Half of a conversation today during 3rd grade recess duty:
"Hey, what's your name again?"
...
"Oh yeah, Miss Fisher--hey, I saw you the other night."
...
"You were picking up the tail of your car off the road."
...
"Your car bumper, yeah. I was in my mom's Trailblazer and I saw you. I thought your name was Mrs. Kingfisher, but when I saw you I couldn't remember."
...
Just one more reminder that life is an open book. There is no escape--even if you're downtown, late for Messiah rehearsal, standing on a dark side street waiting for the police to show up, and yes, putting the front bumper over the passengers' side of your never-quite-ghetto-enough car.
My dad had just finished fixing it that afternoon, bless his heart.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Just call me 'Miss...'
I'm starting to think that my first name is actually "Miss." Students are supposed to call me "Miss Elizabeth, but they constantly shorten it to plain old "Miss." Only in most of their languages, it comes out like "Mees." I'm told that in Greek it's the sound they make to call a cat: "Misss-miss-miss". It must be hard for the Greek-speaking teachers to accept this.
Miss, I have an old aunt who has a face very much like you. She even wears glasses!
--a Chinese student
My jaw drops in feigned horror.
Well! Are you trying to tell me something about my face, X?
Chinese student giggles hysterically.
Foreign accents are a beautiful thing, and one of my favorite parts of school is hearing the different languages on the playground. Of course, this means every so often a pesky English word comes up that someone hasn't seen before:
Miss, what are Broosel Sproots?
Two of my students in particular are quite attuned to the presence of beauty. First thing every day they come to compliment me and the other teachers on what we are wearing: "Miss, I like your sweater." "Miss those are pretty earrings." "Miss, you look stylish." I take it as high praise, considering that they both embellish their homework with colorful cursive headings and create the most elaborate illustrations for class projects.
For whatever reason students in the U.S. don't shorten the teachers' name to "Miss." This is the first and probably last time I will ever have this title. I'm getting quite comfortable with it. It will be sad to say 'good-bye' to them in a couple weeks (before our 2-week break) and hear them say "bye Miss!"
Miss, I have an old aunt who has a face very much like you. She even wears glasses!
--a Chinese student
My jaw drops in feigned horror.
Well! Are you trying to tell me something about my face, X?
Chinese student giggles hysterically.
Foreign accents are a beautiful thing, and one of my favorite parts of school is hearing the different languages on the playground. Of course, this means every so often a pesky English word comes up that someone hasn't seen before:
Miss, what are Broosel Sproots?
Two of my students in particular are quite attuned to the presence of beauty. First thing every day they come to compliment me and the other teachers on what we are wearing: "Miss, I like your sweater." "Miss those are pretty earrings." "Miss, you look stylish." I take it as high praise, considering that they both embellish their homework with colorful cursive headings and create the most elaborate illustrations for class projects.
For whatever reason students in the U.S. don't shorten the teachers' name to "Miss." This is the first and probably last time I will ever have this title. I'm getting quite comfortable with it. It will be sad to say 'good-bye' to them in a couple weeks (before our 2-week break) and hear them say "bye Miss!"
Friday, March 25, 2011
Greek Independence Day
Greek Independence was won from the Ottoman Empire after the Greeks declared independence on March 25, 1821. Hence, the importance of March 25. Actually, my street address in Nicosia is Kolokotroni Street, named after a famous genera Kolokotronis who fought in this war of independence... (this street name would probably not be found anywhere in the northern part of Nicosia.)
This is a clip of one school marching in the parade... all the schools marched just exactly like this, in their own style of formal dress. All the high schools have a uniform set aside just for this day of the year.The public Greek schools are just as uniformed as the private international schools (like the English School, the Grammar School, and the American Academy). Only the best students from the school are invited to march. Participating in this parade is considered a great honor. It's even more of an honor to be asked to carry the Greek and Cypriot flags, or the school's banner.
A couple dozen schools marched in this parade. All of them were high schools from the Nicosia district. Aside from the one or two dozen Greek schools and a few private schools, there was one band. The Nicosia football team (Abuel) also made an appearance. I was told that the best marching schools have their way paid to Greece for an even bigger parade.
The main streets were closed down around 10:30; the parade started at 11. People lined the streets three or four deep. The music played through a loudspeaker system. Someone turned up the volume halfway through, which made it impossible to talk or hear anyone speak!
