SOLSC '24 Day Nine: Trying a nonet

With thanks to hmorris' post "I'm sinking", which introduced me to the nonet poetry form.

If you have children, and if you paid attention, you may have been forced to come to terms with your own faults and mannerisms as those little copycats started revealing them to you.  Then they grow older...

They

have grown

from mirrors

of my manners

into truth-tellers

with gentle reminders

of the things I need to do

to be healthy, and to avoid

a legacy of more stuff than love.

I will do my best this spring break to declutter a few more piles for the sake of my children's future, and my own mental and physical health.

SOLSC '24 Day eight: Is it really a Spring Break?

I started the list yesterday at my circ desk.  Eight days of Spring Break to try to get stuff done (I don't count the Sunday before we go back, because it's already designated as the usual prepare-for-the-week day).

Here's my overly-ambitious to-do list:

• Get eight or more hours of sleep each night.
• Clean up and repot the houseplants.
• FINALLY get the Christmas tablecloth off of the table. (Please don't judge.)
• FINALLY mail some belated Christmas gifts.  (Again, no judging...)
• Figure out what plants will survive the brutal afternoon sun in front of our house, since we lost our old, shady oak tree in the February 2023 ice storm.
• Pot those heat-loving plants (and water them often, I'm guessing already).
• Purge a gazillion pieces of clothing.  Okay, maybe a couple dozen.  Four or five?
• Try once again to find the tops of my desk and my vanity...and my bedroom floor by my bed...and that earring I lost two months ago...
• Take a day road trip somewhere, anywhere.  Or spend the night somewhere, if I get antsy.  Does the hotel around the corner count as a day trip?
• Complete some job-related and insurance paperwork.
• Try and get a haircut (LONG overdue, pun intended).
• Keep up with Slicing, of course.

Anyone else in our SOLSC community on Spring Break this coming week?  Do you have a list to complete, or are you taking it easy?

 

SOLSC '24 Day Seven: Seven-a-day habit

The alarm goes off at 425a.  I grumble a bit to myself, then realize that I don't have to think about the day ahead just yet.  I "tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen" (Dolly says it best, doesn't she?), start my coffee, empty the dishwasher, drink some water, and grab my phone for my seven-a-day habit.

First, Wordle.

Then Spelling Bee.

Followed by Connections (by now my coffee is ready),

Letter Boxed,

Tiles,

The Mini,

and finally,

The Crossword.

These seven games on the New York Times app are my favorite workday (and to be honest, weekend) productive procrastination tool.  They're also the main reason I've broken my previous years' long standing pattern of early morning Slicing.  I'm too busy finding words in the games now, instead of finding the right words to write down.

I don't always get to Genius level on the Spelling Bee, and it sometimes takes me additional lunch and after-school sessions to finish The Crossword. But I don't mind; the puzzles are keeping the chores at bay for a few more precious minutes. 

 

SOLSC '24 Day Six: Six by six

 

Custodian did a great job cleaning.

Students enjoy exploring on their own.

Tony Hawk's basic moves impress kids.

Assistant has eagle eyes for misbehavior.

My colleagues ask really smart questions.

Butterflies and june bugs are back.

(And just so you don't have to wonder...)

We had a virtual, districtwide reading trivia battle yesterday, and my team left some popcorn bits on the carpet, which needed to be gone before a parent event this morning.

Our library "lesson" for third through fifth graders this week involves fifteen minutes to click on anything in the TrueFlix database.

We are reading Skater Cielo by Rachel Katstaller (English and Spanish versions!) in kindergarten through second grades.  Quite a few had difficulty envisioning the "flying" part of skateboarding in a pool, so I managed to find a quick YouTube video of Tony Hawk doing just that.

Whenever my back is turned, my assistant is quick to notice who's playing around in the back aisles of the library.

There are changes afoot in state mandates for curriculum. My colleagues brought up the topic and asked questions during our leadership meeting today.

I spent a lovely half-hour on my back porch after school watching red admiral butterflies dance in tandem, pausing every few minutes to bask on our old wooden playscape in the waning sunlight.  In the evening, I was startled by my first june bug sighting of the season outside my kitchen window...already?

Red admiral butterfly basking in the sun

SOLSC '24 Day Five: Unpredictable ways to run out of fifties

The card from my husband was predictably leaning against a vase with a fresh bouquet of flowers, and it was predictably sweet and loving.  My father's card was predictable, too, printed out from his computer with greeting card software, like most of his cards for the past several years.  He always includes a picture on the verso from his archives, usually baby pictures or school photos.  But not this year.

He inserted a photo of my birth announcement--"It's a Girl!" in flowery illustration--with my mother's handwritten details.  My eyes welled with tears at the sight of her graceful swoops and loops written fifty-eight years ago.  How can one predict that which triggers decades-old grief?

