Three Day Week, Three Day Week, Three Day Week

With quarter's end nigh, it's been sheer chaos after school. The sevens have been staying past that final bell day after day after, so help me god, day to complete missing work and finish the project they've been working on for over a week now. Given that all poetry booklets were officially due IN CLASS today and the kiddos had the weekend to polish them up, I thought it safe to schedule a dentist appointment. Um. Wrong.

One by one, they rolled into my room like I was giving away candy. As one asked me a question, another plopped himself down at a computer, another opened the closet to get out the paper supplies, another picked up a book to look for poems.

"Can I just print my poems?"

"Fine, but I have a dentist appointment today."

"Can I just make a cover?"

"Fine, but I have a dentist appointment today."

"Can I just type my table of contents?"

"Fine, but I have a dentist appointment today."

Those things all seemed manageable, but before I knew it, I had fifteen students sprawled around the room. And with it so full, they stopped asking for permission to be there and all I could whimper to my sad self was, "But I have a dentist appointment today."

Having lost control of the situation, I began to make deals with the lingerers. When one asked for a rubber band, I said I'd give her one only if she would then GET OUT. If one asked to use the phone, I replied, "Yep. Then get out." Get out. Get out. Get out. They were the only words I had left. Finally, Mr. E stopped in and asked loud enough for all to hear, "Ms. D, don't you have a dentist appointment today?"

"Yes!" I cried. "Did you all hear that? I have a DENTIST appointment today! That means I HAVE to leave and you HAVE to GET OUT!"

And would you believe one boy had the nerve to say, "Why didn't you just tell us?" He took one look at my face and packed up his things.

I made it to my dentist appointment on time, and sitting in that chair anticipating the numbing, drilling, sucking, and filling was the best part of my whole day.

Lowering the Bar

Last week, I didn't do anything particularly well. Tasks were forgotten, items lost, and words miscommunicated. It was a blur of movement from one minor crisis to another. As I reflect upon it all today, I think it best to blame others. If no responsibilities were placed upon me, I wouldn't have to let anyone down. Embracing this philosophy will, I hope, release a bit of the pressure caused by impending deadlines in the week to come. I'll do what I can, and all the rest is just someone else's problem.

Sigh.

I feel better already.

Mea Culpa

I think I made a great impression on my new graduate school advisor today -- I came on the wrong day for our meeting and made her think the error had been her own. My email archives confirm that, indeed, I had made the mistake. I didn't realize this until after complaining to other grad. school pals about the absent-mindedness of my brilliant, albeit spacey, guiding professor. Turns out, I'm the space cadet who can't even claim my work on the next great research discovery transcends all daily responsibilities and I should therefore be forgiven for my less-than-perfect appointment keeping. Nope. I'm just an ass.

Snow Day

That's my tree. Beneath the snow. That's my cable wire. Beneath the tree. Last night's storm has one resting atop the other. There are only so many possible endings for this story.

And He Wasn't Even Exaggerating

"Hey, Ms. D. Look what I can do," T says to me as he touches his eyeball with his finger. "It doesn't even hurt!"

"Fascinating, T," I reply dryly. "But why am I looking at that?"

"Because it's fun," he says.

Why else?

Later, when I check on T to see how his hyperbole poem is coming along, I find a blank page in front of him.

"T," I inquire, "where's your poem?"

"Umm," he looks around as if maybe it's walked away.

"What have you been doing for twenty-five minutes?" I continue.

He smiles and answers like I've heard this a million times, "Poking myself in the eye."

And only in 7th grade is that a plausible activity. For twenty-five minutes, probably straight, he really DID poke himself in the eye. Literally. What do you say to that? I had nothing, so I just turned and walked away.

Mercury is Definitely in Retrograde

The to-do list keeps getting longer, and I keep getting lazier. If I don't kick it into high gear this weekend, I'm in big trouble as we near the end of the quarter. Bit by bit. Day by day. I can do it. . . starting tomorrow.

Freudian Slipknot

We start the poetry unit with a rhyming poem that has a distinct pattern and refrain. Even the poetic nay-sayers have a little fun with it and find they CAN write poetry. Mostly, I am amazed by the large handful of students who can't follow the pattern or make words rhyme, but my favorite exchange so far came from a boy who had no trouble with that part of the assignment:

"Ms. D, I'm stuck. I need help with my poem about Slipknot."

"Okay. What do you like about Slipknot?"

"They are pretty hardcore."

"There you go. You can rhyme easily with core."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

I wander to another table, but am called back just a minute later.

"Ms. D, I'm still stuck. I like that idea, but what rhymes with whore?" Pause. Realization. Blurt. "I MEAN CORE!"

The other students at the table nearly wet themselves laughing and I couldn't the find words to respond through my own snickering.

The boy understood there was no turning back. The one word he could think of but couldn't use had been spoken. He knew there was only one thing left to say: "Well. I guess I found a word."

The Friendship

The ex-boyfriend and I have decided to be friends. As an appropriate amount of time has gone by (according to Charlotte's break up philosophy), I figured that two mature adults could handle this. Thinking that public places are best for such reunions, I suggested a movie. Unfortunately, my timing was a little off and the only movies he hadn't seen were playing too late in the evening to remain awake for them. Instead, we decided on dinner and renting.

The dinner part was easy. Good conversation -- mostly about work -- over pizza and cups of wine. No mention of our dating lives now. No problem.

Then, it was movie time, and here's where it gets tricky. We've done this routine over and over, but it usually involves cuddling, hand-holding, or other annoyingly cute things couples do. When the routine changes, it becomes painfully apparent. I sat on one side of the couch, he on the other. Oceans of tension between us. For two hours, my attention went not to the movie, but to whether or not he meant to brush my foot or move two inches closer. It was a long, slow movie.

When it was over, I jumped up, stretched, yawned, and headed for the door. "Want to get together again soon?" he asked. "Sure," I replied. "But let's go running."

His mouth said, "Great idea," but his smile said, "Say no more." We always did have that unspoken understanding between us.