Goodness

When posed with the question, "What do you do for a living?" I, of course, respond, "I am a middle school teacher." Inevitably, the reaction from young and old alike is a cringe followed by, "Eew, how do you do it?" I often reply, "I just teach them. I don't take them home." This usually breaks the ice and the conversation train gets rolling again.

Without a doubt, middle school students can be a strange and curious bunch. One minute a girl is all giggly and hair twirly with her friends and the next minute she is sobbing in the bathroom because she just broke up with the only boy she will ever love. Boys jostle through the halls, making sudden leaps into the air as they prove to each other they can touch the top of door jambs (a conquest, indeed). Two best friends on one day become mortal enemies the next. Clothing choices and hair colorations test the waters of acceptability. Quirky rituals such as finger flapping, bottle flipping and taki eating gain cult followings. (Don't worry if the prior sentence makes no sense. The rituals make even less sense to teachers.) Student sizes range from diminutive to towering. Chatter is about who is going out with whom, who is mad at whom and who is getting back together with whom.

Blessedly, middle school is also filled with moments of sweet kindness. A few weeks ago, I was teaching a riveting lesson on the nitrogen cycle, root nodules and symbiotic bacteria. As I finished my lesson, I noticed Betsy holding a kleenex to the nose of Ella. While the rest of the students finished their written assignment, I asked the girls if anything was wrong. Betsy replied,  "Ella has a bloody nose and I am helping her stop it." I asked Ella if she needed to go to the nurse. "No, I get these a lot. I will be okay." Betsy nodded, "I think she is better now." With that, they both returned to their work.

What struck me about their interaction is that the two girls come from very different worlds. Their skin color is not the same. They travel with different circles of friends. Betsy comes from a stable, comfortable home. Ella comes from a home with many challenges. One is usually calm. The other is often restless. It would not have surprised me if Betsy chose to work on her assignment rather than help Ella. Something as intimate as a bloody nose usually calls for the intervention of a close friend or adult. Betsy chose otherwise.

I often share with parents that I can teach students science but I cannot always teach them kindness. Certainly, we promote helping others and we praise caring actions. But, the heart of a child is profoundly molded by watching others. Betsy's gesture of tenderness sent a bold message to all those around her, including me. I confess that I am beyond weary with the political vitriol of recent months. I needed the actions of two young girls to remind me that there is hope for the future.

Kindness wields the sharpest sword.

Sensible

One of the largest retail centers in our area made a breaking news announcement this past week. The Mall of America is keeping its doors closed on Thanksgiving Day. No more pre-Black Friday sales and no more cars circling the parking lot before the turkey has grown cold on the table. I am not naive enough to believe no retail sales will happen for the Mall on turkey day. Internet enticements will drip into the veins of the hard core bargain addicts, no matter what day it is. What is encouraging, however, is that one retail center decided to take a stand against the madness and allow the majority of its workers a chance to spend time with family, friends or self. Whether they are eating yams, curry or pho, matters not. A break before the oncoming holiday crush is good for the soul.

I understand the need for health care providers and public safety workers to work on holidays. Lives are at stake in their world (thank you for your service, by the way). But, being required to work so someone can purchase a six-pack of soda for half price or an electronic gizmo at near cost is baffling and quite frankly, embarrassing. The word Thanksgiving implies being grateful for the blessings you have been given, not the ones you feel compelled to purchase. Standing in line like vultures taking turns with carrion sends a message of greed and excess.

Full disclosure, I am not a shopper. Thus, I find it easy to support the Mall's decision. I have friends and family, however, who enjoy holiday shopping as a family outing. Not my cup of tea, but not a problem for me, either, as long as the shopping does not force retail workers to work excessive hours. I am also aware that some retailers offer their workers extra pay on holidays. How about this: give everyone a raise for their service every day and assure them that they will get a few holidays off. Workplace contentedness is priceless.

Undoubtedly, I have lost thousands of dollars in retail savings opportunities over the years. It is also a given that I will never have a retail entity reach out to me for help in hawking their wares via my blog (you're welcome). But, I don't think my quality of life has suffered. Yes, I am writing this blog on an aging Chromebook with a big chip gouged out of its side and a cord that needs just the right amount of finesse to stay charging. Yes, the couch I am sitting on is a bit of a sad sack. And, no I don't own a phone that is very smart. Despite my lack of worldly goods, I have been able to keep a job (thank you, co-workers), maintain a family and bake a mean cheesecake.

I can feel the upcoming holidays in my bones and see them in the aisles already. And, obviously, I am getting a bit cranky at the thought.  But, one thing will remain the same. I am staying home for Thanksgiving. And Black Friday. And most days. Sorry in advance to anyone expecting the perfect gift from me. Will a cheesecake do?

Fronts

It has been an unusually wet fall in the upper midwest this year. Blame it on global warming, climate change or God's hand in nature, it matters not much to me. In this part of the country we are accustomed to taking whatever we are dealt.  In fact, I think we take a rather perverse delight in the mercurial swings  of unstable weather patterns. Man vs. nature. Only the creatively strong thrive in such a habitat.

A couple of weeks ago, a storm front parked itself atop our fair city and dumped over four inches of rain on all things living and otherwise. One of our school parking lots is built on low ground next to a retaining pond. My vehicle, along with many others, contentedly stable up in the lot each morning until the final bell rings. That particular day, the rains came down and the floods inched up. Finally, the message went out that all vehicles needed to be moved, stat. The retaining pond was overflowing and a new river was forming.

The reality of teaching is that one cannot leave twenty-eight squirmy middle schoolers unattended or it's Lord of the Flies revisited. Fortunately, my dear colleague ran into my room and covered my class so I could rescue my vehicle. I grabbed a jacket (not rain proof) and waded out to my vehicle. The water rushed up toward my knees as I sloshed to my car door. Thankfully, the water was just below the door's threshold so no water entered the vehicle, other than from my soaked being. I drove up to high ground a block away and hustled back to my classroom through the pouring rain.  As I entered the classroom, I made an attempt to compose myself. Dripping water from my hair, skirt and jacket created a puddle everywhere I stopped. Even my best days are bad hair days so let it be said, I was a sad sight. My colleague dashed out to her vehicle and encountered the same scenario so at least misery had company. My students gave me assessing looks and I stated, "And you thought I couldn't look worse." They nervously giggled and secretly hoped they would never get old and have to run through rainstorms.

The next day, I pulled my vehicle into the same parking lot, in the same low corner, near the same retaining pond. Some part of my brain scolded me for not learning my lesson. That was overridden by the standard midwestern mantra, "It could have been worse." My vehicle was not harmed, my clothes dried out, my jacket dripped out the last of its moisture and my sandals lived to see another day.

Since that storm, several more fronts have ground their way through our area. Some brought warm, muggy gulf air to remind us that summer is not quite through with us. Others brought more rain. And a recent cold front blew in with flying leaves and Oz-like winds. Another reminder that predictability is not usually a word used to describe our region.

Soon enough, I will be toting snow boots and a window scraper as I snug into my parking lot space. I will be quoting another favorite mantra, "Variety is the spice of life."

Let's hope the winter doesn't get too spicy.