A Chill in the Air

For weeks I have longed for a barrage of white flakes or even enough chill in the air to be able to see my breath; instead, we have had the warmest February on record.  Today, however, Old Man Winter blew back in to Northern Virginia with morning temperatures in the 20's and us with a parade to attend.

The dancers parade in short performance dresses, with thin leather Irish dance shoes wrapped tightly around their feet.  They toughed out the pre-parade wait, socializing and huddling with their partners until their spot in the parade opened up.  Dancing down the street, their broad smiles and clenched teeth disguised their shivering.

Spectators clung to the sunny side of the street.  Children perched on curbs, covered with blankets while their grown-ups huddled behind them.  Finding no space on the bright side, I crossed to the dark side - and quickly found a lovely space to call home for the duration of the parade.  The military bands opened the parade, the Kena Shriners followed in their glittery Fez caps and tiny orange cars. The Ancient Order of the Hibernians from all over the area marched by followed by fire trucks and Irish Wolfhounds.  Soon, my Irish dancer daughter kicked and twirled by, and vigorous clapping and cheering warmed us all.

Having enjoyed today's St. Patrick's Day Parade, I am home and looking forward to curling up in front of perhaps one of our last winter fires.  I can hear in the next room that my wonderful spouse has built a snap, crackle and popping fire, and I'm headed there to thaw out my toes.

On the Road Again!

I roared out of the parking lot of school somewhat gleefully - the radio wasn't blaring yet, but when I got on the highway I was going to blast it!

I left a little early today (well, I arrived pretty early too) to pick up my oldest for his spring break. "Mom, I couldn't find a ride that worked, most left too early," and he didn't want to miss his last class of the day.  I couldn't fault him, so I volunteered to head down I 95 to pick him up.  Driving South on 95 is always risky - if it is early in the morning you will go against the commuter traffic, but if it is after 1:00 p.m. (not to mention a Friday) you are definitely going to get stuck in the Southbound commuter traffic.

Today, with the radio blasting, I struck out on 95S - at 1:45.  Things moved pretty well through the Springfield Mixing Bowl (for those of you not familiar with Northern Virginia, this is a cobweb of concrete that weaves together multiple major highways, smoothly and gracefully), and I headed toward the Occoquan River with hope in my heart.

Past Quantico the traffic slowed and I reluctantly embraced the congestion caterpillar.  You know how caterpillars pull together and then push their head forward slowly?  That is what the traffic did on I 95 S today.  We would speed up, catch up, then slow down....then speed up, catch up, then slow down.  Truly, we "inch-wormed down the highway."  (Future title of my first country song hit! Can't you hear it?)

The one benefit of the congestion caterpillar is that I'm able to really consider my fellow caterpillars on the road.  I love people watching - and driving down the highway at 25 MPH gives plenty of finger tapping, glancing to the left and right time to explore those people in the cars next to you!  There were two cars, obviously in tandem (NJ licence plates) that must have been moving.  He was driving the Uhaul and pulling a F150 behind.  The truck was loaded (even the cab) with laundry baskets and other containers full of stuff.  He, I noticed had long brown hair and a full beard.  That and the black ear expander helped me surmise that this probably wasn't a military move (the kind I'm most familiar with!)  He was trailed by a station wagon, stuffed to the gills, driven by perhaps the other half of the couple.  We inched by each other, mile after mile.

I surreptitiously glanced at them (at least I hope I was) anticipating some sort of eye contact and a smile, but both were very focused on the road.  The lady occasionally sucking in puffs of what must have been an e-cigarette.  As we got closer to Fredericksburg, I noticed there was a car seat tucked into the second row of the station wagon. A blue blanket tucked around the little being safely riding sidesaddle.

What adventures I dreamt up for this little family as we crept down the highway.  What fun it was to imagine the possibilities in the anonymity of my cocoon.

Luckily, after reaching the university, my oldest was ready - bags of schoolwork and laundry tossed into the trunk - and we turned around to head North on I 95.

A Year of "Lasts"

Cliche' Alert:  It's shocking how fast time flies!  But seriously - my second (and last) child's senior year began in September and at that point June seemed so far away...so many milestones and "lasts" that were yet to come.  She and I smiled at each other, anticipating these exciting events.  The cliche' is true.

Here we are, in March, and the milestones and "lasts" have begun to reflect a real sense of finality. She's enjoyed her last "First Day of School," her last Halloween at home, her last winter recital, and her last semester of school.  She has begun counting down the days until she begins her senior experience - and she's having long discussions with friends about dresses for Senior Prom and whether or not there will be a limo?  dinner?  breakfast afterwards?    

This evening she was notified of one very big "last" that will now be extra special.  Her Irish Dance Coach has let her know that she will get to ride and dance on the float during the DC St. Patrick's Day Parade on March 12th!  For the last nine years she has marched and danced down Constitution Avenue with great joy and pride.  She has also watched the beautiful, talented dancers who get selected to show their Irish dance moves on the back of the official school flatbed truck, and she has hoped to be one of them someday.  Well, she made it.   

This will be the first of the "big" lasts.  I wish I could slow down time.

Learning from our mistakes

We are reaching that time of year during which I have to work hard, like everyone else, to maintain a cool, calm approach to working in a middle school.  I consider myself pretty unflappable, but these weeks of spring - way before spring is supposed to arrive, are causing me to flap more often.  Tension and stress levels are rising, staff's last nerve is being tested by students and time demands, and the plate just keeps getting piled on.

