Roll Call

So, I like this concept of "roll call" for the blog. (Although I am afraid I will discover that no one reads it much.)

I think I like it because the answers tend to be funny and clever and make good reading. And "great lines" seem to emerge quite often.

So my questions are,

1. How did you get to my blog? (that seems to be obligatory)
2. Who was your favorite teacher? Why?
3. And who was your least favorite teacher - and why?

You don't have to name them - you can just describe them or give them a pseudonym - after all, maybe they will read this blog.

Which reminds me of a story Dr. Elliot Landau read at a Children's Lit class I took from him at the U - he reads it at the beginning of every education class he teaches (or taught - I don't even know if he is still alive!!) About a young man who comes to visit a former teacher. She is elderly and can't remember him too well and he goes on about the memories he has and they get darker and darker because she was pretty mean and unkind to him - he was apparently a "loser" and everyone treated him that way. Anyway, he either was just out of prison or had just escaped - and as I remember it, he was planning to go harm all these people who had been so unkind to him. And he was starting with her!

The details are pretty foggy but the creepy feeling it gave me has never gone away!

On that cheerful note, I will look forward to your contributions!

"Grow old with me, the best is yet to be."

I don't necessarily feel old. Sometimes I look in a mirror and am a bit surprised to see what I see. (Other times I don't look so bad.) Sometimes I see a photograph that makes me feel like Methuselah. (And sometimes the photo is very flattering.) Sometimes I squat to get things out of a lower cupboard and hear my joints creaking. (And other times I outstrip dawdling middle schoolers and feel fast and furious.)

But then things happen and upon reflection I think, "They see me as old!"

Let me explain. The box boy seems incredulous that I intend to haul my groceries out myself. I realize that I'm older than his grandmother and he's sure I need assistance. People younger than me open doors for me - thinking I'm sure that I need them opened by someone else. Students will stop running in the hall when I shout "Walk!" because I'm someone who looks like she needs to be reckoned with. (translate that: old!!)

This realization has come to me upon reflection. I feel like I've always felt. I used to help old ladies with their groceries - and on occasion still do. I open doors for people who look like they need help - often young mothers with their hands full. And I used to have to yell "Walk!" more than once. But somehow the newest inductees at Clifton see me as ancient - and they aren't sure how I will react, so they err on the side of caution.

This state of affairs is not without its merits. I like only having to yell "Walk!" once. I like getting assistance in markets and post offices. I like being deferred to because I'm older - and maybe even wiser. This has been especially apparent the last few years at my school. As kids who knew me as the parent of Eliza, Hannah or Noah - often the younger siblings of their friends - have left, the new crop only know me as a graying RSP teacher who can bark out commands with the best of them. My status is my age - and showing it! (Which is why I like to walk fast and outstrip them - that always gets their attention!)

I've never been a "young" teacher - I started my career after age 50 for heaven's sake. But I used to feel like I could be the students' mother - now I'm their grandmother - easily! (A student once asked me how old I was. I said, "I'm old enough to be your grandmother." "Oh," he replied, "are you 32?") But a young lady today said, as I was telling her that she really belongs in a regular ed language arts class, "but your class is fun."

So it's apparently not all about age. Thanks goodness!

"To market, to market, to buy a fat pig"

Okay, so maybe you won't be duly impressed, but I sure was! I was trying to get organized today to get things done. One of my "piles" in my office was a stack of coupons and the coupon supplements that come with the Sunday Times. I am always planning to go through them, cut them out, put them in order and go use them to save a bundle.

This doesn't usually happen - but today I was more determined or something. We really didn't need anything at the store, so I decided to go and just get the coupon items that truly were products that we used on a regular basis. I would just "stock up!"

It took me an hour from start to finish. The cart was heavy, and it was tough going up and down the aisles. I ended up discovering that several of the items weren't really a bargain after all. I left a little trail of coupons under the rejected items - and hope some shopper came along and thought it was a little manna from heaven.

But the payoff came at the cash register - $265 worth of groceries cost me $179!!

Not bad for an hour's work.

P.S. I also got lucky. At Pavilions right now, the computer randomly selects shoppers to receive a 10% discount on the total, and I was a lucky random shopper - so $26 of the $86 I saved came from that. But $60 in coupon savings is nothing to sneeze at.

I feel like Mrs. Frugality - with a crown on my head!!

And we're going to be having a lot of soup in the coming weeks - I think half of my coupons were for various kinds of soup. But in our "empty nesting" years, soup and sandwiches has become my meal of choice - and Dad doesn't complain. (I think he makes sure he gets variety at lunch!!)

"But I'm back again" said Nora, with a monumental crash!

I try to "reflect" on my own blog at least weekly. But the holiday season somewhat overwhelmed me. (And I was also caught up in a pretty good book that used up a considerable portion of my time. But a good book is my way of coping with stress, so it was good I had it.)

But after Matt, Eliza and Theo left early Saturday a.m., I walked by the room they had occupied and noticed that the "Shh! Baby Sleeping" sign was still up. I'm not sure if Eliza positioned it thusly because of the Mr. Hitchcock or not, but it was effective.

However, it reminded me that everyone was once again headed home to their own homes. And we really didn't have to be very quiet - our neighbors never hear us even if we are loud on occasion!!

The hardest part for me when everyone comes - or even when we go to someone's to stay - is the way it looks so empty when you pack up to go home.

Once there was chaos - and you sort of wish it could be calm and peaceful again. But when everyone is gone, it's a little too calm and not as peaceful as you thought it might be.

The feeling passes - life goes on - the busyness takes over once more - but it's kind of a little dress rehearsal of "empty nesting" and how it is to be (mostly) just the two of you again. (Noah lives here once again, but he's in the presidential suite and we don't see a lot of him.)

I'm always surprised at the depth of my feelings. I find that if I plunge into cleaning things up and washing sheets and towels and discarding clothes I really won't ever wear again that the hollow, empty feeling goes away.

Until the next trip or visit.