Harmony

My school day ends with a class called Directed Studies. Think high school study hall and fill it with restless 13-year-olds watching the clock like Cinderella's footmen. In theory, the students are motivated to check their assignments for the day, put pencil to the paper or fingers to the keyboard and knock out their school obligations before the final bell rings. In reality, another truth unfolds. Let me describe a typical series of events in period nine.

Class starts. Students queue up by my desk. "Can I go to the bathroom?" "I left my assignment in Ms. G's room." "Can I go to the library?" "Can I go to the art room?" "I am supposed to meet my mentor today." "My knee hurts. Can I go to the nurse and get an ice pack?" "I forgot to tell my mom I have a track meet tonight. I need to call home."

With Judge Judy decisiveness, I give the yay or nay to each request. The nays grumble their way back to their seats and join the rest of the class in an attempt to settle down for the required ten-minute quiet reading time. As I scan the crowd for malfeasant activity, I watch Lacey turn her chair discretely toward the boy of her dreams. She starts twirling her hair and making googly eyes, hoping he will reciprocate. Dream boy responds with head nodding and enough attention to keep Lacey from ever turning a page in her book. Meanwhile, Leonard has the volume up too high on his audio book and is scraping his chair on the floor just enough to irritate Doug, who hasn't read a book all year but is only too happy to point out the shortcomings of others.  Across the room, Lester is mouthing some kind of message to his buddy across the table. Giggles ensue and the girls nearby give them withering looks. I stoically focus on my book in an attempt to model appropriate reading behavior, with an occasional teacher glare thrown in for the good of the cause. Finally, the reading time is over and the announcement is made, "You may put away your books and work on other homework."

Immediately, another queue forms at my desk with a litany of questions and requests to leave the room for perceived emergencies. A few students pull out assignments and diligently get busy. Jeffrey, whose desk is right next to mine due to his meds wearing off in the early afternoon, begins roaming the room with no particular destination. Lyla starts cleaning her binder and discovers it is more dramatic when you crumple every single paper that needs to be tossed. Buster turns his computer away from my view and begins the single tap staccato required by on-line gaming.  One by one I quash the rascally behaviors and attempt to help those who need assignment assistance. Finally, the bell rings and the students let out a yip of collective relief.

It is truly no surprise to me that my students are restless, googly-eyed and impish during a study hall at the end of a long day of demands and chair sitting.  The diversity of personalities and behaviors is staggering and yet, somehow, someway they push forth and maintain some sense of decorum. I have witnessed the kindness of many students helping others and the sense of accomplishment gained by completed work. I have watched students from different social classes, nationalities and intelligence levels share space and get to know each other. I have seen students bicker and shortly thereafter, make amends.

Perhaps, a few days in my chair would be good for many adults. Tranquility is not a product of uniformity. It is bred by muddling through differences.

And, who doesn't want to be Judge Judy for a day?

Rich

Wealthy will most likely never be a descriptor used next to my name. I don't know how to play the lottery so jackpots will not be falling into my lap any day soon. I am a teacher so large salaries and bonuses appear on other people's W-2 forms. I forget what day is cheap popcorn day at the nearby convenience store so I end up buying it for full price. And I lose coupons, only to find them after they have expired.

My local grocery store is trying to make this process easier by offering coupon specials that can be loaded electronically onto my rewards card. So far this process has resulted in the following messages:
"This device does not support your transaction."
"The username or password is incorrect."
"Give up. You are old and will not figure this out." (Okay, I made that one up.)

Recently, a lady next to me in the checkout line at the grocery store tried to save me from my ineptness with money-saving deals. Just as my package of strawberries was being scanned by the 12-year-old checker, the lady leaned over and said, "You know if you mention the Hy-Vee Facebook ad, you can get those strawberries for a lot cheaper." At that very moment, I sensed this was going to take an ugly turn. I could see in the checker's eyes that some clarification was needed. I quickly interjected, "That's okay. I don't usually mess with all that Facebook ad stuff." Undaunted, the young lady pulls out her smartphone and starts scrolling and tapping away. The checker intuitively surmises that the bulldog is not going to give up so he says, "Well, you have to show us the ad because it only applies to certain stores." The bulldog, still scrolling away, assures him that it applies to all the stores. The checker tenses up and starts in with a long explanation about the procedure involved with the Facebook ad. The bulldog is still scrolling and tapping away, determined to usurp the checker's knowledge of store protocol.

Meanwhile, an extended line is forming in our queue. It is early morning, there is only one checker, people are in a hurry, the bulldog is sure she is right and I have had it. I turned to the lady and thanked her for her concern over my small package of strawberries. I looked at the checker and said, "I do not need or want the Facebook discount on my fruit. I just want to finish my order and leave so I don't hold up this line." The checker was only too happy to fulfill my request. I grabbed the receipt and made haste out of the store.

I didn't look back, but my guess is the bulldog was still haggling with the checker over my strawberries after I was out the door. The only item in her order was a jumbo container of vanilla latte coffee creamer. Clearly, she was in need of some serious coffee intervention.

And, clearly, I will never be rich. But I did enjoy my strawberries, even without the discount. And the checker gave me another coupon for paper towels...no password, device or bulldog needed.

Liablility

The student at my desk passionately explained, "I just found out in health class that the reason we are all getting so fat is because of the big food companies. Did you know they are purposely putting extra sugar and fat in all the food in the grocery stores?"

The curmudgeon in me raised its snarky head and asked, "Is there someone holding a gun to the heads of the shoppers so they have to buy all that food in the store?"

"Well, no, but it isn't our fault that all the food is full of sugar and fat. They should stop doing that, It is making everyone fat," he replied.

Unable to let his naivety go unchallenged, I countered with, "So, you are telling me that I have no choice but fill my shopping cart with sugary goodies rather than fresh produce and wholesome foods?"

At this point, the student was smart enough to realize that I wasn't going to agree with his new found wisdom. He shook his head and gave me the you-just-do-not-understand-conspiracy-theories look and shuffled to his seat.

In defense of the young man's health teacher, I am sure the lesson on nutrition included a reminder that processed foods often have hidden sugars and fats. In defense of the big food companies, producing food that tastes crappy is probably not a wise business move and sugar and fat tend to make food taste better.

My growing up years did not involve processed food choices so I know it is possible to survive without many of our current food options. My mother baked our bread, raised a large garden, canned fruits and vegetables, raised chickens for eggs and meat. My dad milked the family cow and raised pigs and cows for the dinner table. We all pitched in with picking wild asparagus, plums and mulberries. The fastest food we ate was a fried egg. Drive-thru wasn't in our vernacular in those days and the nearest we got to a ready made treat was a small vanilla ice cream cone from Zesto.

Don't get me wrong, I am no health food guru. I could live on Cheetos and anything with a chippy crunch for the rest of my days. Bacon makes my heart sing and butter makes everything better. But, I claim total responsibility for my choices. Blaming the food companies for a grocery cart full of sugary, fatty goodness is not my style.

It is probably just a matter of time before our television screens tout a class action suit against the big bad wolf of processed foods. "Have you or any of your loved ones ever eaten a Cheese Curl? Did you know this food contains salt and vegetable oil and could cause weight gain if eaten in copious amounts? Please call the following toll free number if you think you have been wronged by Frito Lay. Our operators are standing by."

The famous French Chef, Julia Child, said it best, "A party without cake is just a meeting." She also reminded us to watch portion sizes and choose our food wisely. That probably explains why she lived a full life until the age of 91.

Embrace your freedom to choose. Sometimes it's an apple and sometimes it's a cheese curl. And when your waistband gets cranky with you, remember, you are the one in charge.