Day 54- May 5, 2020

Day 54- May 5, 2020

This morning started with rushing a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (well, a knock off brand version) over to a friend's house.  Her daughter had taken it upon herself to cover the kitchen island top in post-modern red scribbles (method: Crayola Marker on unfinished wood).  She was frantically texting a mom friend group about how to remove it when I offered the eraser, since I know from my own experience (back when E. and R. were still toddlers) that it will take off pretty much any marker you can try on walls and tables.  She was out of them, hence why I was driving over in my bathrobe. It really does take a village to raise kids.

It was good to see her, and we were able to have a very brief conversation before her husband walked by carrying his lap top, on the way to a Zoom meeting.  She excused herself to go handle the marker, and the schooling of her other three kids, so that they weren't tempted to go become memes by popping into their daddy's meeting.

I came home to find out R. had completed writing a song on her computer (her music lesson for the day), and E. had added lyrics.  The melody was catchy, and the lyrics were "Elephants and elephants and elephants and elephants are so-O-O-O-o-o-O-O cuuute.  And Elephants and elephants and... (you get the picture).  E. even kept her stuffed pink elephant nearby as inspiration.  It reminded me of the "Kelly" song Woody sings on Cheers (I'm on the final season now- that show makes me so happy in so many ways).

In other items of importance, Happy Teacher Appreciation Week to all the teachers out there!  Technically, it started yesterday, but I think the profession I entered over a decade ago deserves a shoutout.  Being a teacher is one of the things that defines me- I've always loved to be able to build people up, and teaching allows me to do that.  Over the years, I always made a point to focus on the positives in my students.  I learned early on that "assessments" should be opportunities for students to show off what they had learned. For that reason, I often allowed for choice, because everyone learns differently.  That led to some incredibly memorable projects and writing, and hopefully, an overall experience that led my students to feel more confidence and pride as they moved towards adulthood.

Today, I did something for my education.  After finishing with my typical homeschooling of my own kids and my work for my job as an educator, I spent some quality time focusing on my University of California San Diego classes for my Master's Plus 30.

For non-educators, the way teachers get paid is on a scale that starts at step 1, and goes up each year by a small percentage (and I mean small- some years, you might see a jump of less than $200 PER YEAR after taxes-roughly $10 per paycheck- this barely keeps up with cost of living increases).  However, on that same scale, there are columns that start on the left (the lowest tier- a simple BA), and then goes up as you head to the right (depending on the contract that district has, this could include BA+15 (meaning a BA, plus 15 graduate credits), BA +30 (same but with 30 graduate credits, MA (a Bachelor's and Master's Degree), MA+15, and so on, through PhD. 

I'm near that right hand level in my district, where the max is an MA+30.  I have my Master's in Writing, and then 24 additional graduate credits for my Library Media Specialist certification.  With only six credits to reach my "plus 30", I decided in the fall to register through UCSD's Professional Development Institute.  Last night, I completed one of the courses, and today, I worked through some of the assignments for the second course.  It's tedious, more time spent in front of the computer, but I had my summative evaluation for school last week, and was recommended to keep my job (phew) for 2020-21, so I wanted to get this done so that I could get that pay bump into the next category.  As I mentioned yesterday, still no unemployment money coming in, so at some point, I'm going to need this pay bump big time to pay the bills.

The girls decided to be twins today.  Despite the 17-month age gap, most times we're out in public, someone asks me if they are twins.  They have been hearing "oh my goodness, but you look so alike!" since they were about five and six (when their heights started to match thanks to a serious growth spurt by E.).  Today, they embraced it, and wore matching aqua waffle shirts and blue jeans.  Their hair was in ponytails, and they did look remarkably similar (especially from the back).  They thought this game was hilarious, and proceeded to ask me to take photos in a variety of poses, with the same expressions, and named themselves "Ella and Bella".  I won't lie- it was a little reminiscent of The Shining, and given the social isolation, I'm just glad there's no snowstorms predicted anytime soon.

