Three servings of spaghetti, five pieces of bread, several slices of cantaloupe, a cheese sandwich and some chocolate pudding rounded out the evening food intake between two boys tonight.  I had forgotten how boys of this age are just bottomless pits.

What followed were a couple of showers, one boy vehemently telling me that they only brushed their teeth in the morning, only to go back and brush his teeth later anyway.  Grandma has been through this kind of thing before.  Then tucking them in with yet another blanket, another pillow and water bottles, making sure the fish tank was enough of a night light and that the door was closed just enough.

In 12 hours, I feed them three meals, played two games, watched cartoons, walked to the comic book store, took one of them to a movie in a blizzard and kept them from fighting each other and I’m exhausted.  It was all I could do NOT to take a nap at home and I’ll admit I dozed off in those comfy seats at the movie a few times, only to be woken up by my grandson sharing an interesting tidbit about the Lego Movie 2.  I don’t think he noticed.

I did this with one, two and then three boys for a total of 25 years and survived and honestly  I’m not sure how.  This is certainly a young person’s game, keeping up with boys but I supposed you do what you’ve gotta do.  I often wonder what it would be like with girls.  Do they sit quietly and play with dolls and color and read?  I know I did.  I think I could actually handle that now, but having deja vu with grandsons, even as infrequently as it is is very eye opening and tends to require a day to recoup.

In case you’re wondering I LOVE my grandsons but I was never that hand-on mom and as much as I would love to be, I’m not a great hands on grandma – yet.  I’m working on it. I have a great example in my mother-in-law who even at her age will get on the floor with the boys and play tinker toys and Lincoln logs.  They love her and I want to be like her SO badly, but I’m not sure I’m very good at this kind of thing.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve often wondered what being a grandparent was going to be like and how I would develop a relationship with my grandkids.  I observed my own children’s relationships with their grandparents and I learned over the years that their relationships were very different.  One grandparent was described as the one who bought them things and the other one was the grandparent who spent time with them.  As they’ve gotten older, you can imagine the one they think of most fondly.

I found myself becoming a bit stressed today, mainly because I never thought of myself as a very good parent, although I will admit I got a little better as I got older, and I don’t want to screw things up with my grandchildren.  Can I spoil without being too lenient, can I have expectations for behavior and still have them like me?  I feel like part of my responsibly as a grandparent is to honor the wishes of their parents.  Am I worrying too much?  These kids have already had a tough beginning to their lives and I want to make things wonderful for them now, but I also want them to grow up to be great people.

So now, an hour after we put them to bed, after spilling their water and fighting over pillows and setting up a fort, grandpa is sitting in the room with them because fighting and whining is what tends to happen when you put two boys in the same room who are used to having their own rooms.  He’s a great guy and much more patient than I am, thank goodness.  Now it’s time to crash.

Blissfully unaware of the time, I got up from my seat at the concert and began heading for the door.  It was so relaxing and rejuvenating to watch these professionals, singing along with the songs I knew, tapping my feet to those I didn’t and just closing my eyes and taking it all in.  So it wasn’t until I heard someone ahead of me say, “wow, it’s 11:00!” that I realized it was past my bedtime.

10:00 p.m. is the goal to be in bed and if all goes well, I’m asleep soon after.  We were still in the arena at 11:00 which meant walking to the car, getting through traffic (yes, there’s some traffic in little Lincoln), and getting ready for school the next day before jumping into bed.  By the time that happened it was midnight and the next six hours went pretty quickly.

Up at 6:00 and at school about 7:15, I could not stop yawning and could not keep my eyes open despite the massive amounts of caffeine I was taking in.  At one point I thought about napping until my first class but then I got my stuff together and kicked into my usual routine.  Somehow I woke up enough to begin teaching and then was saved by my wonderful student teacher while I worked on paperwork.  Age is a wonderful thing.

All of this is a bit ironic considering who I saw in concert last night –  you know, the ones who actually worked on stage for hours.  James Taylor is 70 and his “warm-up” act Bonnie Raitt, who at age 69 rocked the stage with her down and dirty blues and virtuoso guitar playing.  All I had done was sit on my butt for 3 1/2 hours and they had played a show.  A LONG show.  With the energy of someone half their age but with the expertise of someone who had literally been doing this for two thirds of their lifetime.

