The Topic Was Pickleball

The morning was a bit chilly and the slant of the light was quite different than it had been all summer when we headed up to the pickleball court around 8:30 this morning. It had been more than a couple of weeks since we played, and it showed as we warmed up. 

Even so, we played a pleasant game and were ready to start our second when a couple of women showed up and claimed the court as reserved. They allowed that it would be fine for us to play on the other court, but one of them had a medical reason for staying in the shade. 

We were willing to move over, though, and were just about to get started when an acquaintance strolled by with her two dogs, and the three of us spent 20 minutes or so catching up. We hadn't talked to her since she retired, and it didn't seem from this conversation that she was loving her life of leisure. "You just have to make sure you have reasons to get up and leave the house," she reported in a bit of a sour tone. "Or at least have something you love to do." She sighed and looked at us. "I would like to take up this game," she gestured to the court, "but I simply can not stand the sound of that ball hitting the paddle." She shook her head in dismay and bade us good-bye with a half-hearted, "Enjoy your game." 

After that, the other two ladies on the court asked if we would be interested in playing doubles. Introducing ourselves, we side-stepped the question of where, exactly, we lived. "Did you say your name was Heidi and you are a teacher?" asked one of them. "Did you ever work at Skyline?"

"I thought I recognized you!" Heidi replied, and it turned out that one of our opponents was Heidi's hair stylist 25 years ago. 

We talked for quite a while before we actually played a game, rambling from the local pickleball controversy to the color of the court lines to rumors of quieter paddles and balls being designed. 

Maybe that would get our other friend out of the house!

Since You Asked

“Did you go running this morning or something?” A student asked me this morning, eying my capri leggings and hoodie with a tiny bit of a sneer.

In response to the note of disparagement I heard in his voice I turned and made eye contact with him. “Are you trying to give me a compliment or do you want me to feel uncomfortable about what I’m wearing?” I asked him in a neutral voice. 

He was taken aback by the directness of my question. “No, no,” he assured me. But then he shrugged and scoffed. “You’re just dressed like you went running or something.”

“You don’t know me very well, yet,” I said, “but I do yoga and meditation every morning.”

His eyes widened a bit, and he returned to his seat, perhaps a bit chastened. And although my morning practice is not why I was dressed as I was, it sure was the reason I handled the situation that way. 

Good Morning to You and You and You and You

I'm making good progress toward knowing all my students' names. Of course, it helps that some of them remember their name cards and, since I've assigned seats, that post-it note in the middle of each table is a great cheat, too.

Several years ago, I decided to commit to standing in the hallway as often as possible and greet as many kids as I could by name. A couple years ago, I invited my early-arriving homeroom students to join me and say good morning also. It was fun to greet everyone and we helped each other with the names that were unfamiliar. 

Today I finally had a chance to start that practice again for this year, and I laughed when a group of now seventh graders found their way back to assist me again. We stood in the hall like old times and said good morning to everyone, using as many names as we could. 

I've been around long enough to know that soon my former students will gravitate more toward their current teachers, which is as it should be, and our mornings together will become fewer and fewer. It makes me a little sad, but I intend to enjoy their company while I can, and I'm sure that there are new sixth graders who will be more than willing to take those spots.

It Tolls for Thee

"Is that the bell?" asked one of the new sixth graders when she heard a soft dinging in the middle of class.

"I think so?" I answered, "But to be honest I'm not sure, because that is not what the bells here have ever sounded like before. Plus, it's not the end of class."

"How long have you been here?" asked another student.

"Thirty years!" I told him, "and the bells have been the same for that entire time! Three nice and loud chimes. I don't know why anyone would want to change it to that little ping!" 

I laughed and stopped my rant so that we could get back to our activity. "Who else heard something interesting about another student in our meet and greet?" I inquired. 

"I found out that A's father went to this school!" reported a student.

"That's right!" I nodded. "He sure did!" 

"Were you here then?" the student continued.

"Yep," I sighed. "It was back when the bells rang the right way."

Not to Jinx Anything

So far, if there's anything notable about this new school year, it's that it hardly feels new at all. Summer break seemed awfully short, and when we returned, it was almost as if we had never left. My classroom came together quickly, and I resumed the old routines like slipping on a familiar pair of jeans. 

Even the new kids don't seem all that new. They've been back in school full-time and in person since 4th grade, and anecdotally, of course, (it has only been one day!) their grasp of appropriate school behavior and habits seems solid. The day passed quickly and smoothly, and I'm looking forward to a similar situation tomorrow.

Fingers crossed!

Association

While he was waiting to talk to another teacher about a new student, I roped a colleague into helping me with the mundane task of recording locker combos on index cards for my incoming homeroom. We sat companionably as he called out the lock number, I read the combination aloud from a spreadsheet and transferred it to a card, and then he slid the card onto the lock. 

"8-26-16," I said, writing it down. "Wait. Isn't your birthday coming?" I interrupted myself.

"Yeah it's Saturday," he answered. "Good memory."

"It was that combination," I told him. "8-26."

"Whoa!" he shook his head. "I feel like I just got a glimpse inside your brain. Does it really work that way?"

"Pretty much," I laughed, going on to the next combination.

A Timely Reminder

I was really happy to have so many of my former students stop by at the open house at school the other day. Not only was it wonderful to catch up with them and see how great they looked, taller and relaxed after a summer off, but it was also nice for the new students and their families to hear a kid's perspective on my class. Their commentary was funny and sweet, and it was gratifying to know how much they appreciated our year together, although there was also a tendency to exaggerate. 

"She has a magic portal in her desk," one boy assured the other visitors earnestly. "It produces an endless supply of Jolly Ranchers!" He looked at me. "Should we show them?"

"Nice try!" I laughed and thought of my empty bottom drawer; I hadn't had time to shop for my signature incentive. "I'm afraid the portal's closed until school starts next week," I explained, and then walked over to the to-do list on my desk and added Jolly Ranchers.