Back in Time

My continuing exploration of the sub life brought me to my old classroom this morning. Just a little over a year since I packed all my things and turned the lights off on what had been my professional home for over 30 years, the room has gone from being a longtime English classroom to U.S. History and now, math. 

For all that, I didn't feel strange or even the least bit emotional at all walking back into room 275 as the teacher in charge. And despite having the same old vintage trapezoidal tables that had been mine for so many decades, the original chalkboards, and even a couple of decorative stuffed dolphins that were gifts to me, it almost felt like a different room. 

Then at 9:38, the principal came on over the loudspeaker and asked for our attention. "Oh, it's September 11," I recalled out loud, and as we listened to her words of remembrance and then observed a minute of silence, I thought how right it seemed to be back in that room, just a mile from the Pentagon, and the place where I was 24 years ago.

Plus One

"Do you have a minute?" a teacher across the hall asked me this morning when I was subbing. We were standing outside our doors as the students arrived, which is the expectation for staff. I did not have a homeroom assignment, so I had more than a minute.

"Sure, what's up?" I replied.

"This student needs help with her locker," he told me.

"Oh boy!" I said gleefully, because teaching sixth graders how to open their lockers was always one of my favorite parts of the beginning of the year. (I also thought of my recently retired friend, Mary, who told me just yesterday that helping kids with their lockers was one of the things she absolutely did not miss.) "I'd love to help! Take me to your locker."

She gave me a curt nod and, with an anxious expression, turned and walked away, her backpack slung over one shoulder. I caught up to her, and as we threaded our way through the crowded halls to the even more crowded locker area, I tried to reassure her.

"Don't worry!" I boasted. "I've taught hundreds of kids to open their lockers! Maybe even a thousand."

She looked at me skeptically. 

"No! Really!" I said. "I used to work here. I taught sixth grade for over 30 years. I have a very high success rate!" I laughed, but she didn't crack a smile. "I predict you will be able to open your lock in less than 10 minutes," I added confidently. "What do you think?"

She raised an eyebrow. "No," she answered.

She handed me the combination, and I removed the padlock. Then we stepped to a quiet place along the wall, where I snapped the lock closed and gave it to her. I talked her through the process once, twice, and then again. I reminded her to turn the dial slowly, reverse directions, and spin it clockwise a few times and start again if she messed up. 

When she had opened it successfully four times, she looked up. "I've got it now," she said, walking back to her locker. "Thanks," she tossed the word over her shoulder.

"Yasssss!" I said to myself. "Make that a thousand AND one!"

Bottom of the Standings

I was optimistic that my new bowling shoes would improve my game this week. And? During warm-up, they seemed to. I bowled three strikes in my five practice frames. Unfortunately, I only bowled three more the rest of the morning, and with mostly open frames, my average actually fell. All around me, women ten years (or more) my senior were killing it, especially compared to me. 

My teammates were patient, but our third-place ranking from last week is gone, and I know I'm substantially responsible. "I look at it like this," our team captain told me philosophically, "you have some good days and some," she shrugged, pointedly, "better days. It's just a game." 

And afterward, a friend told me that when she first joined the league a few years ago, her husband asked her how she did. "Not too bad," she told him. "I got fifty-something."

"Aren't you bowling ten frames?" he replied incredulously.

She laughed when she told me the story and added, "We have a lot more bowling this season! Have fun and don't worry."

Even so, I went right out to the pro shop and got myself a ball. And you better believe I'm going to practice this week!

Budget Cuts

When my friend from high school, Amy, and her sister were in town late last year, my brother and I met them for dinner. At the end of a delicious meal, full of laughing and catching up, Amy was kind enough to pick up the check. "You're retired!" she teased me, "On a fixed income, you probably can't even afford meat!"

She was referring to the steak frites I had ordered. "Things aren't that dire, yet!" I told her.

"Don't worry," my brother said. "I'll buy meat for her if she can't afford it!"