Perhaps they don’t have to get up as early as I do.  They also have someone who literally runs on and off the stage bringing them things like different guitars and stools.  I on the other hand have to herd cats – I mean children – for hours a day.  It’s a different kind of lifestyle, that’s for sure.  But 70?!?  Even some of their band members were in their 60’s and 70’s and they rocked the house.  Doing what you love, even if it means playing the same music night after night, must keep you young.  Obviously I must not be doing what I love or I wouldn’t be so tired, right?

I also observed people around me, the median age seeming to be, well, MY age.  I watched them sway together in groups, their arms around each others shoulders.  I watched a woman my age or more dancing by herself to the music and older couples holding each other while moving to the music. People were singing and bopping their heads, some yelling “we love you James” or we love you Bonnie” to people who in reality were complete strangers but who also created the soundtracks to our teen aged years.  It’s hard not to feel connected to people and their music when you remember singing or dancing to it in high school with your boyfriend or girlfriend at the dance or at the local pizza parlor.  It’s like getting lost in a great conversation with a person you’ve known forever until you realize how late it’s getting.  Like past your bedtime late.

So as I sit here still trying not to fall asleep, as it approaches my bedtime, thinking about these older people who still manage to rock out until 11:00 p.m. and I think, more power to them.  I admire them. But I’m going to bed now.

 

 

 

 

 

As an educator, I realize that subjects like reading, math and science are the tested subjects and therefore considered to be at the top of the pecking order of academia.  As a music educator, I believe that music and the arts are essential to the education of the whole child.  However, I’ve recently become aware of a deficit in education that is going to result in millions of people losing their way literally.  That subject is geography.

I’m currently watching a basketball game where Missouri is said to be in the southeastern conference.  Unless Missouri has recently moved, it is solidly in the middle of the midwest.  I know this because I’ve had to drive through it to get to the southeast.  And I love Texas, after all it’s where I was born, but it is set solidly in the south central part of the country, not the southeast. But going back up north, perhaps Missouri wants to move east, after all, Saint Louis is in the Atlantic 10.

Louisville is another school who thinks it is on the east coast.  Don’t they realize people will get lost thinking that Louisville is on the Atlantic Coast and Kentucky is in the Southeast and yet they are in the same state?  How confusing is this?  However, they aren’t alone, as someone must think  Notre Dame and Pittsburgh are on the Atlantic Coast as well.

Butler and Xavier are more midwestern than Big East but poor Creighton is really off kilter as a school in a state that is just about the farthest from any ocean.  Have we stopped teaching directions as well as geography?  I’m sure there are others, but doesn’t it concern you that these are institutions of higher learning and they don’t know where they are?

It’s not just geography of course.  Math seems to be an issue as well.  The Big 12 is actually the Big 10 and the Big Ten is actually the Big 14.  Maybe it’s the new math and I’m just not up to speed.  What in the world are we teaching in schools these days?

Of course, it’s not just obvious academic issues in terms of geography and math,  it’s a cultural issue as well.  Seriously, there’s not a hint of a southern accent from Missouri and I’m pretty sure they aren’t connoisseurs of country ham, biscuits and sweet tea, which I would think would be a prerequisite to joining any part of the southeast, bless their hearts.

All of this is very tongue in cheek of course, but I’m always surprised at how many young people don’t know the basics of geography in our own country, much less of the world.  In an age where the world seems to be getting smaller, wouldn’t you think it would important to learn those places on the map that we can call or Skype any time of the day or night?  Of course it’s difficult to put in the time necessary when all emphasis is placed on only two or three subjects.  Just a little personal commentary there.

So my question is, where are all of those lovely mimeographed pages of the United States maps that we had to fill in and color?  Where are the maps of the continents with the countries I had to look up to spell?  They seemed like fun when I was a kid but I certainly remember what I learned so it must have worked.  I definitely learned that Missouri is NOT in the southeastern United States!

This Friday some friends, my husband and I are going to a paranormal investigation of a building here in town.  As long as I can remember, I have been fascinated by ghost stories and the supernatural.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I checked out every ghost book in my school library several times when I was a kid.  Oh sure, I was also the kid who was convinced that if I left any appendage outside of the blankets at night that something from under the bed would grab it, but still I loved to read about them.

