Beauty in the day: checked my moon phase app today. Nope. No full moon until Wednesday. Checked it again later in the day to see if it was Wednesday yet. Nope – still Monday. It may be a long week… So lucky it’s Teacher Appreciation Week! (whew!)
Oh yeah – the beauty – right – – –
After school I remembered to ask my boss a question I’ve been trying to remember to ask him, but have continued to forget. – – WHY does Chas put a half-eaten apple core behind his tire each morning? It’s not like he’s parked on a hill or anything….
“Oh THAT,” he said. “Well, after I came to work here, I was eating my apple on the way to work like I’ve always done, but I used to throw the core in the bushes, where deer would come and eat them. But I can’t do that here, because the bushes belong to people’s yards. So the first time, I just laid it next to my tire, and figured I’d take care of it later, when I went home. But after work, I noticed that the apple had been pecked at quite a bit by birds. I started leaving it out there for the birds, but they didn’t really eat it all, and I realized it was just too big an item. So I started putting it behind my tire, so that when I leave after work, I back over it and crush it, and then the birds can easily eat it.”
No – for reals, you guys.
Beauty in the day: Snow Moon, penumbral lunar eclipse, and the New Year’s comet. For some, these things are celestial delights; for some, they are warning signs of possible difficulties. For educators, these things are the events that give allowance for “ah-ha” and “make it work” moments. It’s funny how a tough day can really get stacked up until you discover that there is a full moon. Then it’s, “okay, cool; I’ve got this”, and sleeves are rolled up with a sense of purpose. Full moons bring out all the color and character of the night sky, and it seems to do the same for schools.
It’s a grace-giver.
Who wouldn’t want that?
Beauty in the day: it was a blood day. Not just any blood day, but apparently “blood day”.
Now, normally, on a regular day, a student (could be male, could be female) will come into the office, wailing loudly, all the while drooling, and cry out that they are bleeding, with great drama, as well as some pomp and circumstance. In some rare cases, you can actually see the blood, and in even more rare cases, you are, at least momentarily, alarmed that the injury may be great.
This was not that kind of blood day.
Today I had 8 (more than a half-dozen) visitations from students that had gotten the memo that it was a blood day. Each and every one of them (of varying ages, mind you) who came to visit, walked in calmly, completely dry-eyed, marched up to my desk, and said (more or less), “I have blood.” And they did. Okay, I take that back. One of them said, “I think I have blood,” but then realized that, no, she didn’t.
All of the blood on “blood day” today was minimal, and some of it was even regarded as a positive sign (albeit somewhat painful, when you add the swelling that a very wiggly loose tooth can bring about).
Very soon, perhaps even tomorrow, it will no longer be blood day, and this will most likely mean that the sight of blood (that often requires a magnifying glass) will be the reason for a good, loud, crying fit.
But not today. Because today was Blood Day.
Beauty in the day: my counselor/psychologist/bff was in classrooms having the “safe touch” talk. She started out in the 1st grade class, and by necessity (by design, really), used a few anatomical terms for body parts. One tyke thought to “challenge” her choice of vocabulary, so my friend challenged her right back. “All of our body parts have names,” she explained. She pointed to her nose, and the group was able to properly identify it. She pointed to her knee – again, they were on-target. She pointed to her foot, and the little challenger, who was beginning to enjoy this game, shouted out, “Shoe!” My ever-patient friend, rather than correcting her, agreed with her answer, and then decided to give her another opportunity. She removed her shoe, and pointed again. The little one was now at genius levels, and exclaimed, “Sock!”
Beauty in the day: 45-minute traffic from South Kirkland to North Kirkland. I didn’t hear a single horn.
I did almost get cut off, but the driver was quite elderly, so it didn’t count. ☺️
Beauty in the day: a thousand bandaids for a thousand injuries. Some of them bled, and some of them didn’t. Some of them happened at school, and some of them happened at home – last week – in a dream. For those of you who are unaware of the power of a bandaid, you should probably buy some. They can make the lame walk.
And there was also a coffee cart. In the staff lounge. All morning. And a barista who made the coffee. And a PTSA parent who took orders and delivered.
Coffee and bandaids, people – it’s a beautiful life.
Beauty in the day: God usually shows up in my car. On the way to work. He reminds me of stuff – blessings, mostly. A lot of the time, those blessings are attached to some hard trials. There’s gold to be had, folks. If I cry on the way to work, that’s usually because I found the gold.