Big Kids Have More Fun

Earlier this afternoon while Heidi was clothes shopping, I wandered down the way to the bookstore. "See if you can find something fun for Liv," Heidi suggested. She had offered to babysit again, and she wanted a few fun things at our house. 

I did spend some time looking at the 0-12 month toys; the selection was good, but this first baby has a lot of toys, and her parents pack them up to go. I didn't see anything that was significantly different than what I knew she had. After a little bit, I moved over to browse the toys and games for older kids. There was a lot of good stuff there, and I was enjoying looking at all the options.

Heidi texted me then. Did you find anything? she wondered.

No, I replied, but we are going to have a lot of fun when she is a little bit older!

Uncaffeinated

Lucy wanted to go out first thing this morning, and since she has had bad belly, I thought it would be best to accommodate her. So the minute my feet the bottom step, I clipped on her collar and leash, grabbed a bag, and headed out into the cool and sunny morning. But once we were out there, she showed no interest in anything other than smelling the pavement of the parking lot. 

Who knows what critters roam there at night? Well, I guess Lucy has a good idea, but that is not what we were out there for, and her stubborn pulling toward invisible objectives made me irritable. It wasn't long before we ran into a neighbor with her dog, and then another, both of whom Lucy wanted to jump on before she wrestled their dogs to the ground. 

The second person was very chatty, and I found myself glazing over a bit as she ran through the surgeries, renovations, and repairs that she and her family had faced over the last couple of months. I was finally able to extricate myself from the conversation by reminding her that we would meet again tomorrow at the annual doggie dip, which is always held on the last day of the pool season in our complex. 

And then, Lucy continued to refuse to relieve herself. Instead she yanked me to still more random locations throughout the community, until I finally realized that my aggravation probably had a lot to do with the fact that I hadn't had my coffee yet, and so determined that she could damn well shit later.

Okay Millie

A colleague who is more than a couple decades younger than I stopped by my room at lunch today to touch base about a few weekend social events with one of my lunch buddies (let's call her Jan) who recently celebrated her 50th birthday. You must forgive me for eavesdropping, but I was present for the entire conversation which culminated in a description of a housewarming party for another colleague that the younger was invited to that might possibly conflict with another gathering they were both planning on attending. 

"I don't see myself staying that long," she shook her head. "There's going to be a lot of jenzies there."

She laughed dismissively, and I know I rolled my eyes up and to the right as I tried to use context to decipher that unfamiliar word. What are jenzies and why do we want to avoid them? I thought.

Then I laughed. I knew the hostess of the housewarming, recently 30 herself, had just moved in with her younger boyfriend, and his friends? Were Gen Z. And while I couldn't fully appreciate the nuance of her displeasure, I did find the fact that 30-somethings consider 20-somethings a bit annoying, a good reminder.

But I wonder what the Jenzies think?

Down at the DMV

There was a time, not that long ago, when everyone had to go to the DMV once a year. Before "Renew for 2" and the vast expansion of online services, anyone of modest means with a registered vehicle and/or a driver's license had no other option of renewing than to head to the nearest service center and get in that looooooooong line. 

But what a place for people watching! There was always a generous cross section of your town there-- teenagers taking tests and getting their permits, people picking up plates for a new car, folks moving in from other states who needed a new license, and the rest of us conducting mundane requisite renewals.

Friends, I'm here to report that that world still exists! It is much more organized now, with a check-in counter where you get the forms you need and a service number, and a lot of chairs to sit in while you wait to be called. And at 2 PM on a Thursday, it was a little more like an airport gate in between flights, but down by the old drive-in window, long since closed, there was still a lot of excitement as kids were tested and photographed. And up by me, there was still a lot of confusion, because bureaucracy is a live and well.

In the time it took me to retitle the car we first leased and then purchased, I heard a taxi driver begging for a new license, and I smelled a guy, who practically floated in a cloud of weed, get his license, and I saw a family from New Hampshire get their new Virginia licenses, too. I also heard about a former DMV employee who was issuing refunds in to incarcerated people and having them sent to her own address, and I was reminded that this was the service center where several of the hijackers on 9-11 got their licenses, too.

As she handed me my new plates, the agent reminded me that from now on, I could just renew online. My license expires in six years, though. I wonder what I'll see then?

Old Acquaintance

One of my oldest and dearest friends is flying in to visit next week. Pauly and I have known each other since the second day of 10th grade, when we sat together on one of the charter buses that ferried the whole school to a lush, green alpine valley punctuated by cows, glaciers, and Roman ruins. Not that either of us saw any of that; we were way too occupied with the examination of her braces for stray food bits, interspersed with non-stop conversation.

Of course, we were fast friends after that, mostly thanks to her: even though I am the opposite, Pauly has one of those never-met-a-stranger personalities. I confess, that to the introvert I am, she can be exhausting, but I love her, and even though it's been 46 years, and we have never once lived in the same town since we graduated, our friendship persists to this day. 

It has been a minute since we saw each other though, what with COVID, distance, and life and all. And so, when she texted last spring to see if I was interested in seeing Elton John's final tour? I was in! 

And now? Here she comes. "Do you want anything from Colorado?" she asked when she called to give me her itinerary.

"Just my best friend from high school!" I answered.

The Worst Night of the Year

In all my years of teaching, I have yet to find anyone, either teacher or parent, who enjoys Back to School Night. 

I counted my blessings and then counted them again the last couple of years when the entire event was reorganized to be first asynchronous and then virtual due to the pandemic. But we are back in person with a vengeance, (Social distancing is over, an administrator told me flatly, the other day), and so BSN is on the calendar for tonight, in its original, time-honored, conformation. 

Even as I type, I am dreading bolting my dinner, changing my clothes, returning to school, greeting parents with forced jocularity, and rushing through the same boring information five times, so I can go home late and drag my tired self back to work in the morning for another full day of corralling kids. It is a historic example of how little teacher time is valued.

At the very least? The ordeal should count as a floating half day toward our contract time. A little acknowledgement of and compensation for our inconvenience and overtime would be a step in the right direction.

Welcome to the Club

A few years ago some kids asked me to sponsor an anime club. "We'll run it," they assured me, "we just need a room and a teacher after school." Never a big fan of anime, unless you count the original Speed Racer series, I agreed anyway, assuming that it would be a relatively quiet hour I could spend working while they were watching. 

I couldn't have been more wrong! That anime club was a gathering of loud kids engaging in cosplay and other reenactments of the marginally inappropriate shows they tried to sneak by me. My role involved much more active supervision and contention than I expected, and I ended up with a splitting headache at the end of every meeting. 

Thankfully, COVID put an end to that club; by the time we were back at school in person for extracurriculars, the founders had moved on the high school, and another teacher agreed to sponsor the new anime club, which always seems much more tame whenever I happen past.

Today a couple of boys asked me if I would sponsor a new club, a Dungeons and Dragons Club. I confess that I have never played D&D, not even once, but I did grow up in the 70s, attend college in the 80s, and I have seen Stranger Things. I'm intrigued.

How bad could it be?