And there is no end to the paranormal shows on TV, my favorite being Dead Files.  Whether or not you believe, it is intriguing to watch someone who is supposed to be able to see the dead work with someone who is supposed to be analytical and investigative.  Of course it’s also fun to watch things like Ghost Adventures or Ghost Bros as my son calls it, but you never actually see anything so it’s not as fun.

So, have I ever experienced anything out of the ordinary that I can’t explain?  I’m so glad you asked!  Why yes, I have.  So here are a few stories and experiences for you to enjoy and either believe – or not.

The first house we moved to in Lincoln was this cute older two story house with a basement, a prairie style design.  We were given permission to paint and wallpaper what we wanted to spruce things up which I personally loved.  Our oldest son was in a room at the top of the stairs with the other two boys in a room down the hall.  None of them ever said anything about seeing or hearing anything while we were there but after we left shared that my oldest didn’t like his closet for some reason.  One evening I remember being at home by myself downstairs when I heard footsteps on the wood floors upstairs. I don’t remember feeling afraid, like whatever or whoever it was wasn’t trying to scare me, it just WAS.

After we moved we found out that the new residents asked our neighbor if anything strange every happened in the house because they had heard some noises as well.  Haunted?  Perhaps.  I’ll return to Lincoln in a minute, but first a trip to Savannah Georgia, one of the most haunted cities in the country.

We’ve taken a couple of haunted walking tours in this beautiful city, full of history that lends itself to ghost stories.  One of those tours stopped at the Moon River Brewing Company on Bay Street.  This place is full of stories of strange happenings, especially on the upper floors where they have been trying to renovate for years.  We were fortunate enough to be taken to the second floor where we stood together in a small group listening to our tour guide.  At a certain point in her spiel, she suddenly stopped and said we were leaving.  Right before this I watched a shadow, low on the wall move along the side of the wall and disappear.  No one in the room had moved and the only light in the room was a bare overhead light bulb.  Again, no feeling of fear, just something moving across the wall.

Since moving into our current place, many interesting things have happened.  Smelling matches and smoke in our room, and seeing a shadow in the same spot in the hall by the kitchen.  Most of the things seem to happen in or near our room.  We have both felt something touch us, at one point a hand caressed my head and something touched my husband’s arm.  Someone has sat on the bed to the point where I can feel the weight on the mattress and my husband has heard a voice next to him.  Just recently I’ve heard things falling like something got knocked over somewhere and I haven’t been able to find anything and just the other evening I heard two deep breaths next to me.  Nobody was home but me and everything was turned off so there were no sounds coming from anything else.  Paranormal?  Maybe.  I have to admit that the last couple wigged me out a bit but at the same time I’m again intrigued.  After all, energy can’t be destroyed, so is someone trying to get my attention.  Maybe.

So this Friday, I’m hoping, with slight trepidation that something cool will happen during this investigation.  And then I’m hoping I’ll be able to go to sleep that night.  I’ll just be sure to keep both arms and legs and maybe my head under the covers!

Getting home from a trip of any kind is wonderful but soon the realities of life creep back in.  It’s back to work, back to cleaning up the place, washing clothes, shopping, etc.  Thankfully I have a husband who cooks, but like everyone else I know, I come back to bringing home the bacon and frying it in a pan as the song goes.

What a luxury it is to stay in a nice hotel.  My hosts this weekend, as with all the states I’ve had the chance to visit, put me up in a very nice room, a place where I could get away and be by myself to work or nap or write.  It’s a blessing I don’t take lightly as I know it is an expense to the organization I’m there to serve.  As a kid who grew up in the 60’s and 70’s living in a lower middle class family, my memories of any vacations usually happened during transitions from one Air Force base to another and we stayed at smaller hotels, usually with an outdoor pool and hopefully during warm weather. We still thought they were awesome.

We couldn’t afford to stay in really nice places, and so as an adult, I am so grateful for a really clean place with great service.  Like bed fairies.  I love bed fairies.  You leave your room to do whatever it is you came to do and you get back and the bed is made, the garbage is taken out and the bathroom is cleaned and restocked.  What more could you ask for?  As the person responsible for cleaning two thirds of the bathrooms at our place, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for those bed fairies.

