And It Begins

The boys and I made a sortie to Newmentia today to put my classroom ship-shape before I report next Monday. A successful mission, it was.

My room was not as disorderly as I had anticipated. Most things were near where they were supposed to be. In years past, I have drawn up a floor plan and taped it to the bare top of my desk. But since I never saw any evidence of such a diagram being given even a cursory glance, I stopped doing so. However, this year I found all of my district possessions within the confines of my classroom! No need to search door-to-door for my rolly chair. No need to track down errant desks. My electronics were hooked up to the tangled web from whence they came. And I had a new laptop. Which I don't really like, being a hater of change, and finding the screen much smaller and the keys not accustomed to my fingers. The only item missing in action was a cordless mouse. I think I'll be able to trap one before the first day.

I need to follow up on my postcard from the optometrist for my yearly check-up. And get a spare pare of glasses to leave at school. Squinting is not quite good enough with this new screen. Lucky for me, I have a wealth of sick days to be used for just such an appointment! I think there's a mammogram in my future as well. Not to mention a flu shot. I shan't be leaving any days on the table when May rolls around.

While I was preparing for the start of a new school year, it appears that children all over Hillmomba are also steeling themselves for the long haul. Practicing their freshness, as we old-timers say. I took the boys by McDonald's as payment for their help. Okay, the #1 son demanded some cash as well. But while they were inside ordering the food, a car pulled up beside me. A car not unlike my very own T-Hoe.

A blond tweenager hopped out, his hair in a buzz cut with the little front thingy spiked up like a cowlick. He leaned his face into my open window. Maybe he didn't actually break the plane, but he was close. In the manner of cool dudes everywhere, he nodded his head at me and said, " 'Sup?" In that drawn-out way kids have these days. I had a flashback to the time that frat boy pulled my crank at Harrah's. A touch of PTSD, perhaps.

Pardon me. But that is overly familiar. It would be different if we had a passing acquaintance. A family or student history. I did not know this kid. He looked pretty shiny clean, and decked out in flashier urban togs than what we see here in Hillmomba. How dare he presume to speak to me in such an insolent manner! I see kids every day pull this act of fancied coolness with the elderly, inciting their peers to snicker behind their hands. In years past, I might have sat there on my ample posterior, dumbfounded, silent as a church mouse, while fuming inside. But not now. Towanda! I've seen Fried Green Tomatoes! I am empowered! So I frowned upon his countenance, a virtual carbon copy of young Anthony Michael Hall in National Lampoon's Vacation. "I don't know. You're kind of weird." There. That young whippersnapper wasn't about to put one over on me. His identical sibling climbed out and looked at me. But kept his distance. And said nothing.

Do not taunt Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. No good will come of it.