Sweet Nothings

Another week, another round of state and local mandated universal testing at school. Since the beginning of the year our middle school students have been required to take a math inventory, a reading growth assessment and inventory, a reading standards assessment, and they have a math standards assessment scheduled for Thursday. 

Since today and Thursday's tests were all-school, we followed a modified schedule with 90 minutes of testing followed by shortened block classes. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I planned my lessons and activities, but it should have been something along the lines of, They will have been sitting silently for hours; don't try to get much done!

Even posting a picture of their favorite candy for a warm up took way longer than it should have, and the pent up energy in the room made what should have been a fun and easy conversation a little nasty and tense. In both sections I had to remind the group that I didn't ask what they thought the best candy was, I asked for their favorites. "Can there really be any debate about that?" I wondered pointedly.

And although they dutifully admitted that all of us are welcome to our opinion, there was still a lot of trash talking, especially the cookies-n-cream bar. "I hate white chocolate!" one kid groaned loudly.

"Who asked you?" I inquired in reply.

They were just being contrary. Because when I offered each a chance to speak on behalf of their favorite, not many chose to say much, besides, The picture speaks for itself.

Maybe so, but not many were listening!

Boys Do Cry

In the three weeks we've been in school, our sixth grade interdisciplinary team's student concerns conversations with the counselor have been predominantly about boys. That in itself is not unusual: boys often demonstrate frustration, anxiety, or other emotional discomfort more outwardly than girls, and so their troubles are easier to spot.

But these boys? Have been crying in class. 

Where in the past we might have seen anger, aggression, and defiance, this year we observe tantrums and tears. But interestingly enough, the parents are a little different too. On the first call home from school, one guy's mom answered, Don't tell me, it's about N's behavior.

And in an email to school, another mom wrote, I want to emphasize that crying and emotional expression is quite normal for him instead of abnormal and worrying to us. He is sensitive and emotes freely.

All righty, then.

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.