As I prepared to welcome my new students this week, I found that in addition to at least six siblings of former students, two of the new kids are the children of students from the past. We also have a couple of kids whose parents are former colleagues, and at the ELA meeting today, I reconnected with a couple of colleagues who are former students.
I'd say that's pretty good for a lady who's worked in the same room for 30 years!
It was probably a little separation anxiety that prompted Heidi to ask me to check the door bell cam today and see how Lucy was when our dog walker came around. On the recording we saw Sarah open the door and then call for Lucy.
“She wasn’t at the door?” Heidi notes. “That’s weird.”
So we checked the pet cam to see what prevented Lucy from charging to the door. There we found her sound asleep on the new doggie mat we bought for the couch. A little further viewing showed us her happy return home, tail wagging, and subsequent return to the couch.
A little while later, though, we came across some footage of Lucy and Milo standing side by side. Then he rubs against her and walks a few steps away. She gives him a deep play bow, and he returns, and then they both walk off camera together.
“What’s that all about?” I asked, but of course Heidi just shrugged, because? Who knows?
It was a day spent sitting.
Our school district scheduled 6 hours of mandatory professional development on diversity, equity, culturally responsive teaching, and Title IX in the morning and then social-emotional learning in the afternoon. In between we were served bbq and all the fixins.
As with many professional learning sessions, we were directed to try out some of the components they were hoping we would use with our students. One such activity was a restorative circle, where we stood in a loose ring in the seats of the theater in department groups and took turns answering a set of questions designed to build community.
Describe yourself in terms of weather was one.
"61 and clear," I replied when it was my turn, but now, after such a day, I would have to revise my reply: still 61, but a bit of an evening fog has rolled in.
"Long time no see," my uncle joked as Heidi, Lucy, and I piled into their apartment a little after noon. He was referring to the fact that we had seen him and my aunt just last Sunday at their grandson's Eagle Scout ceremony.
Although we live in the same sprawling metropolitan area, my aunt and uncle live on the northern outskirts, and the 39-mile trip never takes less than an hour, and often more. It is far enough that we usually plan our visits weeks in advance, and we never see each other as often as we would like.
On the drive over today, we listened to American Top 40, and Casey Kasem was playing the hits from this week in 1977. As always, I tried to recall what was happening back then, and I realized that Aunt Harriett and Larry had just been married a couple weeks before.
And then there we were, ready to learn how to play Mahjong, a game my aunt loves and plays often. Lunch was first, a light, seasonal meal of a tomato stuffed with tuna salad, served with cucumbers in vinegar, and biscuits, but then it was down to business as we took our seats at the card table my aunt had set up and ready to go.
As I settled into my folding chair I reviewed everything I knew about the game, starting with the iconic scene in The Joy Luck Club, where June, the protagonist, takes her recently deceased mother's spot at the table with three of her mother's dearest friends. "We are your aunties," one of the three players reassures June when she looks nervous. "We are very honest people!" It's a line my sister and brother and I have riffed on since we first saw the film in 1993.
And that was pretty much the extent of my knowledge, but despite our inexperience and the complexity of the game, my aunt was a good and patient teacher. Heidi and I picked up the basics pretty quickly, and it was close to 6 PM when we left.
"I'm so glad you came!" my aunt hugged us as we headed home, promising to come again soon. Out in the car, I switched on the ignition and punched the directions into the map app. It was 6:12 PM and the route took us right through Rockville, past one of my mom's old places.
News today that for her next album Dolly Parton covers "Let it Be" with Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr. "Leave it to Dolly to reunite the Beatles," wrote The New York Times.
I laughed and remembered how a few weeks ago when we were down in Atlanta, I was talking with my sister about my upcoming trip to Asheville and the fact that Pigeon Forge, TN really wasn't that much further. "It would be fun to go there," I said. "I love Dolly Parton!"
My sister nodded. "If you ask me," she replied, only half joking, "Dolly Parton should get the Nobel Peace Prize!"
I wouldn't disagree, but her husband did. "Dolly Parton?" he rolled his eyes. "No way!"
My sister wouldn't back down, though. Instead, she ticked through a list of Dolly's accomplishments. "She has funded literacy and music programs at needy schools for years," she started.
Her husband shrugged.
"She helped fund the COVID vaccine," my sister continued, and by the time she finished, her husband had come around.
"That is pretty impressive," he agreed, and we didn't even know about the Beatles, then!
We ran a few end-of-the-summer errands yesterday, ending up at one of those off-price department stores. Technically? We were there for fun and colorful poop bags, one of the items on Heidi's list, and since she picks up most of the poop, I am not going to question that.
But of course, we sped-browsed through the other departments, too, Heidi looking at dresses and blouses, and I at kitchenwares and active clothing. It was on the rack in this second section that I found a lovely seafoam-colored crewneck sweatshirt from one of our favorite clothing companies. It had a little dragonfly in the center and the caption, "Change is Good".
Embracing change is not really how I roll, but I bought the sweatshirt anyhow in a conscious effort to be mindful of the concept. And I wore my new pullover today, on the first day of school for teachers. Perhaps it served me well, because there was talk of some big changes coming along, but I wasn't bothered at all.
At the risk of being over-confident-- Year 31? I got you.
