At work last week, one of the Attendance clerks was wearing the prettiest blue top you ever did see.
But when I was in the Break room with her, before the school bell rang, she admitted something. The top was brand-new; she bought it at Ross. Brought it home, was cutting the tags off and… what do you suppose she found? A maternity tag!
Here she was so thrilled with how it fit, and come to find out, it was a maternity top!
Warning: This post does not contain the folly typically found therein. Sorry. But non-folly thoughts were in my head and I needed to let them out.
Totally understand if you click away.
(I’ll judge you, but I’ll understand.)
This last week, I came to a startling realization: we White People are a sensitive lot.
Make that damned sensitive. Continue reading “Why Are White People So Sensitive?”
I never wanted to be a teacher.
I loved school, loved reading, loved learning.
But standing in front of a classroom for nine months out of the year? No thank you.
Nevertheless, for 40 minutes last week, I was in charge of a high school World History class. Here’s how it happened… Continue reading “I Was a High School History Teacher for 40 Minutes”
“They dropped Richard,” she said to me, before I could reach my desk.
“Good morning,” I reply, never one to drop good manners. Especially if I can feel superior in the process.
She is one of our teachers, as well as one of our parents. Strangely, I see her most often in her parent role.
Teachers I like. Parents? Hit or miss. Mostly miss.
“Sorry. Good morning. Anyway, they dropped him. We got an email on Friday.”
They being the community college where young lad Richard is dual enrolled as a high school student. She is telling me this because I serve as the High School Dual Coordinator.
My title is not as impressive as you think, and I’m fully aware you’re not impressed. Continue reading “It Was One of Those Mondays”
A few days ago, someone brought a quilt into the office that was made by his great-aunt. She made it in 1939 when she was 15 years old, living in the small town of Ajo, Arizona.
Fifteen years old!
She made it in honor of her high school football team, the Red Raiders.
It’s clearly been well-cared for and the workmanship is excellent, but it was the attention to detail that impressed me the most.
See for yourself: Continue reading “A Fabulous Football Quilt From 1939”
Continue reading “TeacherScape – A Game of Strategy and Broken Dreams”
The backpack plopped on my desk.
I look up and see a student, freshman by the looks of him, with shoulder length brown hair parted in the middle, ringlets of curls around his ears.
“My backpack broke,” he tells me, holding it open to demonstrate. “It’s the zipper.”
I nod, not quite grasping my role in this situation. Was I supposed to repair it? My sewing machine was home. Somewhere. Maybe in the garage. Continue reading “Lady, Can You Spare a Backpack?”
