Long Drive into Left Field

We are newbies when it comes to sharing season tickets to our local baseball team. For years, friends, neighbors and colleagues have exhibited their Natitude proudly, but somehow we have never been swept up in the hoopla, even when the team won the World Series a few years ago. But this year, when we were approached directly about splitting a 22 game plan, we decided to see what all the fuss was about. "They're going to be terrible," our neighbor shrugged when we agreed, "but it's still baseball!"

And after two games, we have found that she is right. It's fun to go out to the ballpark, to cheer and dance and make some noise. It's nice to sit outside and people watch, and I like try to identify the type of pitch before they put on the screen, and predict how the hitter will do based on his season stats. And it's easy to get caught up in the drama and outrage of a bad call, even if booing the guy who left for the other team is a little too much. It's not that personal for us, yet.

But... last night it took us an hour and a half to drive the 7 miles to the stadium from our house. We left plenty early and only missed the first inning, but dang! That could be a deal breaker.

With a Bang and a Snooze

This year I didn't even start packing my room until after the kids left for good yesterday at noon. Then Heidi and I stayed until almost 5, but there was very little left to do today. Even so, we rose at the usual time and carried out our morning routine one last day, arriving at school around 7:20. By 9 a.m. everything was stowed away and my bookshelves were neatly wrapped. 

After getting all my check-out signatures and dropping off some dead markers in the art room for recycling, I spent some time chatting with my colleagues about summer plans, filled out the final paper work for writing prize reimbursements, and we headed home. A little while later we walked down to Shirlington to meet our friend Mary for the traditional end-of-school lobster roll lunch celebration, and tonight we are headed downtown for a baseball game. 

But not before an indispensable power nap!

This is What We've Come To

After the kids left on their last day of school, I was cleaning and packing my room this afternoon when I found an orange post-it note clinging to the underside of a table. On it in neat letters was the full name of a student, the date of the lockdown, the current time, a description of the lunch bag where her phone was located, and the passcode to access it. 

I could only surmise that she had created it as we waited huddled in the dark and then left it there in case someone needed it to identify her and contact her family.

What a World.

Expiration Date

There is a time capsule in the lobby of our school. 

I was present when it was put in place in 2003, the 30th anniversary of our building, and scheduled to be opened thirty years later,  in 2033. Recently, some students noticed it and became curious about its history and contents. They imagine themselves returning in 10 years just to see what's in there.

"You have to stay here teaching until then!" one told me today. "It will be your 40th year! We can have reunion!"

I laughed, noncommitally, and later at the end-of-the-year staff picnic I was recounting the conversation to Heidi and my friend Mary. 

"No way I'm teaching until I'm 71!" I scoffed. "Unless I do," I hedged.

"You'll have to re-certify," Mary reminded me practically. "Our licenses are only good until 2032."

"And mine expires in 2031," Heidi said. "Sorry, Babe, I'm not teaching past then."

"Well, at least I know what's in there," I sighed.

Not Today, Sixth Graders

Late last week, two girls proposed making muffins for the class and planning a lesson based on the recipe for teacher of the day. 

"Can you make them gluten-free?" asked one of their classmates.

"I think so," answered one of them.

"No!" groaned another student. "They will taste awful!"

"Why don't you guys make two batches, one gluten free and one regular, and let us do a taste test?" I suggested.

"Yes!" said the other partner. "We can make them guess which is which!"

Today was the day they taught their lesson, starting with an informative slide show about gluten and gluten-free baking, which included both recipes for the chocolate chocolate chip muffins they had prepared for us.

I love a taste test, and I eagerly sampled the first muffin. It was delicious-- dense and moist and very fudgy. The second muffin had good flavor and a fine crumb, but it was a little dry. I re-examined the recipes. The gluten-free were baked with almond flour and coconut oil, the regular had eggs and vegetable oil. I knew the first one was the gluten-free version, and it was frankly a much better muffin.

The students asked each of us to make our guesses as they tallied our predictions on the chalkboard. I went first. "I think the muffin on the left was gluten free," I said. "It was also delicious!"

"No way!" another kid said. "That one was definitely regular." His classmates nodded.

I could tell by the tickled smiles on the bakers' faces that I was right and that they were enjoying fooling their friends. "I think they just like to disagree with you," one of them said to me, and we laughed because all year long, they were a very contrary group who never had a problem taking me on. 

Even though they had never won a debate with me, the class doubled down on this one, and all but one voted the opposite way.

When it came time for the big reveal, the class moaned in defeat. "She's a former chef!" said the student who voted with me. "And she never loses an argument!"

Maybe Tomorrow

It's been a lovely early summer here this year, but in the spirit of Murphy's Law, the first really hot and humid day coincided with our end of the year activity, with many of the activities planned for outside. The sun was unrelenting at 8:30 AM and the air so heavy and humid that there was not even a stir of a breeze in the trees, let alone on the new synthetic turf field where I was scheduled to spend my day. 

And so many of the kids were woefully unprepared, too, no water bottles, dressed in heavy, dark clothing from head to foot, wearing masks even outdoors. The whole situation kind of took the wind out of the sails for a fun day featuring kickball, capture the flag, a Survivor-style relay race, and a personalized scavenger hunt all over campus. The teacher at the doors was busy, line to the water fountain was long, and arts and crafts and inside games were a welcome relief. 

A similar activity was wildly popular in 2019, the last time we planned such an event. Back then, we were winding down the year with one of the toughest groups of kids I've ever taught, and that day was hot, too, but those kids navigated their teamwork and independence beautifully, despite all the challenges of the year.  AND our team of teachers was strong, and as needy as the kids were, they hadn't been hit with 2 years of pandemic disruption.

My reflection on today reveals so many variables, couldas, wouldas, shouldas, but I'm too tired and disappointed to unpack them all.

HBD Frannie!

The phone rang when I was driving to the store. (Wait! People of my generation: think about that! The phone rang on my way to the store, and I answered it because I had it with me. 🤯) It was a FaceTime from my brother and sister. (Again. Pause. I could see them live as I drove my car. Yes, it is very dangerous. I was careful, though.) Today is my mom's birthday, and talking to them was really the only thing I wanted to do (except get chocolate cake from the store to eat with the cauliflower tart I was making in her honor). We agreed to reconnect in 45 minutes (that call? Lasted over 3 hours!) 

Love you, Mom