Their Grammy and Aunt Marian came over for a few hours, and sat in the lawn "social distancing" while the girls amended their cafe to have contactless delivery.  The "cafe" is the area under their swingset house, where in non-quarantine times, they would serve pies made from mud, cookies (rocks), and various other dishes created from sticks, leaves, and whatever else they found in the lawn and woods.  They accept payment in the forms of hugs, moss, leaves, and occasionally, real coins.

While the girls were supervised, I ran over to help out with more painting.  I'm happy to say I got an entire office done, and the light blue color unintentionally matches the tiffany-style light in the middle of the ceiling beautifully.  I was able to briefly stop by a friend's on the way home because she was in her yard, and had a quick conversation about school being canceled, and the woes of unemployment, and how she was doing ("we're all hanging in there!").

In the evening, the girls and Jeff watched the season finale of Clone Wars (apparently, Disney surprised everyone releasing it on May the 4th to celebrate Star Wars Day, instead of waiting for this Friday). While they were downstairs watching on the big screen, I jumped on my computer, because Bryan texted me that he and my mom had somehow snagged a Friday delivery spot for Peapod, and did I need anything?  We're doing pretty well, what with the produce deliveries (seriously, LOVE www.Harvesttohomenj.com), and my creative ordering via Staples, Target, and others, but there are some items, like tofu and frozen vegetarian chik'n-style things, that I can't get anywhere else.  It's the little things that we get excited for these days.  It's like instead of playing the lottery, it's "come on delivery window" and "no whammies, just my stimulus check" and "unemployment...come on, have my numbers...".  Hopefully, we win!

Ramble on rose

The man, mid to late 50's, three piece suit, glasses, executive hairstyle, walked into the darkened auditorium.   He squinted at the ticket in his hand, illuminated for brief bursts by the red and purple light jumping off the stage, and scanned the dancing revelers.  Strains of "Mama Tried" wafted through the air.

One and only rebel child, from a family meek and mild. 

Glancing up, he locked eyes with another man, similar in description, and grinned.  His stride increased as he traversed the floor, walking, shuffling, and finally, galloping the last few feet into a bear hug.  He loosened his tie, removed his jacket, and by the time the strains of "Ramble on Rose" were sashaying through the crowd, he had unbottoned a few buttons, and I swear his hair had grown an inch in its shagginess.

I like to think the man was reliving his youth.  That sometime, long before a nine to five job, paying for his kids' education, and that job-required tie, he was a Dead-Head, waving his arms, spinning in circles, and showering on an as-needed basis.  Throughout the show, I would sneak glances at his row, and watch him swaying with his eyes closed, hopefully picturing some open field concert of his youth and a girl (maybe the one he married) wearing flowers in her hair and giggling.

Such is the transformation at a Dark Star Orchestra show on a Tuesday night in December.

When I was 15, my parents took my little sister to a Grateful Dead show (the final tour before Jerry Garcia's death), and it changed her life trajectery.  She would say later that the freely dancing, smiling, chanting folks around her made her feel a sense of community that was impossible to replicate.   That said, she sure as hell tried, following the band Phish around for the majority of her 20's, selling homemade skirts and dresses, dreadlocking her hair, and sleeping in tents for summer night after summer night.  She now runs an artists' retreat and sustainability farm upstate, something I'm sure the former hippies she met that night would approve of.

Before my kids, I had my own experiences of twirling around, being that girl with the flowers and the long hair.  Woodstock '99, Phish shows, festivals.  I even saw Phil Lesh and Bob Dylan the summer after my dad died, and smiled through my tears as he encored with dad's favorite song, Blowin' In The Wind.

All my choices derived from a desire to experience the 60's and 70's era of music my parents lived through, and introduced me to through their vinyl albums.   Peter Paul and Mary, Dylan, The Dead, Joplin, Hendrix.  Lyrics that said something, melodies you could dissolve into.

Listening to Dark Star, in a college auditorium filled with the faithful apostles of the original Dead, and seeing this  man transform from a middle aged working bee into the carefree butterfly of his youth, I smiled.  The beat goes on, and with your eyes closed, you can enter any era, relive any moment, journey through any song.  There's a beauty to settling down but continuing to ramble.  You just have to know where to look.

Settle down easy, ramble on rose.