Nothing Says Classy Like Perfume From a Stall

What a weekend! From Friday through Sunday I had something exciting to do, including occupying a restroom that featured one of the oddest contraptions I've ever seen:

I suppose if you're on a date and realize you forgot to swipe yourself with deodarent, such machines are a woman's best friend. Or maybe you could just keep a trial size of Secret in your purse? Whatever.

Anyway, exciting weekend. On Friday I took the day off and observed the highs and lows of kindergarten life in Samantha's classroom. I played sight words bingo, watched Alice in Wonderland, and sat at a desk no higher than my kneecaps. Children laughed and cried, Samantha laughed and yelled, and I was wishing I'd brought a notebook so that I could record all of the priceless gems thrown around and share them with the rest of you. But I didn't, so I can't, although I do remember the song the school counselor (an 80-year-old nun with an English accent and no understanding of childhood development) taught the kiddies as part of her weekly feelings lesson.

(To be sung to the tune of London Bridge Is Falling Down)

I am precious, so are you
So are you
So are you
I am precious, so are you
We're all precious

Since then, I've seriously been toying around with the idea of teaching. It's always been intriguing, but I've never thought I was a good enough public speaker, smart enough adult, or patient enough person to handle it. Has any of that changed? No. But I'm definitely more willing to learn. And if I continued to work for my current college, I could move through their "Transition to Teaching" program for free. Of course I'm getting all of these ideas two and a half months before I graduate with what could have been my final degree. Maybe I'm just afraid to be away from school? Or maybe I'm sick of dealing with pointless meetings and grown-up politics and want to read picture books aloud to five-year-olds all the livelong day. We'll see. In the meantime, I've just finished up my winter class and have a few weeks of "recess" until April, when my Saturday editing class in Naperville starts. I may spend that whole time doing laundry, as the pile is almost taller than me.

Anyway, exciting weekend. Saturday I marched in Chicago's St. Patrick's Day Parade (I'll save those pictures for this Thursday) and Sunday Luke and I visited his brother's family in Indianapolis, home to his new niece, who is so adorable she brings tears to my eyes and baby pangs to my heart and makes me want to abandon the idea of higher education altogether and make babies for the rest of my life. She's THAT CUTE.

Comments

[Anonymous]

Be a famous writer; read picture books to five-year-olds; make babies. Those are all wonderful goals. Frema will probably do all of these things and more.

Today, March 15th, The Ides of March, is the day that sabbactical requests are due to the superintendent in Merrillville. I am always a little sad each year as I let this day come and go without asking for a sabbactical leave so that I could get ready to read picture picture books to five-year-olds. Oh well, I have a lovely grandchild to read to for many years to come.
Molly

[Anonymous]

That was a contraption. I think that should be the next rube goldberg objective. Spray Cologne on someone...
tom

[Luke]

Take a key and lock her up,
Lock her up, Lock her up.
Take a key and lock her up,
My fair lady.