A Snow Covered Hill

I've always loved the song Landslide for its simple truth:

Time makes you bolder.
Even children get older,
and I'm getting older, too.

But time is a little warpy when you teach the same grade for nearly 30 years. The kids stay the same age, and it kind of feels like you do, too. 

Oh, sure, the kids you know (and love) personally grow older, and there are always those former students who you run into out in the community, at least the ones you can recognize despite how much they've changed. Those experiences help adjust the rearview a little.

Even so, I'm at a stage in my personal life where the children are older, but not to the point where they have children of their own, so it's been a while since someone handed me a 3-week old baby. But yesterday? That changed when we went over to visit neighbors and meet their new daughter, Olivia. Oh, I could have held her for hours-- watching her stretch and yawn and blink, smelling that soft powder and sour milk, rocking her, and patting her soft diapered bottom. 

Yep, still miraculous.

Check Your Surroundings

I pride myself on my parallel parking prowess. In fact, one of my jokey retirement job ideas used to be to buy a Segway and roll around DC parking cars in tight spaces for a nominal 5 dollar fee. I'd have an app of course, and when my business took off, I'd leverage my infrastructure, sell my start-up, and retire from my retirement. 

That's why I didn't hesitate at all when I saw that left-hand spot on the town green in Leonardtown. I pulled right up next to the pick-up ahead, cut the wheel, lined up my right taillight with the front head light of the car behind me, and hit the gas gently, but decisively. You can't imagine the twist in my stomach when I heard the sickening scrape of metal on metal. I cussed, braked, and looked ahead to assess the situation. 

It was only then that I noticed that the tailgate of the pick-up was lowered and out of my line of vision. When I eased into the space and hopped out to assess the damage, I saw that I had gashed the top front left panel of my car, sundering it from the lower panel and caving in the wheel-well trim. 

With a carful of hungry folks ready to have lunch and a fun afternoon on their weekend at the beach, I tried to shrug it off and look at the bright side: no one was hurt, the car was drivable, the truck was undamaged. Still, every time clouds covered the late March sun, I shivered in the chill, wishing for a do-over.

Scarcity

From the outside, the grocery store looked very appealing. "Fine Food and Pharmacy" read the banner, and smaller signs touted "Local Seafood" "Butcher" "Family-owned" "Chef-inspired Menus" "Ethically-sourced coffee". Since we just needed a few things for dinner, we decided to stop instead of driving the extra miles to the big new chain grocery down the road.

When the sliding glass doors whooshed open, the produce and prepared food department were literally deserted. In the hot food and deli section, all the cases and steam tables were empty and the lights were turned off. Many of the bins and baskets were empty in produce, too, but for single bunches of shriveled parsley and yellowed broccoli crowns. There were zero lemons and limes, so we moved slowly into the store to check out the meat and seafood. Those counters, too, were closed and their cases empty. A few wrapped trays of meat and fish were in the refrigerated cases, but the selection was not wide. We found some beef tenderloin on sale and a few frozen lamb chops, though.

This scene repeated itself as we rolled our cart up and down the aisles. Perhaps 30 percent of the shelves were stocked: no bread, but they had slider rolls, no rice, but they had arborio rice, no french fries, but they had tater tots, and no milk, but they had chocolate almond milk. 

In this way, we were able to check off most of the items on our list, but as we did so we saw, maybe? Four other shoppers and not a single employee until we went to the self-check, which was the only cash-out open. 

I am not a chatty person by any means, but beyond the expected pleasantries, I just had to ask, "How come your grocery store doesn't have any food?"

"Trucks not comin'," she answered tersely and did not speak to me again until I passed her with my bag. "Have a wonderful day," she said mechanically as the exit doors slid open and we left the store, wondering what in the world was happening back there.

Compressed

We have a lot of vacationing to do in 60 hours, and so after a walk on the beach, a hearty breakfast, a run to the local seafood market and Buzzy's General Store, (not to mention a trial run of the industrial oyster-opener) the six of us piled into the Subaru, which only seats five. 

With a pillow from one of the chairs on the screened porch, Bill made himself comfortable in the way back, even grabbing a nap on the 35-minute ride to Leonardtown. There we ate a delicious lunch (after an unfortunate parking incident of which I prefer not to speak), and set out to retrace our fun shopping trip from 2018. 

We found that many of the local businesses we had enjoyed had either moved or succumbed to the COVID economy, but we also browsed a new and used book store, an art coop gallery, an artisanal chocolate shop, and a maker's market for local entrepreneurs, housed in an old warehouse. Then it was back into the station wagon and on to a tiny strip mall for groceries and booze. 

Back at home, Treat and I dumped out the 300-piece jigsaw puzzle I had purchased, confident that we could complete it before we had to pack up, and an hour later, the image of Edward Gorey's Dancing Cats was all together on the coffee table. Then it was on to dinner and other pursuits. Never a dull moment, because there aren't many moments to spare.

Hit or Miss

It's always the kitchen first for me when settling into a vacation rental. Open all the cabinets and drawers, check out the tools and provisions, unpack the cooler, find some pantry space, put the groceries away. That's how it started tonight, too, at our weekend beach house in Southern Maryland. We pulled in about 6:30, unloaded the car, and then hit the beach for a quick walk before dark. Once back in the house, I stationed myself in the kitchen ready to get organized and make dinner. 

