It’s been a busy week — good and not good. Wednesday, I had half a cup of dog chow left for two dogs who had had about the same the previous day, about 1/16 of their normal intake. Thank God my web site client was in town because he was the only way out of my hole. I told him I needed an advance on the work I was doing, and could I swing by after subbing and pick up a little green.
“Sure. I”ll have it for you at the front counter.”
Whew! I could almost hear the bullet I had just dodged whistle as it passed by my ear.
School was a challenge. I’lll be cryptic about this. High school half a day, three classes: a video for first and third with reading and work sheets in the middle. Typically, my days begin with exemplary students and end with the less thans. It was a reversal Wednesday. I continue to be amazed by the illogic and unpredictability of members of the same human race. The afternoon tore me up inside.
I had prepared some material to discuss with web client when I went to his place to get the dollars, but he had a customer and no time to chat. He did have the dollars, thank God; twice what I had asked for and a real blessing. But I could not shake the tempest continuing to rage in me 40 minutes after school had concluded. I began to understand the ethos of a former girlfriend who taught special ed at Washington Middle. (One day when I was in my early 20s, I was even invited to bring my guitar and play and sing for her class, and I did.) During those short few years Carole told me about teachers who come home from school, take a nap, meet faculty friends for bar hopping until who knows when, and begin the same thing the next day. That’s what keeps them going at school — and they’re the ones with real power in the classroom! And this was in a time when more kids knew to stop at NO and to proceed at YES. Near as I can tell, things went south in the 70s. And here I am sub teaching in 2000 and bleeping seven. I guess it’s all relative. Students should not be judged against the standards of 1968. they should be judged against the standards of 2007 . . . . . . which are as different from 68 as Ipods are from 8-tracks. I decided Wednesday I would not be driven to bars, which are expensive. Besides if you consume as much as you want, you’re a menace to society driving home. I vowed that if my fave Carol Rossi was on sale for less than $10 (for a gallon) I would buy a jug. It’s been on the shelf at more than $11 lately. I started buying and drinking it about 13 years ago when it was $5.97. (It’s the same brand and the same jug my mother used to send me to buy for her when I’d go over for Sunday dinners, but she drank the Chablis. Long story. I’ll spare you.). I know this because Hardee’s 8 piece fried chicken was often on sale at $5.97 Wednesdays, and I’d buy the chicken first, then bop over to Midway for a gallon of Rossi Burgundy for the same price. At Shop ‘ this Wed., it was on sale for $8.97!
I had purchased some decent food at Shop ‘n Save, but all I wanted for dinner were sandwiches. I ate my lunch meat sandwiches and quaffed the Burg and totally enjoyed Ken Burns’ fine series “The War” before retiring early to bed. The sub line called a 9:00 something. Last year I vowed not to drink if there was a chance I’d be called to sub the next day. So I erred, demonstrated my human capacity for imperfection. I had not gone overboard.. It was a sane night. Perceptive readers will recognize the description I’ve just written for you is a beagle puppy, while the truth is I tussled with a grizzly bear. Some truths in this blog must be imputed, rather than revealed in black and white.
And Thurs. I arrived for a day of special ed where my lost love had taught special ed. The day went okay, but it was a heck of a haul. I arrived at 7:30 and was not released for lunch until 1:08! One of the teachers checked in on my about 10:30 and asked if I wanted to grab a drink, but I declined. I was doing okay. At noon, the need to hydrate hit my like a truck, and there was not a human adult in sight in the hall. It would have taken me 45 seconds to walk to the teachers’ lounge and buy a Mountain Dew and return, but no such luck. I would not leave the students. So I waited until 12:30 when I walked my five students to the cafeteria where they bought lunch, and I bought a half pint of white milk, drank it like it was cheap beer and refilled the carton with cool water from a drinking fountain in the hall. Once the day was done with the students, it was a straight shot home and a gradual return to a state of general coolness. I did not touch the wine for the rest of the day and evening. I did have more lunchmeat sandwiches for dinner and the iced tea flowed like . . . . . like iced tea should flow, sweetly and generously.
On Friday, the fog of the past two days has passed over me like rain clouds riding slow wind. I’m feel okay, rather like awakening from the anesthetic after minor abdominal surgery. I have half a day at another middle school ahead of me, and I am absolutely delighted to be going there. This is one of the better schools and close by.
The weather is good, and there is fuel in the old fuel tank. I still haven’t paid my $1,000 real estate tax bill, but today I will celebrate the joys I am given, and the rest will have my full attention when I can share my full attention. In the meantime . . . . . . they won’t be going anywhere.
Live long . . . . . . and proper.
