the park a team of three photographers and videographers recorded a white limo parking curbside. Doors opened and a young girl in a midnight blue dress with hoops and crinoline piled out with her court of 6 damas, dressed in slightly fewer frills in a lighter shade of blue, and 6 chambelanes, dressed in dark suits with powder blue waistcoats. A little girl and boy dressed like their older counter parts completed the court. Parents and grandparents climbed out of the limo next, and the entire entourage proceeded to the fountains stopping and posing as they went. 

Almost every corner of the park was occupied by a similar group, some in pink, some in yellow, some also in blue, all attended by cadres of photographers. The activity was too interesting to pass by; we found a couple of empty Adirondack chairs at the far corner of the park, and took a break to watch. After a half or so, the action showed no signs of slowing: each time a limo left, another eased into its parking space, and 20 more celebrants replaced the court that had departed. So we took our leave, and headed back to the car, enchanted by the tradition.

Yeah, Right

On the back side of Hurricane Ida, which delivered 24 hours of steamy winds and torrential rain to our area before walloping the Northeast, the prediction is nearly a week of early autumn weather, crisp and golden, with cool mornings and warm, sunny afternoons. Rather than complain of whiplash, or otherwise rue the days as they pass, I prefer to take each as it comes and find the pleasure in it. 

But secretly? I still have my favorites.

One Tech, Two Tech, Old Tech, New Tech

A few years ago, when a student needed to call his parent, I invited him to use the phone on my desk. "Dial 9" I casually told him as I handed over the receiver, and then stepped away to help another student. 

A few minutes later I looked over and saw him helplessly standing there.

"How does this work?" he asked me. 

I showed him how to hold it to his ear and then pointed out the number pad and pushed the hook switch. "Do you hear a noise?" I asked. "That's the dial tone," I told him when he nodded. "Now push the 9 button, and when you hear that sound again, dial your mom's number."

I thought of that child today when one of the new sixth graders brought me her iPad. "I think I broke the screen protector," she reported sheepishly.

But the flimsy piece of plastic that covered her iPad was all in one piece and holding the countless shards of her shattered screen in place. "Lucky for you sixth graders are getting new iPads next week!" I told her. She and her classmates have had their devices since second grade, and the school upgrades them as a matter of practice when the students enter middle school. I handed her a lap top, showed her how to navigate to the activity we were working on, and then stepped away to help another student.

A few minutes later I looked over and saw her fingers hovering helplessly over the keyboard.

"How does this work?" she asked me.

You Didn't Really Have to Be There

"That's what she said!" a student blurted across the room yesterday when one of his classmates said that something was "painful".

I asked the jokester to step outside so we could discuss his brand of humor. Our conversation did not take long: I knew just what to say to move him from feigned innocence to admitting his mistake and promising to avoid such shenanigans in the future, and we were both back in the classroom before many people even noticed we were gone.

But I must admit, I sure did not miss that part of teaching middle school when we were virtual.

From the Esoteric to the Mundane

 Day 2 of this school year is in the books, and just 2 more days until a long weekend. 

That's right-- our calendar this year is a little silly. As I explained to the sixth graders today, "We have four days of school, and then five days off. Then we have three days of school and two days off. Then we have three days of school and one day off. Then we have one day of school and two days off. And then? We have five days of school!"

Their heads must have been swimming. "And don't even get me started on the block schedule!" I continued, but it was too late. "We have A, B, and C days. Yesterday was a C-A day, and today is a C-B day. Tomorrow is A and Thursday is B. When we get back next week, Wednesday is a C-A Day, Thursday is an A Day, and Friday is a B Day. There are no more C Days for 2 weeks, but the next one will be a C-B Day!"

Their eyes were glazed over.

"It's super confusing," I laughed, "but you know what is even crazier than this crazy schedule?"

They shook their heads. 

"In a couple weeks, we will all understand it completely!"

No Time for Drama

During the open house last week a student stopped me. He was an eighth grader, and one of our school "ambassadors", kids who are tapped to welcome and guide visitors during special occasions. He had a woman with him, and they were both a little turned around. "Do you know where the door to the parking lot is?" he asked.

"We don't have one anymore," I frowned.

"This lady says her husband dropped her off at Door 19, and she's supposed to meet him there right now."

The woman sighed and literally drummed her fingers on her crossed arms. "I just need to know where Door 19 is!"

The question threw me a bit, because even though it's been several years since our many outside doors were numbered for easier emergency management, I never really bothered to match the doors with their designations. 

"Isn't it in the gym?" the student said.

"I don't think so," I replied, vaguely recalling that those doors had single digit numbers. "But I do have a map of the building in my room right over here," I offered. "We could look at that."

"Just take me to the door," she said to the student, and off they went toward the gym. Back in my room, I checked the map and found that Door 19 was right down the hallway. 

A little later, I saw the 8th grader again. "Did you find the door?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said. "That lady said you were causing some drama, but I just ignored her."

"What drama?" I was confused.

"The whole map thing," he shrugged. "She just wanted to go."

"Well I guess it's a good thing she's gone, then," I said.

On Our Own

Heidi had a reunion in Pittsburgh this weekend, so Lucy, the cats, and I were solo. AND we did just fine, walking and cooking and cleaning and grooming and playing and so forth. BUT it must be said that we were all very happy when she got home this evening.