And then there is room service.  As a kid I was just excited to get ice cream at the Howard Johnson restaurant but to be able to pick up the phone and ask for exactly what you want and someone brings it to you is wonderful.  Eating in the privacy of your room, especially when you’re traveling alone is a gift.  Sure the amount the hotel charges is ridiculous, but every once in a while it’s a really nice treat for yourself.

At these kinds of things, there are always lunch meetings and receptions and again, there are very kind people asking you if you want more tea or what kind of wine you want.  There are bellmen who open doors for you and people at the front desk who text you to ask if there is anything you need.  There’s the gentleman who asks at the end of your breakfast if you would like more Diet Coke to go, before you even ask.

Sure, I understand that this is a service industry and they’re paid to do these kinds of things, but when done with a smile or a greeting, it can make your day.  If you really think about it, none of these things are really extraordinary in and of themselves, just kind things done with a great attitude and a smile.  Things that any of us could do on any day at any time for someone else.  Sometimes it’s the smallest gesture done with great heart that can change someone’s day.

I’m not saying we need to go to each other’s homes and make each other’s beds but there are a million kind things we can do for each other that takes very little time and no money.  Done with a smile and a great attitude, we could be the change we want to see in the world and be an example to others in the process.  A kind note, a shoulder to lean on, or a listening ear are oftentimes the only thing a person needs when they’re struggling a bit.

So I continue to be grateful for the little things, the kind notes given to me by students and colleagues, the beautiful red rose next to my bed from my best friend, hugs from my family, and yes, bed fairies and room service.

A very unassuming woman took the podium tonight, accepting an award as Music Educator of the Year.  She has been at the same school for decades, serving an impoverished community through her teaching of music.  However there was something in her nomination letters that nearly brought me to tears.  This is a woman who not only teaches music well, but over the years has used her own money to make sure children in her school are warm, fed and clothed.

She credited a mentor for teaching her to serve in this way but how incredible is this?  I do not know this woman but was incredibly inspired and then almost immediately shamed.  Shamed because I allowed myself to be moved to anger by an ignorant human whose words drove me to label myself a Loser Teacher and encouraging others to do the same.  This woman was anything but a loser and her students are winners because of her.

I’ve spent the last couple of days in Minnesota, part of the heartland of this country.  A place where I was greeted by warm, hearty handshakes and big smiles.  A place where invitations to join were freely given but where my need for alone time and privacy were honored.  I watched men who are leaders in their professional organization honor others with words of kindness and genuine affection.  Words not scripted days ahead of time but written on yellow pads, simple yet eloquent.  The words from the recipients were just as simple, not speaking about themselves but usually honoring those who had helped or mentored them throughout the years.  They were merely passing it forward.

What I think I had forgotten is that those outside of the educational profession may never understand what it is that we do or sacrifice on a day to day, week to week, year to year basis.  Maybe for those whose existence consists of seeing how much money they can make or how many people they can put down, it’s out of their realm of understanding that there are educated people in the world who still care about others more than themselves.  Maybe they don’t understand that we surround ourselves with others who understand what we do, not just to vent to or commiserate but to learn from and be inspired by them.

This morning I did a session for their conference about advocacy and one of the activities I ask participants to do is to get with a person or two and share why they initially decided to teach music and why they continue to do so.  Within seconds I saw animated smiling faces, people sharing with colleagues, friends and strangers of what gets them excited about teaching music.  No matter how tired or overworked they are or how unappreciated they feel, most teachers understand the bottom line – it’s not about them, it’s about the kids.  And while I know no profession is perfect and that there are some teachers who have their own agendas and unwisely push those agendas on their students, the vast majority of teachers do exactly the opposite.  They want their students to love learning and to think for themselves.  We serve merely as facilitators in that journey.

So, I take it all back.  I was wrong. I am not a loser teacher and neither are my colleagues and because of us, neither are our students.  People who don’t get it or don’t want to get it have to be let go because putting the focus on them takes the focus off of what’s more important and for a little while, I forgot that.  If one of my students comes to me when someone has called them a name, I first ask them if what the other person said is true.  The answer is usually “no”.  Then, if it’s not true, you have the right to let them know you don’t agree with them and then if they don’t apologize, you walk away and not worry about it.  I needed to take my own advice.

So I thank my colleagues to the north, those wonderful music educators of Minnesota whose warm hearts counteract the bitter cold temperatures, who reminded me that together, we are all winners with and for our students.