My camera battery died before the American Academy students came past, but they showed with the very best. You'll just have to take my word for it.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Anti-Bullying Week
3 Rules to Prevent Bullying
(author: anonymous 5th grader):
1. The first time a student bullies someone, he should receive a detention.
2. The next time, he should be suspended from school for a day.
3. On the third time, the student will be banished from school forever!
"How did you decide on those rules?" I asked the student.
"Well Miss, someone might bully once; maybe even twice. But he would never do it the third time!"
Another question: "What should you do if your friend is not honest?"
One response:
"Take away their thing and say, 'I will give this back when you can tell the truth.' If they are honest, then give back the thing."
(author: anonymous 5th grader):
1. The first time a student bullies someone, he should receive a detention.
2. The next time, he should be suspended from school for a day.
3. On the third time, the student will be banished from school forever!
"How did you decide on those rules?" I asked the student.
"Well Miss, someone might bully once; maybe even twice. But he would never do it the third time!"
Another question: "What should you do if your friend is not honest?"
One response:
"Take away their thing and say, 'I will give this back when you can tell the truth.' If they are honest, then give back the thing."
Monday, March 14, 2011
How to Read Λευκοσια
A Greek picture-dictionary--street style. |
| Words, words, everywhere... |
 |
| "park kiosk" (the only thing translated by the author without Google Translator...) |
 |
| "An account with so many benefits!" |
 |
| Fortunately for the photographer, much of the Greek is already translated... |
 |
| "City Theater of Nicosia" |
 |
| "Keep the Park... Dumping is punishable by a fine up to 500 pounds or 3 months prison" (not yet updated to Cyprus' new currency...) |
 |
| "Russian Advertisement" |
 | |
| "bookstore" I found more than one... this sign is for a shabby, almost-out-of-business shop on the corner of my street. |
 | |
| "City of Nicosia" |
Friday, March 11, 2011
Your Foreign Correspondent
Dear Reader,
Please consider this your first letter from Cyprus.
First (for all my friends in City House and at Highland), let me inform you that I've found a place where people do things the way I end up doing things anyways...last-minute, relaxed, one step behind the set schedule. I'm staying with a more-than-kind family who has graciously overlooked more than one ignorant blunder in the past 4 days (they try so hard to tell me everything... sigh.). They are loads of fun.
Some initial observations:
Cypriots talk at once; using Greek or sometimes English.
They love football (the non-western-PA-type), but not necessarily Cypriot teams.
They love to eat food. And it's really good food, too.
The natives fry a squeaky, salty cheese and eat it in slabs. It's delicious.
Tonight is the coldest night of the year--a frigid 44 degrees Fahrenheit--and they're walking around in wool winter coats and high boots. I'm sitting in my room in a Gap fleece, thinking that it's been a beautiful day--in the 50's, bright sunlight...
When I said that to a student this afternoon he said, "It's just too cold, Miss."
Well, as a student teacher, I study students, mostly. And this class of students, all around 10 or 11 years old, is precocious, social, eager to impress, and excited to learn. They come into the classroom with an attitude of experience, volunteering wealth of information and stories about any given topic. Some seem to have a strongly ingrained sense of superiority toward teachers as well as other students. I had an encounter with a student who had simply no idea how to complete a math problem. As I explained to her the steps she needed to take, she confidently explained that she knew already what I was going to say. "Can't you see what I've done here?"--she raised an eyebrow and pointed to that incorrect problem.
Students are quick to correct each other. If a student volunteers a wrong answer, ten other students will say "What? No!" and some will supply the response for them.
The students are highly social and love to do things in groups, or in relaxed situations where they are allowed to freely move about and talk. If this set-up is not purposefully created within the classroom, students create it for themselves at any free (or perceived "free") moment. I've never had so many children ask, "Miss, what was that you said?" simply because they were having a whispered laugh with the person next to them in the middle of correcting their papers. On the positive side, they also love to talk to me and Ms. D. When asked a question, they all want to talk all at the same time--and do!
They are unsuccessful listeners, especially in whole-class situations. No one else seems to be saying or thinking of anything valuable enough for them to stay quiet... Everyone's mind is active, thinking their own thoughts, their own responses to the teacher, and sharing those responses all at the same time. The downside: they don't seem to understand or appreciate each other as they could. The upside: they are independent thinkers, bright, intelligent... talking seems to be their way of showing appreciation. Oddly enough.
