Aroma Therapy

Beauty in the day: the AP took a pre-packaged salad from the fridge, and opened near another employee. “That doesn’t smell right,” she told him.
“I’ll chance it – life on the edge, and all,” he replied, accepting her offer of some habanero sauce to add to it.
“Oh – be careful – it’s pretty spicy stuff,” she warned.
“It’s all good,” he told her, “I tend to eat a good bit of spicy stuff.”
“Cool,” she said.
He took the said to his office.
Another employee came into the Main Office, and looked around. “What is that smell?” she asked in a concerned voice. “It smells like GARBAGE!” She sniffed and sniffed. I tried to help, and discovered she was right. There was a “not good” smell in the air. As I walked to the AP’s office, I was able to identify that it was , in fact, his salad. He could hear us talking, and by now had a very worried and nervous look on his face.
“I’ve been eating this salad!” he wailed. He walked into the hall, dressed to go to recess.
He yowled, “I’ve been eating rotten food, I can’t feel my lips, and I’m wearing an ugly yellow vest!” He retrieved the salad and made a beeline for the out-of-doors to properly dispose of it. The smell was really strong by now.
It was at this moment that the principal, unaware of what had just happened, walked in his brisk way into the office, and sort of slowed his gait. The reason was clear when he protested, “It smells like a diaper in here!”
Oh boy.

Green Day

Beauty in the day: He is a new kindergartener. I mean – he’s green. REALLY green. Guest Teacher called for a little help. I went down to check it out, and found the young squire rolling on the dot carpet. The other children were sitting at their tables. “Hi Friend, what’s going on?” I said in a whisper voice, so as not to disturb the studiously working others. He just looked at me with a blank stare, and I asked if he would rather go down to the Office, or join his friends with the learning. “Go to the Office,” he said without much hesitation (“Office” doesn’t mean anything in particular to him yet).
We got there, and I decided we would strategize. “So, Friend, I’ll be you would like it if Mr. Winter (his regular teacher) was really proud of you when he came back tomorrow, wouldn’t you?” He agreed that he would. “I wonder – – what could you do with your Guest Teacher today that would make Mr. Winter proud of you tomorrow?” He gave this some thought, and had an answer.
“I could listen to her.”
“Incredible! What a fantastic idea you just had! This is great! Let’s write this down!” We wrote it down.
“Any more ideas of how we can do something with the Guest teacher that will make Mr. Winter proud of you?”
After some consideration, he had an additional thought: “I could follow her directions.”
I went crazy again, celebrating the genius that was he. About then, the Counselor came to have a chat, and my stint was over.
At the end of the day, the Guest Teacher told me that the rest of the day went “better”, but that he had still had difficulties.
“But you know, when we all went to the front of the school for dismissal, he was the only one who said goodbye to me. “Bye!” he told her, “See you tomorrow!”
Mr. Winter would be proud.

We All Scream for Ice Cream

Beauty in the day: she is an adorable third-grader at Woodridge, and she and her mom were celebrating her little sister’s first day of Preschool (year two!) – – – at the Ice Cream Store (you know the one..). They popped in the door, and I was greeted ever-so-enthusiastically by mom (thanks for that!). Introductions came next (“whoa, NORDSTROM???”), and third-grader shook my hand like a proper, and very-well-brought-up young lady. Preschooler is a bit of an understudy, and ever-so-politely took a moment to be introduced to a stranger (me), which was quite a grown-up feat, when there were 31-derful flavors waiting to be discovered.
I liked this moment in my day, and it reminded me that the last time I met a student-friend by chance at a Baskin Robbins was the time I exchanged special friendliness with a first grade Somerset boy who will forever be that – a first grade boy. I miss him. ❤

Size Matters

Beauty in the day: he’s a newly inducted 1st grader. His teacher came to the office wearing “a look”, and I knew I was going to get a story.

I was right.

She had noticed that he had spent more time than could appropriately be ignored with his hands – well…actually….um…down his pants.

“Hey Friend, I was noticing this, and I’m worried. Is there a problem with your private parts? Is everything okay?”

“No, it’ isn’t.”

Teacher Friend probed further upon hearing this, and queried, “Did something happen, Friend? Did you get hurt?”

“Well, sometimes it gets this big,” he measured for her with his little hands, “but it’s only supposed to be this big,” he demonstrated further.

I mean, it was Tuesday, after all. Sometimes Tuesdays are like that.


Beauty in the day: I went to IKEA. I only needed one thing. Just one. But I grabbed another on my way through. Traveling at the breakneck speed of “like a snail running”, I made my way through the maze that makes up the warehouse-of-a-store, trying my best to ignore the oddly sauna-like atmosphere, as well as the perspiration forming along my hairline. I finally arrived at the corner of “No, the Line is Still About 75 Yards From Here”, and began to feel the elation of knowing that I was nearly out the door. Eventually I got in line; it was the line that serves as a placeholder for people who are trying to help the store look as busy as possible. The checker was of the same type. Yet somehow, miraculously, I found myself almost at the front of the line (behind gentleman who had no merchandise, but had a phone, on which he kept calling his wife and asking, “are you almost here? I’m almost at the front of the line”…then apologized and said she hung up.)

The beauty is that I have emerged in one piece – still alive. I have the unique opportunity to remind myself (again) the reason one does not shop at IKEA on a weekend or holiday.

Now off to Costco…