Consequently, when a student tells me he was "just playing around" when he whacked the other guy on the back of the neck, or when another shares that she doesn't think it was dangerous to slide down the banister over a 15 foot drop onto the concrete floor, I'm having to work hard to communicate my thoughts about these actions without screaming ...."WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

And then, I reflect back on a younger (much), less thoughtful me, responding sheepishly, "I don't know," to a frustrated parent. And the absolute certainty at that time that I didn't know why I had done what I did.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that every situation can be a learning experience - and we can and should process our way through the conflict to resolution.

When the young person leaves my office I count the days until the end of the year, and meditate for a minute on my goal:  helping young people accept responsibility for their actions and the consequences of these actions.  It's not always a slam dunk, sadly.  I've had a number of repeat offenders this year; learning from our mistakes is hard work.

Today though, one student had a victory.  Chaos occurred in yesterday's "Mardi Gras" celebration in a French class - one young person responded physically.  Today he and I spoke about the situation and he said, "I've already spoken to the other person involved, and I told him I was sorry, and I asked him to forgive me."  He looked at me from under long bangs, questioning with his eyes if that was the right thing to have done.

"Congratulations," I said - in a stunned and happy response.  "You did a fantastic job."

Cause I'm a Worrier...

I roll over, grab my cellphone and squint my eyes a little to block the bright glow of the device that has become my constant companion.   It's four o'clock in the morning.  Ugh.  I have another hour and a half before the my constant companion rings me out of bed.  Why am I awake now? 

It could be because I'm feeling conflicted about so many things...my "little gray cells" must be really tired of trying to resolve these things while I sleep.  In the dim haze of a rainy morning I worry on: 


Sadness that testing is such a focus of the last month of school for students and staff...
and guilty joyfulness every day when the standardized testing is over and it has gone relatively smoothly.

Feeling purposeful as I prepare teachers to give these tests...
and purposeless as I analyze the data; what do these numbers really say about/for kids? Us?

My ability to make a difference in the lives of students...
my perceived inability to make a difference in the daily lives of students.

Totally anticipating the long, slow days of summer...
while stressing that they will be over-planned, hectic, and gone too quickly.

The sheer number of evaluations I must write before the end of school...
and the length of time it takes to do each one.

The health of  a couple of very important people in my life...
and my lack of ability to help at all.

Turning 50 this summer....FIFTY?
I used to calculate how old I'd be when we started the new millennium (34!) and that seemed ancient.

Children, one back for the summer, life in his hands, me grappling with releasing the reins...
the other ready to launch, me holding on to her reins for dear life trying to slow things down.

These are the things that cause me to wake up in the gray light of dawn. 

I roll over, pull the covers up to my neck, and squeeze my eyes shut.  Just a few more minutes of sleep will help me, I'm sure. 

A Little Alone Time

Missed yesterday's blog opportunity - life was overwhelming - but I'm back at it today.

I'm in a unique position this evening - I'm home alone.  My hubby and two kids (teenagers, really, but I'll always consider them the kids) are at a Nats Game (Go Nats!) and I'm feeling deliciously free to set my own schedule.

Motoring home this afternoon I considered the possibilities of my evening:

• I could work...which will be there tomorrow, for sure
• I could escape into TV programs, that I don't usually have time to watch
• I could visit a family member...which I really need to do
• But...

I pressed the gas pedal a little harder in my anticipation, whipped the car into the parking lot of our local grocery, and bought a frozen dinner and a container of ice cream.  The freedom to choose without considering anyone else's needs, desires, or dislikes made me giddy.  

Unloading my groceries at the house, with only the dog to keep me company, I reveled in my ability to complete the silly tasks that sometimes drag me down.  The trash cans went out to the street, the dishes that were waiting for me got washed quickly, laundry was started.  And, I'm happily cooking my own skillet dinner, anticipating dessert and a glass of wine.   

Sometimes it's nice to set and take care of my own agenda.  

Games of Chance

I have a guilty pleasure...I love to play Monopoly - not the board game that goes on for hours, with corrupted real estate dealings, but the game of chance, like the one our Safeway Supermarket has going on right now.

As soon as the game was advertised I picked up my colorful, paper game board at our local grocery and made my purchases, yielding six game pieces.  I grabbed the six green squares, gleefully, and raced out of the store to take a look at what I got.  After carefully spreading out the board, I opened the game pieces revealing four smaller pieces that can be stuck onto the board in groups (think the colors that tie the properties together.  Eek - how exciting!  I pasted all of my pieces down and marveled at how quickly I was filling up my board; then I headed back to Safeway.

My daughter and I were laughing about how much fun we were having with this game and scheming about getting the winning ticket - perhaps for the vacation home, maybe the college education, when Rebecca said, "Mom, I think my friend Sophia is playing too! What if we shared our extra tickets?" Because by now, we had bags of extra green tickets that we didn't want to throw away, just in case. We worked out a deal with Sophia - any extras, we'd exchange and if we hit the jackpot, we'd split it. And, I headed up to Safeway.  

Flash forward five weeks - my game board is very full now - but for every "property" section, I'm missing one piece that would complete the property and make me a winner...even a five dollar winner.  I'm determined to win something. I know we will win!  I contemplate driving to another state for a larger variety of tickets.  I head up to my Safeway.  Two tickets - no winners.

My hubby went to Safeway yesterday to stock up for the weekend and a special dinner. When I got home, 12 green tickets were waiting for me on the table. They are still there!  All of the sudden I don't want to go through the possibility of not winning, anything; I'm not willing to actually take the chance...until I head up to Safeway for a couple of things, and come home with a few more tickets, and I decide that I might just have a chance.  I'll open them up and...?