Everywhere We Go, People Wanna Know

 “Is it the Dolphin Team?” I heard a voice ask as the 30 of us, middle school girls and their mentors, entered a neighborhood restaurant for our end-of-the-year celebration.

“It’s Jefferson,” said the assistant principal, but if you want a Dolphin–” she gestured to me as I turned around. 

A young man of about thirty was standing by the bar. “Nam?” I said as he came forward and embraced me in a huge bear hug.

“I can’t believe you remember me!” he laughed. “It’s been at least 20 years!”

I wasn’t surprised that I remembered him, but I was kind of surprised I recognized him. It turns out he bartends and is one of the managers of the place, so he was in and out checking on our party as the girls ate cupcakes and sliders. The food was plentiful, though, and when they brought in the leftover containers, there was a rush for the buffet.

I looked up from my seat at the now nearly empty table, shaking my head, and caught Nam’s eye. “Are you sure you don’t need a drink after this?” he literally winked. “If you stay, I can hook you up!”

Energy Crisis

It was all a little too much this morning when my smallest, but definitely most energetic, class arrived in the room. Before the bell rang, they were pulling out puppets and soccer balls, and rock-paper-scissoring to determine who got the rocking chair, the wobbly stool, the bungee chair, and the swivel stool. 

And while I am way more liberal than I used to be in terms of non-traditional methods to keep students settled and focused, the ruckus that the 14 of them made in the early moments of class was way more than I could handle. 

Plus? They weren't calm or focused. So I stood and whistled and waved my arms, removing special seating and sports equipment as I made my way through the room. 

Did I stun them into silence, or was it the shock of having all their toys taken? Whatever the cause, the room was silent and the students were seated and attentive.

For about 3 minutes!

Sticking to the Plan

Today was the day when the young journalists in my class conducted their first interviews for the personal profile piece they will write. In classes where there are an odd number of students or an absence, someone has to interview me, so that happened 4 times today. 

Before they begin, I explain that an interview is more of a conversation than an interrogation and that it's essential to listen to the answers and perhaps even diverge from the planned list of questions, especially if the subject says something interesting. Despite modeling and examples, it seems as if that's a hard lesson to learn, though, especially if you are interviewing your teacher. 

That must be why I had several interactions today that went something like this:

Reporter: Where did you go to high school?
Me: Switzerland!
Reporter: How tall are you?

Or this:

Reporter: Have you traveled a lot?
Me: Well, I've been to 48 states and 20 countries.
Reporter: Do you have a nickname?

Empty Threats

"I'm going to blackmail you with this picture," a student threatened me today. 

He was only joking, but he turned his iPad around to show an image of me with my hood up and my phone out. It was taken a couple of weeks ago during a class discussion on rules; I was playfully demonstrating what our class might be like if we eliminated the regulation against hoods and phones.

"You know what?" I said. "I think you should show that picture, which you took of me without my permission and then threatened to blackmail me with, to the assistant principal right away," I looked at him over my glasses. "Should I call the office?"

"I'll just delete it," he said.

"Make sure you remove it from the recently deleted file, too," I advised.

"Got it," he nodded.

It Happened in English Class

I was working with a student when the door to my classroom burst open and a student entered the room. Without so much as a glance toward me, she marched over to another student and thrust a note in her hand, then she turned on her heel and left. It all happened so quickly, I didn't have a chance to react.

"Is that allowed?" asked a student, and his question brought me to my senses.

"No!" I answered and, looking at the student who had received the note, held out my hand.

She knew what was expected, and handed it to me without surprise or complaint. "What was that about?" I asked, and she shrugged in a you-know-her type of gesture, which was pretty accurate considering the personality of the kid who had delivered the note.

"Read it to us!" someone called out.

"No!" I answered, "That would be mean."

"Some teachers do," another student pointed out.

"I can't imagine that many do," I replied, and their silence told me that the request had been wishful thinking. I turned the note over and saw that it was addressed to someone else altogether, and I looked at the kid who had handed it to me. "Why did she give this to you?" I asked.

"Because I'm better at writing and proofreading," she told me, "and she wanted to make sure it was good before she gave it to him."

I laughed. "Good instincts, bad timing." I shook my head and set the note on my desk. "Tell her to come get it from me after school."

Seize the May

When we were kids, every neighborhood in our Levitt-designed township had a pool, right next to the elementary school. The pools opened the day after school got out for the summer, usually sometime in mid-June. My mom had a rule that it had to be at least 70 degrees to go to the pool, which made sense,  considering we were living in New Jersey where the average temperature in June could be a bit chilly. 

I thought of those days today as I walked throughout the neighborhoods around here, noting the progress each was making on readying its pool for our traditional Memorial Day opening. And I remembered the rule again when a friend remarked on how much she wished the pool was open after we had just finished some competitive pickleball playing, but I could not agree.

Oh, Mom would have let us go-- it was close to 80 today, with clear skies and low humidity-- but this spring has been so wonderful, mostly sunny, but cool, the kind of weather you can throw your windows open to, that I am in no rush to welcome summer just yet. 

Especially since we still have five weeks of school left!

Whaaaaaaaat???

Call me jaded (or old), but I can't remember the last time I saw something that truly surprised me. People, places, and situations of interest? Sure. Something unexpected? Maybe.

But this evening when I was running errands, I had a hold-the-phone!!!, what. is. that??? moment. So much so? That I whipped out my phone to take a picture.

Yes! 

That is a neon orange car.