Goo News

When she talks about enlightenment, my morning yoga and meditation teacher often says, "You have to go through the goo to get to the ru." She means learning to use the practice to stay centered no matter what life throws at you.

The last couple of days have provided plenty of goo to work through. Starting with several new instructional initiatives by the central ELA office, there has been a lot of work to do after my teaching day is through. My classes are larger this year, and I'm working with 2 new co-teachers who are also new to the building. Our administration has decided to cross-team special education and English language learners, which in my opinion weakens the safety net for some of our students who need the most support. Our counselor is new, and students keep getting added and moved around my classes, upsetting the dynamic I'm trying to build, as well as overloading four of my sections, while making one almost unproductively small. 

And finally, in his weekly email to staff, our superintendent off-handedly dropped the news that every single employee will be enrolled in a new insurance plan starting in January 2024. For me, the change is a nuisance, transferring prescriptions and checking to see if my doctors are still in-network, but for Heidi, it is overwhelmingly enormous. 

She has been with her HMO for 30 years, and has a health team in place to help her manage her type 1 diabetes. Now, she has to find and put together a new team and also manage the transfer of her prescriptions, insulin pump, continuous glucose monitor, and their supplies by the first of the year. There is no guarantee that her devices will be covered or supported by the new plan.

54% of employees of our school system and their families are in the same boat, including women expecting children, children with chronic health care issues, patients with surgeries scheduled after January 1, and those being treated for both severe and minor health issues. They will lose their doctors, their counselors, and other healthcare professionals.

The change has been in the works since January and was decided in July, and yet staff is just being notified of the done deal now. Now that's some goo.

Picture Day

"You know what I've noticed?" A colleague new to our building asked me this morning.

I tilted my head. "What?"

"The boys are waaaaaay more dressed up for picture day than the girls."

I looked around the classroom. Anecdotally, she was right. One boy wore a jacket, several had collared shirts, and many had product in their hair to keep the part razor sharp. But that turned out to be just one class. Later in the day, several girls showed up in dresses and cute outfits they do not usually wear to school. 

When I was in school, picture day was huge, and everyone came dressed up. In kindergarten, my mom gave me a home permanent to add some body to my fine blond hair. She combed and pinned it to perfection before sending me off. 

She was aghast when next she saw me. After a day of K, my outfit was askew and my hair a mess. "Is that what you looked like for your picture?" she asked.

I shrugged.

"How did you smile?" she said.

I showed her a toothless grimace that at least showed my dimple. She shook her head, knowing what the pictures we got back a few weeks later would show.

"I've worn this dress the last three years for picture day!" one of the students told me this morning.

I nodded with some admiration. "I read about a teacher once who wore the exact same sweater on picture day every year for 20 years," I told her. "I really wish I'd thought of that!"

"It's never too late," she advised me.

Oh, but it is! I thought. Even so, I shrugged agreeably and climbed the stairs to strike my pose.

Here's Your Hat, What's Your Hurry?

And so it begins...

Because our leader has a class scheduled in her classroom, our team meeting is in my room this year. The sun was shining through the window and the tables were neat and orderly when a younger colleague walked in for the meeting this afternoon. She paused and smiled. "When you retire?" she said to me. "I'm going to get this room!"

RGF

"You know what's tremendous about you?" a student asked me today. He was referring to the daily question which, this morning, related to my greeting "Let's make it a tremendous Tuesday, Writers!" The students were directed to find the definition of 'tremendous' in the *gasp* physical dictionaries on their tables, and then share something they found tremendous about themselves.

"What?" I asked in return.

"You have relaxed grumpy face,"  he informed me. 

I examined his face, appraising his intention and considering how close his description was to the sexist and ageist term "resting bitch face". 

"What does that mean?" I prompted.

His eyes shifted, and I suspected he did not mean to compliment me. "You know," he backpedaled, "you're so relaxed and calm all the time."

"How does the grumpy fit in?" I inquired.

"Uhhh," he stammered, "it doesn't?"

If he only knew.

Rough Morning

Well, folks, the honeymoon is over. 

On this Monday morning, the sixth graders were acting like, well, middle schoolers. The school day hadn't even officially started when a girl dropped the f-bomb over her shoulder as she sauntered down the hall. She seemed surprised that I objected to her language. "Really?" I asked. "Do you talk like that around your parents?"

She shrugged.

A little while later I asked another student to change seats so she could collaborate with a small group, and at first, she flat-out refused. I was pretty insistent, but I could see her sizing me up and calculating whether it was worth the hassle, before she slowly moved over.

Then, after the brain break, a young man sat red-faced at his table, tears rolling down his cheeks. The three-minute activity had only involved bouncing ping-pong balls into solo cups with a partner, and so I was unsure about his situation. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"My partner threw the ping pong ball really hard and hit me in the groin," he sniffled. Upon return from the clinic, he had the only thing they prescribe, a baggy of ice wrapped in a paper towel. I can only assume it was a comfort to him as he applied it to the affected area under the table. I didn't really need to see it for myself. 

And that was all before 9:30.

The Wonder of It

As my sister and I chatted on the phone this afternoon, our conversation made its way to a cat we had 35 years ago, Noah. She was comparing her new kitten's jumping skills to his, and the image of Noah, leaping three feet straight up and catching a bouncing superball midair with his paws and then tucking it into his mouth before landing, flooded into my memory. 

"Wow!" I told her, "I had completely forgotten how he did that!"

I shouldn't have been surprised. Just yesterday, while listening to the AT Top 40 from this week in 1975, I literally gasped when the song Rocky came on. "Oh my gosh," I told Heidi, "I haven't thought of this song in at least 40 years!" But still I could sing every cheese lyric. She said Rocky I've never had a baby before, don't know if I can do it, but if you let me lean on you, take my hand I might get through it.

And then again today, an email made me look back to the October 2016 archive of this blog. Skimming through the entries, I read my thoughts and reports of that month, and again, I don't really have much recollection of what I was talking about. 

I have read advice to approach aging with confidence and wonder, rather than fear. I get that, especially in the sense that I wonder what else I've completely forgotten!

Go West, Mature Women

The day was so pretty, quintessential September blue skies, cool air, and warm sun, that I couldn't stay put. "Let's go somewhere!" I said to Heidi.

I tapped the map app on my phone and pinched it in a bit to widen the area. Then I swiped a bit to the right and dropped my finger randomly on Gore, VA. Next, I opened my hiking app and searched for nearby possibilities. I ended up with the trails at the Museum of Shenandoah Valley in Winchester, which wind several miles through 90 acres, through woods and pastures and past engaging landscape features and art installations. And, while the museum and its gardens have an admissions charge, the trails are free.

The trip out there was about 90 minutes, but I offered Heidi the chance to break it in Marshall, VA, home of the famous Red Truck Bakery, named one of America's best small-town bakeries by Travel+Leisure Magazine, which she of course accepted. And so we set out, American Top 40 from 1975 on the radio, and the mountains ahead.

And the day was just as sublime as it promised to be.