 

 

 

 

“You know what I love? I love seeing some young conservatives because I know it’s not easy. (Crowd applauds and shouts.) Keep up that fight. Bring it to your schools. You don’t have to be indoctrinated by these loser teachers that are trying to sell you on socialism from birth. You don’t have to do it. Because you can think for yourselves. They can’t.” 

Donald Trump , Jr.  2/11/19

You know what I love?  I just love it when wanna be politicians label and toss people into homogeneous groups to suit their causes.  I love it when politicians assume that because I teach that I have an agenda like they do, to apparently brainwash small children into thinking that a particular type of governance is better than any other.  I love it when politicians resort to name calling rather than intellectual discussion or debate to prove their points or ideas.  Oh I’m sorry – did I just throw all politicians into one homogeneous group?  How politically incorrect am I?

I’ve been avoiding the news for a while now, mainly because I can’t deal with the negativity and name calling.  However, tonight I read a post on social media written by the daughter of a friend of mine, both of whom happen to be teachers.  In it she wrote an eloquent open letter to Jr. expressing her thoughts as to why indeed, she was a loser, listing all the things she loses because she chooses to teach children.  Then she describes all of the things she gains as a result of her losses.  She admits, she is a “loser”.

Of course, losing is in the eye of the beholder I suppose.  Just like anything else, it’s difficult to make a judgement call like this unless you’ve actually walked the walk or in this case, walked in a teacher’s shoes.  Everyone I know has had teachers in their lives, but having a teacher and BEING a teacher are different things.  Just like seeing a doctor and being a doctor are different things.  The difference being, people who aren’t doctors don’t tend to tell doctors how to practice or call them losers.  Am I actually comparing teachers to doctors?  Why not?  Both professions take many years to obtain various degrees, both require internships, both are professionals, both focus on helping people.  Yes, I’m putting them both in the same category.

Tonight again as I was scanning social media, I came upon people “discussing” the teacher strike in Denver where teachers are asking for better pay.  Teachers all over the country work more than one job and/or work over the summer (when they’re not in school or required professional development), have roommates or can’t afford to buy a home.  One response jumped out at me as I was reading – “stop complaining.  You knew what you were getting when you chose teaching.  Stop complaining or find another job”.

Well, here’s the first misconception.  Teaching is not a “job”.  It is at the very least a “profession” and at the very most a “calling”.  Those who choose teaching because it seems like something fun to do where you have great hours and summers off are very quickly disillusioned when they discover it’s exactly the opposite and promptly leave to find another “job”.  For those of us who have stuck it out, despite the low pay, the disrespect, taking second jobs and roommates to survive, taken on the added requirements by people who are not in education, the constant testing of children and taking away of recess and the arts, we stay because we love and want to help children.  My calling is to help children to be kind, responsible, hard working, respectful people, with no intention of pushing them into one particular vein of thought, but to make them aware of multiple ways of thinking and doing and living, guiding them to find their way and to make their own decisions.  My discipline may be music, but my calling is to guide children to be the best humans they can be.

So is it too much to ask to be treated fairly, as a professional, when we hold in our hands the lives of our country’s children?  I’m very fortunate that I’m paid a decent salary because my district respects our teachers, but this is not true everywhere.  Is it too much to ask to make a professional salary when one holds a professional degree?  Yes, young people get into teaching are just grateful to have any salary after going through school, but soon, reality sets in when they start looking at maybe getting married and/or raising a family.

I’ll end with this analysis I’m sure many have seen.  Let’s say we pay teachers what we would pay a babysitter because after all, some look at teachers as glorified babysitters.  And let’s say that each parent pays $5.00/hour for seven hours a day to teach that child.  That’s $35.00 per day to teach that child.  But I don’t have just one child in my class, I have 25.  So, let’s make that $875.00 per day.  The average teacher works a 180 day calendar, which of course doesn’t include all of the other meetings, professional developments, classes, workshops, etc. that are required, but that’s ok.  So that means if I teach 25 kids each day at $5.00 per hour per child, I should be making $157,500 per year.  In reality, I personally am being paid about $2.10 per hour per child and I’m fortunate.  Just think about that for a little while.

