Pleasure Without Purpose

Are you even fun?

The headline on the NYTimes website caught my attention immediately. A quick click took me to a quiz and an accompanying article. I took the quiz first, because, well, it seemed like more fun.

It billed itself as "mostly unscientific" and it was. The first question was, Have you ever ordered a party sub? and the subsequent questions were equally rando. It was always obvious which of the two answers was the more "fun" one, but I found myself strangely compelled to reply honestly, even the one that asked if I ever found myself just hanging with the girls, aka, my plants. 

"Yes! They love me!" I clicked without hesitation.

Twenty questions later, I got my results:

CONGRATULATIONS! YOUR FUN VIBE IS: Low-key!*  

 

Gardening, reading a good book or quietly people watching is your kind of fun. You’ve been known to say, “We don't need to drink to have a good time.” 

*Fun categories extremely unscientific but derived from consultation with actual researchers

I'd have to say that unscientific though it might be?  It sure pegged me.

Hello, Saturday

When you are off for an extended period of time, like, say the whole summer, Saturday is no longer a special day of the week. In fact, Saturday becomes a day to stay home and avoid the crowds in the stores, theaters, museums, pools, gardens, and so forth. All those people cramming their leisure and errands into 12 hours or so can really jam your vibe. 

That was definitely me a couple of weeks ago, but with school starting Monday, I find that my attitude has completely reverted to that workaday spirit. This morning I got up and made waffles, dropped Heidi at a friend's for brunch, filled the car with gas, got my hair cut, went to Home Depot for garden supplies and toilet repair parts, shopped at the Mediterranean grocer for some specialty pantry items, went by Total Wine to restock my beer, took the dog for a walk, fixed the toilet, went grocery shopping, babysat our neighbor's six-month old little girl, and made chicken soup. 

That's almost more than I did all summer, when the day's accomplishments usually consisted of doing the wordle and crossword puzzle. (Which, for the record? I also did today.)

A Shift and a Shed

One of my priorities when I started teaching was to build a big classroom library full of books that my students would want to read. To that end, I have spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars acquiring books that I knew kids liked, and over the last 29 years I have assembled a library that fills six bookcases. 

That's a lot books, and it is despite the fact that I have lost many to careless and unscrupulous borrowers. In fact, any used book sale within 5 miles usually has one or more volumes stamped with my name and a plea to return it. And just this week, several teachers cleaning out new rooms have brought me books that the previous occupants had on their shelves, despite the clear labeling.

But when, upon returning to my classroom after summer break, I unwrapped my neatly papered cases, I found a note that I had left myself back in June. Go through these bookshelves! it advised me, as well as to Have a good SY 2022-23! At my age, I have come to embrace writing myself reminders, especially prompts for the middling future. To be completely honest, I had no recollection of writing that note; I just recognized my own handwriting and knew that it was good advice.

Even so, my bookcases remained a bit of a jumbled mess for the entire first week that I was back to school. It was only today, with many other must-do tasks looming, that I began work on the shelves, slowly at first. As I sorted through the volumes one at a time, I noticed a few things. First, there were the multiple copies of books that were wildly popular in their day, but then flamed out, supernova-style. There were also books that were ragged and repaired with packing tape and sharpie. And finally, there were many books that were obsolete, their plots either too dated to ever become classics or too offensive by contemporary standards for me to conscionably to keep.

So I grabbed an empty box, took a deep breath, and for the first time in 29 years started paring my library instead of adding to it. As I worked, depositing box after box of discarded paperbacks outside my door, colleagues came by to express their alarm and concern. "Are you actually throwing books away?" asked one, and when she put it like that, my stomach did a little twist.

I read years ago about a trick to clean out your closet. The advice was to turn all your hangers so that the hooks are facing inward. Whenever you wear something, replace it and its hanger the usual way. After a certain amount of time, months, a year, whatever, you will be able to see what you have worn, and what you have never touched. If you haven't worn it in that time, then you should get rid of it.

For me, the problem with that method is the worry that I might really need or want that particular garment sometime, and then I would regret letting it go. The same was true for certain books today. I knew they hadn't been read in many years, but I had to decide if they would ever be in demand or appreciated again. 

A movie novelization of Little Women published in 1994 really drove the dilemma home for me. There was Winona Rider, as the character of Jo March, right on the cover. I got Little Women for Christmas the year I was in sixth grade, and I absolutely loved it. Plus, kids today might appreciate reading a book with Joyce Byers from Stranger Things, right? 

No! 

It wasn't even the actual novel.

I tossed it, but the struggle? Was real.

Ready, Set, Go

Today was our annual open house for students and their families. Always held on the Thursday before school starts, the event is usually very well attended by sixth graders, who are new to the school. In recent years, we have opened it up to all students, which especially made a lot sense last year, when many 7th and 8th grade students had either been away from the building since March of 2020, or never even been here at all.