The first thing I noticed was that the pots and pans were scattered across two cabinets and several shelves in the tall pantry. Pots and their lids were asunder; mixing bowls were here and there, and three colanders were in three separate locations. This would never do! I spent the next 20 minutes reuniting the stand mixer with its bowl and attachments, stacking stock pots and skillets on the lazy susan in the corner cabinet, and nesting a set of casserole dishes and their glass lids in a low cupboard along with some serving bowls and platters. 

At the same time, I put a pot of chicken stock on to simmer, chopped some veggies and rotisserie chicken, and cooked some pasta for the soup we would have for dinner. By the time the rest of our group arrived, it seemed like the kitchen was ship shape and ready for all the cooking that we would we do this weekend.

When the soup was ready, I pulled six bowls down from the cabinet and reached into the cutlery drawer for some spoons. There were only five, and we were a party of six! Unbelieving of this turn of events, we scoured the kitchen, turning up a couple of curious unidentifiable implements, but not another spoon. 

"Who has a stand mixer, crock pot, and this thing," I gestured at a sturdy cast aluminum device with a lever and suction cups, "but not a single teaspoon?"

"I'll eat my soup with a measuring cup and fork," volunteered my brother, and ridiculous as it sounds, that is what happened.

Accountability

 The yogi who leads my morning exercise and meditation session imparted three rules:

Always be kind

Never speak ill of others

Never speak ill of yourself

These precepts have been in the back of mind for a couple weeks, and the other day, when my homeroom kids were bickering irritably in the early morning, I stepped to my chalkboard and wrote the three of them boldly, white on black.

"These are rules I have for myself," I told them, "and I'm writing them here because I hope you will help me follow them."

I read each out loud and explained what it meant.

"Can you help me?" I asked. "Will you let me know if I'm forgetting one of them?"

They nodded. 

"Should we follow them, too?" asked someone.

"I wish you would!" I answered. "Especially when you're in here. Maybe we can remind each other."

It was only a few hours later that I saw that same student smack one of his peers on the back of the neck during the change of classes. I motioned him over to where I stood in the hallway. "Why did you do that?"

"He did it to me first," he said.

"But it's against the first rule," I pointed out. 

"I think it's going to be really hard to follow them when other people are mean," he replied thoughtfully.

"I know!" I told him. "I'm going to keep trying, though! Are you?"

He waggled his head from shoulder to shoulder in indecision. "I will," he said finally.

"I'm so glad!" I replied. "And if you figure out any tricks, make sure you tell me!"

Wacky Wednesday

I've been digging deep and scraping the bottom of the barrel to find fun and engaging bonus challenges that are also quick. Today was "Wacky Wednesday," and the challenge for those who posted their writing was to go to a linked list and pick one of the activities to do during class. 

1. Wink at the person next to you. Make sure they see you. Then give them the chin nod. 
2. Raise your hand, and when the teacher calls on you say, “I always thought broccoli was tiny little trees.”
3. Sing everything you say for 5 minutes. 
4.  Draw a picture of a monkey and hold it up to yourself. Ask someone if they see the resemblance. 
5. When storytime is over, tell the people at your table that you cried when you found out Pluto was not a planet. Explain why you were so emotional. 
6. Pretend to be a robot for at least 5 minutes. 
7. Start swatting at an imaginary fly. Ask, “Does anyone else see that thing? It’s humongous!” 
8. Have a conversation with your pencil. Pretend it is talking back to you. 
9. Finish everything you say with “Hold the pickles!” for at least 5 minutes. 
10. Raise your hand and when you are called on, say, “Yeeee Haw! Giddyup!” then gallop around your table and neigh like a horse. 
11. Be silent and act like a mime trapped in a box for 2 minutes. 
12. Talk in an English accent for at least 5 minutes. 
13. Stand up and pretend that you’re snowboarding. 
14. Whenever anyone talks to you, tip your imaginary hat and say, “Top ‘o the mornin to ya!” 
15. Ask the person next to you, “Are you okay?” at least 6 times, but not right in row. 
16. When the bell rings for dismissal, do the chicken dance.

The rules were strict-- it couldn't be while I was teaching, and they couldn't explain why or what they were doing. What followed was a hilarious day-- it's been a while since I laughed so much in school. It was especially funny at the beginning of each class when many of the students had no idea what was happening.

At first, some of the kids were hesitant about the concept, even though the challenge is always optional and voluntary. In fact a couple of students wrote about the challenge before they even got to class.

"I just read the list of wacky acts and I’m not doing any of them. I dan’t care about the prize. I don’t want to do any of those things. Ever. So I have nothing else to say."

"Today’s challenge sounds super fun. The only problem is that I feel like it would cause too many extra distractions. I think a lot of people are going to be be disrupting the class and trying to explain why they’re doing it. Anyway, despite distractions, I hope this will be fun."

I understood their reservations, but I've spent all year building classroom community, and I made sure it felt safe for anyone who wanted to take a risk and do something wacky.

I'm happy to report that student #1 had a very earnest conversation with her pencil, laughing the whole time, and student #2 really under estimated my classroom management. Everything was a little looser than usual, but nothing I couldn't put back together, and kids who hadn't written hurried to get theirs done, and their classmates who needed to move got the opportunity. 

At the end of the day, all the instruction was delivered, all the assignments were complete, and everyone walked out of the room in a pretty good mood, hold the pickles.