So, maybe I am a loser.  I chose to get into this profession, to answer this calling.  I’m intelligent enough that I suppose I could have chosen any number of things to do, but I was called to teach and to teach music specifically.  Perhaps we need to start a movement – “I’M PROUD TO BE A LOSER”.  And when the next election cycle comes along, perhaps we’ll see a new group of losers instead.

 

A simple piece of white copy paper.  In itself, not so remarkable, but in the eyes of a child it can be just about anything.  In education, I believe we’re trying to get away from paper as much as we can, giving children Chrome Books to do their work instead of writing things down, testing them on computers instead of using pencil and paper.  As like many of you, I understand that killing trees for paper is not a good thing and that recycling is a necessity, however, I wonder if in the process we’re taking away a source of creativity for children.

As an example, due to the weather, our students have been stuck inside for weeks and teachers have been doing their best to come up with things to keep students, especially the younger ones, occupied.  When these teachers were small children themselves, like my own children, videos kept them occupied and sometimes I think we’re in this mindset that videos can become babysitters.  But what I’ve discovering is that kids get bored with something they can’t interact with and so videos only last so long before restlessness sets in again.

In order to allow students to get in some movement we then employ activity videos like GoNoodle where students imitate the movements they see on the screen.  For some kids this works pretty well, but again, they’re not really creating anything, they’re copying someone else’s creativity and so even this doesn’t appeal to kids.  And when there’s a ratio of adults to children that would scare away most adults,  you want something that will keep them busy and engaged for a longer period of time.  For that, I suggest the humble piece of white paper.

Having a stack of this paper with some scissors, glue, colored pencils and markers allows kids to be creative and keeps them busy.  It’s amazing to watch.  That white paper can turn into a mini work of art or a card for someone.  It can be cut to make snowflakes and glued together to make designs and pictures.  It can be folded to make airplanes and games.  It can be crumpled up to become a ball to shoot baskets into the trash can.  Kids crave doing this kind of work with their hands.  Several years ago I had a group of kids complain to me that taking tests on a computer was boring because all you do is click on things and they would rather fill in the circle on paper.  There’s something satisfying about drawing and filling in shapes that a computer will never fulfill.

Now I totally get that this can be a waste of paper and as a teacher who needs to begin their lesson after recess, I know it takes longer to clean up than tapping on an iPad or laptop to stop a video, but I often wonder about the possible benefits to a child’s mind and psyche when they can relax and create. It’s a little ironic actually, that a generation ago, paper and colored pencils were boring and all they wanted to do was watch videos but now kids want to color again.  Even adults are coloring now as a form of relaxation therapy.  What does that say about us as humans?

Going back thousands of years, people have found the need to draw things and to use color in their drawings.  You have to wonder about the first person to decide to crush berries or something to create color for his or her artwork.  It’s like whoever decided it would be cool to pound a rhythm on a log or put small holes in a bone and blow through it to create music.  It’s that innate need for humans to create art using their hands and bodies that we can’t stop.  Even if we take away their paper.

It’s the most ingenious marketing plan ever devised.  Get really sweet go-getter little girls to sell the most addictive cookies ever made and prepare to take over the world.  Ladies and gentlemen, it’s Girl Scout cookie time and that means everyone who was really trying to keep that New Year’s resolution can now chuck it out the window.

My personal cookie supplier hits me up weeks in advance.  “Hey Mrs. Bush, do you want to buy some Girl Scout cookies?” she asks in that sweet, high pitched little voice.  All smiles, knowing full well she’s the first person to ask me, she’s got me around her little finger.  I always tell the kids that the first person to approach me about buying something is the only person I will buy a product from.  After all, I can’t afford to buy from every Girl Scout at school as much as I would probably like to.

I text my husband to ask him what kind he wants and of course, he wants two types that I really don’t care for and I want two types he really doesn’t care for, so $16.00 later, I have ordered four boxes of cookies.  I very seldom buy any cookies during the year – if I did, I would be eating a row of Oreos every day.  So instead, I wait until Girl Scout cookies  come out so I can eat half a sleeve every day instead.  Should I even admit that? My son likes my shortbread cookies, and he’s welcome to them if he gets to them before I do.  You snooze you lose I suppose.