Sadly, that conversation has come up several times in the last nine months as prices have steadily increased on many things, but especially meat. According to the Independent, a combination of livestock diseases, extreme weather, and, of course, tariffs has driven national beef prices up 12.4% since last year, and they are expected to rise as much as 10% more by the end of 2025.

And I thought of it again this morning at the grocery store when I picked up a nice ribeye steak. It was grassfed, about an inch thick, and weighed a little over a pound. The price? Fifty bucks, more than double what the same steak would have cost two years ago.

And while I could afford that? 

I sure did not buy it. (And don't even get me started on coffee!)

Tag Team

When Heidi and I stopped into Trader Joe's for a few things this afternoon, the line wrapped counterclockwise all around the interior perimeter of the store where the dairy case meets the produce section. Rather than abandon our plan, Heidi joined the line with our empty handbasket while I shopped, stopping back with two or three items every minute or so. 

I wondered if our strategy was cheating or if it would annoy our fellow shoppers, but when I finished our list and joined Heidi in line by the cheese case, the lady behind us expressed her admiration. "That's the way to do it!" she laughed. "I'm going to bring backup next time!"

That's Not Creepy at All

A year ago, as I was just beginning my retirement, I was curious about National Park Service jobs and regularly read descriptions of open positions with the agency. Of course, a few months later, many of the people who were hired into the jobs I had read about were summarily fired by the new administration. Even so, I still get notifications about employment opportunities for NPS from a job website I'm subscribed to. 

There are some key differences in the postings now and those of last year. First, all the jobs are paradoxically described as "Temporary, Part-time, Seasonal, Full-time." The hours of these positions are usually capped at 1040 per year, which means that career security and benefits are not part of the deal. 

The other significant difference is the following sentence included under "Additional Information": Candidates should be committed to improving the efficiency of the Federal government, passionate about the ideals of our American republic, and committed to upholding the rule of law and the United States Constitution.

Hmm.

Catching Flies with Honey

In the months after I earned my teaching degree, I worked a few different jobs to make ends meet. I was a retail salesperson at a bookstore, I did some catering, and I was also a substitute teacher. In my opinion, that last job was a necessary evil. I needed to make connections and contacts to find a full-time teaching job, but subbing is usually thankless: teachers leave minimal plans; kids act up; and no one has time to offer any support. 

In the thirty-one years I worked as a teacher, I saw things from another side; I did my best to leave clear plans that would keep students busy and engaged, but I knew that some kids would be rude and disrespectful anyway, and I understood why everyone was too busy to be of much help. And when I retired, there was one thing I was certain of-- I would never substitute teach.

But last spring when a friend and former colleague needed to take several weeks for surgery, I agreed to help out. The gig was ideal-- I knew the school, the team, the curriculum, and sixth graders were my specialty. It went very well, and I accepted a few other jobs at the end of the year.

I still did not think I would ever sub again unless it was nearly under such perfect conditions, but last week I noticed that another friend and former colleague needed coverage for her sixth-grade English class. Again, I knew the school and had helped write the curriculum. I'd even taught the lesson, and since it was only the second week of school, I figured the kids would still be too disoriented to misbehave. And I was right! Even though it was a one-time job, everything was easy and fun. 

Furthermore, I didn't anticipate that there was a new sub-coordinator at the school. The person formerly in the position had always been perfectly nice to me. Still, she had a reputation for being unfriendly and demanding, especially when it came to assigning subs to work extra classes during the teacher's planning time. 

This new coordinator greeted me effusively and told me how much she loved my nephew who worked at her former school. Then she showered appreciation on me and seemed to go out of her way to make the job as easy as possible. So, when she called the room at lunch and asked if I could come back the next day, I couldn't say no. 

Today I subbed for another friend and former colleague in a sixth-grade history class, and it was another good day. I'm also booked for several more jobs at the school in the coming weeks. I'm not fully converted, but I'm not a hard no anymore, either. (Plus, I've already paid for my bowling shoes and bowling ball!)

That coordinator knows what she's doing-- in the past, our school has had so much trouble finding coverage that they have paid teachers to work during their planning time. But as of today? There are 90 sub jobs posted countywide, but not a single one is there.