*****

I arrive at work to find the library door open and festooned with green door fringe and a "Happy Birthday!" banner.  Inside, there are enough pastries and juice for a quarter of our campus, with a giant green bag that I know contains goodies that have been creatively gathered.  When did she do all of this? (Apparently at 630a!)

*****

"Ms B, I'm here to cover your class...you have a meeting?"

"Ms Margocs, we were just talking about you!  Let's sing her a Happy Birthday, class!" (Second graders erupt in song.) "And oh, they didn't tell you?  I am skipping the meeting--Happy Birthday!"

*****

"Fifth graders, it's time to line up.  Grab your computers and books--las computadoras y tus libros.  Thank you!"

Fifth grader in line:  "And a one, and a two--Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...".  The rest of the group joins in, smiling and laughing with me.

***** 

Parent volunteer/ library substitute sneaks through the green door fringe while I'm wrangling kindergarteners, bearing an 8x8 pan of homemade banana pudding, complete with whipped cream and nilla wafers.  I give her a huge thanks and a hug, then get back to wrangling kindergarteners.

*****

Number fifty-eight has been interesting, uplifting, and unpredictable. Only one more fifty to go; wonder what that one will be like? 

 

SOLSC '24 Day Four: March forth

My parents wasted no time in taking advantage of the new piece of plastic in my wallet, circa 1982.  "You get to take your brother to morning marching band practice now," they said.  One less pre-dawn task for the overworked adults in the house.

My younger brother played percussion, and back in the day, he marched with a xylophone.  Yes, they marched with xylophones back then; these days, those can be found in the "pit".  (More on that, later.)  If the El Paso weather was cooperating, I would sit in the bleachers and finish my calculus homework.  If it wasn't, I waited in the car until the school doors opened and I could escape the cold, picked up some friends, or drove to the convenience store down the street to get a Big Gulp Diet Coke and a Snickers bar.

We were at the smallest high school in the city, and the band had less than 100 members, to my recollection.  I was in choir, with a cheaper instrument and much less coordination involved, except when Mr Shirley insisted on choreographing movement to accompany a song.  I was always worried about falling off the risers, a problem my brother didn't have to worry about on the fifty-yard line during half-time.

Fast forward almost three decades, and I was back to those pre-dawn marching band chauffeur duties once again.  My daughter plays percussion, and did her high school band gig in the pit--the front row of keyboard percussion players, brandishing double mallets on marimbas and xylophones.  No weighty harnesses for her, just pushing her instrument on and off the field, time and again throughout those four football seasons.

A year after our daughter graduated from high school, I was back at band chauffeur duty with her younger brother, French horn in tow.  I'm still amazed at how he played and marched at the same time.  He didn't inherit that trait from the parent who was worried about falling off the choir risers...

So here's to all those band kids and band directors on this March Fourth--National Marching Band Day.  I hope this is a tradition that never dies--though I am more than happy to be done with those early-morning chauffeur duties. 

 

SOLSC '24 Day Three: It's a magic number

 "Three is a magic number
Yes it is, it's a magic number
Somewhere in that ancient mystic trinity
You get three as a magic number

The past and the present and the future
Faith and hope and charity
The heart and the brain and the body
Give you three as a magic number

It takes three legs to make a tripod or to make a table stand
It takes three wheels to make a vehicle called a tricycle
And every triangle has three corners
Every triangle has three sides
No more, no less, you don't have to guess
When it's three, you can see
Its a magic number

A man and a woman had a little baby
Yes, they did
They had three in the family
And that's a magic number"

--from the "Schoolhouse Rock" series, lyrics by Bob Dorough

Last night, my husband and I watched three music shows on our local PBS station:  the induction of Trisha Yearwood to the Austin City Limits Hall of Fame, a Bee Gees documentary, and Part 2 of the concert in honor of the late Freddie Mercury, held in 1992 in Wembley Stadium to raise funds for AIDS research.  We sang along to a lot of songs (I was surprised by what I knew of Yearwood's music, given that I'm not much of a country fan).  We lamented that several of the performers on the last two shows were deceased--all of the brothers Gibb except Barry; Freddie; George Michael; David Bowie; Mick Ronson.

The death of our cultural icons, as well as the passing  of loved ones and our own demise at some point, is part and parcel of this third stage of life that I am coming to terms with in the most mundane of ways; there's nothing magical about decluttering at your adult children's plea of not leaving behind a lot of stuff to go through.  

There is magic in the crone years, though.  The increased appreciation of time and what it can hold, if the universe allows.  The ability to see things more clearly through the lens of experience and cute reading glasses (sorry, I won't be decluttering those anytime soon).  The ability to offer faith and hope to those who are still in their maiden or mother years, that yes, you can find your niche; yes, you'll get to sleep through the night before the kids leave home; yes, you can get to a place where your self-worth and health matter more than others' expectations.

Three is my favorite number, and this stage of life may be my favorite, too, despite the loss involved.  As long as my heart is full, my brain remains curious, and my body holds out, this promises to be the best of times to come.