Then, they hit you with the second barrage.  After buying from my usual supplier, now I run into more Girl Scouts at the local grocery store.  Yes I know, I already have four boxes, but they come running up to you, their eyes looking at you with such assuredness that you will buy a box or more from them,  knowing in their little hearts that they’ve got yet another addict standing in front of them.  On top of that, there’s something about being a teacher that makes me love watching young girls being assertive, taking an order, and figuring out how much it is and how much change they should give me.  They’re learning how to be outgoing and independent, something I was never good at and something I want so badly for the girls I teach.  It totally justifies me buying one or two more boxes, right?

As we walked through the grocery store last night stocking up for this week, we asked each other about getting something for a goodie.  Then we remembered, we have Girl Scout Cookies!  Before bed he’s dunking his Caramel Delites into his glass of milk and I’m eating some thin mints with my Diet Coke.   Yes, Diet Coke goes with everything.  Anyway, mint is my kryptonite, everything from peppermint and mint chocolate chip ice cream to mint candies and mint chocolate creme brûlée.  So obviously Thin Mints are a must on the Girl Scout cookie list.  If I weren’t such a mint junkie to begin with I would say there’s been something added to make them addictive.  Like sugar or something….

I’m telling you, it’s genius. And I suppose it’s not SO bad – after all it only happens once a year.  Until the Boy Scouts come around selling popcorn, which is totally healthy, right? Not like Thin Mints and Shortbread.

 

 

It was a typical game night, lines of cars moving slowly in every direction trying to get parked before it started, being directed by policemen standing out in the frigid temperatures.  Just as we passed one such policeman, he yelled at the top of his lungs, “doesn’t anybody carpool anymore!?!”  After a short pause, my friend and I laughed out loud, hearing the frustration in his voice, asking a question that most might be thinking in their heads or sharing with a colleague, but never yelling out loud.

Being in a large group of loud people makes it easier to yell or say funny things.  I remember going to a Renaissance fair many years ago with the kids and as we were watching a joisting match, someone yelled a line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail and everyone began yelling the lines that followed.  Perfect strangers laughing at and with each other. You certainly wouldn’t do that at the grocery store or a restaurant.  Unless you’re in Nebraska the night before game day and you just randomly yell “Go Big Red” before you cut into your steak.  If only I were kidding.

But back to this game.  Other spectators at the game are always entertaining.  There’s always the one guy who thinks he knows everything and keeps yelling “just shoot the ball!”, like it’s really just that easy.  And then there were the two lovely ladies behind us, whom I’m convinced were buzzing just a little bit perhaps because EVERYTHING was funny.  “Shoot the ball!!” followed by raucous laughter.  “Hey, the game’s not over yet!” with yet more laughter.  They kept saying things like “those poor boys” or “I can’t believe how many empty seats there are” like concerned mamas.  Cheering loudly for their team but realizing it was a game and not a matter of life or death.  And then more laughter.

I’m not a yeller at a sporting event, except for the occasional involuntary “get him” that may spring from my mouth during a football game, otherwise it’s just sounds and very short words.  “Oh, oh, oh no…” or “go, go, go, go, go!” (always in groups of five for some reason) or “rebound!”.  I’m more of an observer, reacting with some clapping or once in a while standing up for a good play.  I understand the game pretty well but am in no way a commentator except maybe when they make a great basket and I say “nice!”.  I told you, sounds and short words.  No, I’m a multi-tasker, able to watch and absorb what is happening in the game AND talk shop with my sports buddy who kindly accepts my invitations to attend games so I don’t have to go alone.  It’s not like I don’t have other people to ask but I know what to expect at a game with this buddy and it’s comfortable.  Comfortable is a good thing.

After all, this buddy likes burgers and fries like I like burgers and fries and he doesn’t say anything (although he may be thinking it) when I get crumbs all over me from whatever I’m eating.  Oh, and ice cream and M&M’s.  And popcorn. We’re probably not good for each other when it comes to food but again, it’s comfortable and I don’t feel judged.  After all, isn’t going to a game all about eating junk food and getting it all over you because there’s not enough lap in the world to hold all the stuff you want to eat?

Maybe I should consider yelling more at games.  It might be therapeutic.  Good teachers like me don’t yell as misbehaving students during the school day,  so maybe attending a game after school just to yell could be a good thing.  Maybe there could be games where only teachers attended and they could yell to their hearts content.  Or maybe for frostbitten policemen who are frustrated by the lack of carpoolers.