For me, this was my 30th open house; 29 in person and one virtually. The format has varied over the years. For a very long time, we held ours in the evening to accommodate working families, but that changed about 10 years ago. Since then, the hours have shifted from late afternoon, to midday, to morning, which it was today. 

At nine a.m. all homeroom teachers poured out the building holding signs with their names aloft. After that, it was on the kids and their folks to match the name with the one they got on their welcome letter. Over the next 15 minutes or so, 11 of the 16 students assigned to my advisory found their way over, and we headed into the building while their parents attended an orientation in the theater.

I must confess that I am always nervous to meet the new students. Despite years of experience to the contrary, I dread the possibility of some unpleasantness. It's almost like that dream where you realize you have a test that you're not ready for, but in reverse. Every year I realize again that I'm totally ready.

After a fun 45 minute get-to-know-you session, it was time to say good-bye until Monday. "Enjoy your last few days of summer!" I said. "You're kind of lucky, you know. My summer ended last week."

"It did?" asked someone in alarm.

"Yes," I nodded, "teachers have been working since last Thursday." Then I shrugged. "But it all kind of seems worth it, now that you guys are here!"

Wistful Wisdom

Earlier this summer I was brought to tears listening to the recording of Joni Mitchell singing at the Newport Jazz Festival. It had been nearly 20 years since her last public performance, during which time she suffered and recovered from a devastating brain aneurism, and it had been over 50 years since Mitchell, now 78, had performed at the festival which had played a big hand in boosting her career. Knowing all that made her rendition of "Both Sides Now" so poignant, that I cried as I listened.

In the same set, she sang another of her classic hits, "The Circle Game", which is also a meditation on time and life. I thought of that song today when the text book rep was giving us an overview of some of the features of the newly adopted program. "Here you can see the cards for each of the units," she pointed. "We call this the carousel."

I nodded and clicked obediently, aware that my preference for the materials and methods I would use to teach my students the mandated content was irrelevant. The units that I and my colleagues had so carefully crafted were destined to be replaced by this bland, bullet-proof resource designed to teach to the test and avoid offending anyone. So I made a note to set aside some time to properly mourn, and then I kept on clicking.

And the seasons, they go round and round 

And the painted ponies go up and down 

We're captive on the carousel of time 

We can't return, we can only look 

Behind, from where we came 

And go round and round and round, 

in the circle game

 

Every Little Thing

In case you were wondering, that was me and my CLT today, three little teachers on a quest to acquire inexpensive composition books for their students, taking Staples by storm. 

The price was right-- 50 cents, but the limit of 30 was problematic. We needed 150! Fortunately, the cashier was cooperative when he learned we were teachers,  ringing one notebook @ 30 copies for five separate transactions.  

"Are there really 150 there?" he asked halfway through.

"Well, technically it's only 149, because that one." I pointed to the one on the belt.

"I have to look like I counted," he said with a bit of concern, "for the camera. I don't want any trouble."

He came out from his station and ran his finger up and down the stacks in our cart, moving his lips. Then he gave a curt nod and returned to the register. A few minutes later we were rolling out the door and loading up the back of the station wagon. Mission accomplished.

May this field trip be a harbinger of the year to come-- where tasks are met together, obstacles easily overcome, and appearances maintained for any who care to review the tape.

Prana

My yoga teacher advises us frequently to be mindful of our prana. It's not just your breath, she reminds us, it's anything you take in to your body. She's right of course. Watching what you eat and drink can have an obvious effect on health and well-being, but the other things we consume? Their impact may not be quite so pronounced.

Take media, for example. Half a century ago society was concerned that the boob tube was making our children into catatonic idiots. These days our focus is, rightfully, on social media and disinformation. And anyone who has had a nightmare after seeing a scary movie knows the potential disruption such fabrications can cause. It is wise to be conscious of what you consume.

I understood this concept even before I started practicing yoga. In 2017, I stopped setting my alarm to news radio. Where for 30 years before I started my day with a couple of hours of current events, I opted for silence, choosing to curate my news consumption a bit more closely by reading online papers and listening to features on demand. I just couldn't take the coverage of the present political state of affairs.

That's why I should have known better than to listen to an entire podcast about the Jonestown Massacre. Although considering the dangers of a charismatic leader is not a bad idea, hearing the details of the situation that led to the deaths of over 900 people was not a good idea, especially since I wrapped it up right before I couldn't go to sleep.

And when I did doze off, visions of restrictive communities danced in my head all night long, leaving me groggy and unrested this morning. And when I set my intention for the day? You can bet it was to clear my mind.