"I heard you speak French!" one of my students exclaimed as she entered the room this morning.
"Oui," I replied, "c'est vrai."
"Huh?" she wrinkled her nose.
"Je parle un peu français," I continued slowly.
"What?!" she asked in return.
"I know you take French," I said. "What do you know how to say?"
"Je suis present!" she recited.
"Très bien!" I applauded.
"Heh?" She shook her head and threw up her hands.
I laughed. "Let's stick to English, for a while," I said.
Maybe it's my imagination, but lately people have begun treating me like an old lady.
In addition to being offered the senior discount every time I shop on Thursday, I've noticed that the staff at our weekly COVID testing always solicitously open my plastic bag for me and poke the swab through so it's ready to go. I appreciate it, but when a young woman actually snapped the swab in advance, it confused me and I ended up ruining the kit. I apologized and she waved me off with a bit of a testy "You're fine."
And when we arrived home from the beach the other day, one of our neighbors happened to be walking by with the dog. "Oh Jeez," he said when he saw the back of our loaded station wagon, "let me help you with that."
It was a gesture I also appreciated, especially when he carried the heavy cooler and suitcases up all the stairs to our place, but when I thanked him I had to consciously not add, "We could have done that ourselves, y'know."
I am reminded of a story my mom told about 15 years ago. Early one Saturday morning there was a knock at her front door. She was still in her pajamas with no makeup, but the caller was very insistent and so she answered. Outside was a police officer who informed her that there had been some suspicious activity in the area that they wanted residents to be aware of. Just then his radio squawked, and he excused himself to take the call. "No," she heard him say, "no one's here but an elderly lady."
My mom was only in her late 60s at the time, and she laughed when she recounted the episode, in part because it seemed so ridiculous to her. But in the next few years, she began to complain more about being patronized or not taken seriously by service people, contractors, and others. It really made her mad.
Recently my brother and I were talking about bias. "Do you know there are only two categories on the Harvard bias test that I show extreme preference for?" he said. "Guess what they are."
I gave up.
"Young people and skinny people," he told me.
"At least you fit in one of those groups!" I laughed.
I was saddened by the news today of the death of Christine McVie. I had actually been thinking about her over the last week or so, her talent and songwriting, and especially her role in making Fleetwood Mac one of the great bands of the late 20th century.
McVie came to mind when the family gameplay over Thanksgiving took a bit of a nasty turn the night it was me, Heidi, and Emily against Bill and Treat. The game was Mind the Gap, which is trivia played on a Monopoly style-board, each of the four sides comprised of questions from a different generation: Boomer, Gen X, Millennial, and Gen Z. As teams make their away around the board, they must answer questions from each generation. There is also a challenge component, which can get really messy.
At any rate, when we were playing that night, Bill and Treat chose to start out on Gen Z and get those questions behind them. Their first category was music; "Name 3 of the 5 members of One Direction," I read.
"Harry Styles," started Treat, and there was some discussion as they tried to come up with two more of the guys. Finally they settled on Harry, Liam, and Zane.
"I'm going to say no to that," I told them. "The card includes their last names."
Well, there were some hard feelings about that call, and in truth I questioned whether I was being overly competitive, even after the game was over. Treat had made the point that boy bands are marketed by their first names only, but laying in bed that night I thought of other bands and their members. Would I have accepted Don, Glenn, Joe, and Randy for the Eagles? How about Stevie, Lindsay, Christine, John, and Mick for Fleetwood Mac? In the end I decided it was fair, if not exactly friendly, to insist. I also thought that performers deserve that respect: a great band is a combination of talent and chemistry.
Over the years, Fleetwood Mac has played with and without some of the key five musicians who wrote and recorded classic albums such as Fleetwood Mac, Rumours, Tusk, and Tango in the Night, but without Christine McVie's piano, vocals, and harmonies? It can never be the same again.
"Can I charge my iPad? It's only at 5%" a student asked this morning gesturing at the bright red cable by my desk.
"I'm happy to cooperate with you," I answered him, "but I'm going to need some cooperation from you, too."
"What do you mean?" he said.
"Well," I continued, "I'd like you to do your assignments and participate in our class."
"I can't promise that," he told me dismissively.
"Why should I let you use my charger then?" I asked him.
"Isn't that your job?" he replied.
"Actually, charging your iPad is your job," I said.
He shrugged.
"Give it some thought," I told him. "The charger is right there."
Turns out 5% charge is plenty when you don't plan to do much of anything.
To be honest, the World Cup has hardly been on my radar screen. Sure, I know it's the most watched sporting event in the world, and I had followed with mild interest of the controversial no beer in the stadium policy imposed by the host country, Qatar, at the last minute. I also read the darker reports of the exploitation of foreign workers in the push to get the venues built and running, which was not surprising to me, having lived in Saudi Arabia in the mid-70s and seen first-hand the poor treatment of Pakistani, Korean, Phillipino, and Yemani laborers.
But the competition itself? I had no idea of the groups, let alone the standings in the first stage when I got to school this morning. My mind was on catching up with what I had missed by being out for two days and planning for the formal observation my evaluator had scheduled for third period today.
As soon as the kids came in, though, it was clear that FIFA Fever had swept the school. Instead of sneaking onto game sites, they were checking scores and streaming matches, whispering updates like gossip.
"Can we watch soccer for our brain break?" one kid finally asked, and I had to agree it was a good idea. Plus, Switzerland and Brazil were scoreless at 63 minutes. Hopp Schwiiz!
Dear Bill,
By the time you read this, some of the work will be done. You will have made it through without ever having read whatever words of motivation I might muster, because you could.
Like always, you could.
Like always, you did.
Three cars left East Market Street at the same time headed for the same destination. One pulled over a few miles later. Another stopped at a light to make a left turn. The third whizzed by while the second was waiting.
The second car encountered an obstacle and rerouted. One of the passengers wanted to stop for water. A few miles later a convenience center appeared on the left. The driver decided to turn. Pulling in they saw the first car.
Three siblings were reunited at what turned out to be a crucial moment.
Surely, this was more than coincidence.