They are a funny bunch, and I can't wait to learn more from them as I ease into the role of their teacher...
Good night,
Elizabeth
Please consider this your first letter from Cyprus.
First (for all my friends in City House and at Highland), let me inform you that I've found a place where people do things the way I end up doing things anyways...last-minute, relaxed, one step behind the set schedule. I'm staying with a more-than-kind family who has graciously overlooked more than one ignorant blunder in the past 4 days (they try so hard to tell me everything... sigh.). They are loads of fun.
Some initial observations:
Cypriots talk at once; using Greek or sometimes English.
They love football (the non-western-PA-type), but not necessarily Cypriot teams.
They love to eat food. And it's really good food, too.
The natives fry a squeaky, salty cheese and eat it in slabs. It's delicious.
Tonight is the coldest night of the year--a frigid 44 degrees Fahrenheit--and they're walking around in wool winter coats and high boots. I'm sitting in my room in a Gap fleece, thinking that it's been a beautiful day--in the 50's, bright sunlight...
When I said that to a student this afternoon he said, "It's just too cold, Miss."
Well, as a student teacher, I study students, mostly. And this class of students, all around 10 or 11 years old, is precocious, social, eager to impress, and excited to learn. They come into the classroom with an attitude of experience, volunteering wealth of information and stories about any given topic. Some seem to have a strongly ingrained sense of superiority toward teachers as well as other students. I had an encounter with a student who had simply no idea how to complete a math problem. As I explained to her the steps she needed to take, she confidently explained that she knew already what I was going to say. "Can't you see what I've done here?"--she raised an eyebrow and pointed to that incorrect problem.
Students are quick to correct each other. If a student volunteers a wrong answer, ten other students will say "What? No!" and some will supply the response for them.
The students are highly social and love to do things in groups, or in relaxed situations where they are allowed to freely move about and talk. If this set-up is not purposefully created within the classroom, students create it for themselves at any free (or perceived "free") moment. I've never had so many children ask, "Miss, what was that you said?" simply because they were having a whispered laugh with the person next to them in the middle of correcting their papers. On the positive side, they also love to talk to me and Ms. D. When asked a question, they all want to talk all at the same time--and do!
They are unsuccessful listeners, especially in whole-class situations. No one else seems to be saying or thinking of anything valuable enough for them to stay quiet... Everyone's mind is active, thinking their own thoughts, their own responses to the teacher, and sharing those responses all at the same time. The downside: they don't seem to understand or appreciate each other as they could. The upside: they are independent thinkers, bright, intelligent... talking seems to be their way of showing appreciation. Oddly enough.
They are a funny bunch, and I can't wait to learn more from them as I ease into the role of their teacher...
Good night,
Elizabeth
Sunday, February 6, 2011
why don't you just ask?
Well, it's Sunday afternoon and I'm lying on my bed surrounded by bedding and a pile of clean laundry. My desk is littered with debris that will be important come Monday morning... my mind is piled in questions. So this post will be an introverted muddle... my apologies in advance.
This morning over Cheerios and hot tea, I read the story of George Mueller, who depended on God to provide from day to day for the orphans in his care. He kept this prayer journal, to record everything he ever asked God to work out in his life; and along with every prayer he recorded the answer when it came. Most of the time the answer came the same day he prayed. Sometimes (like when his wife and baby died), God allowed a deep suffering.
On Thursday my friend Deb asked for prayer about having to work overtime this weekend. She was extremely discouraged; her boss had added a day shift on to her schedule, between two of her regular night shifts. Basically, she was looking at no sleep for 36 hours.
I saw her at church this morning, bright-eyed and cheery. Apparently, right after she had asked us to pray for her, she went to work. Her boss told her she would get Saturday night off, giving her a chance to sleep before her work marathon today. "God answered my prayer before we ever had a chance to pray about it," she said.
In my own life, I find myself not asking God for things; or if I ask him, I forget to praise him for the way he answers. These days I'm mostly praying about students. But I'm not praying expectantly. I'm praying for something I never actually expect to see--that my students would know Christ, and love him, and grow through the situations they are in right now.
I'm also praying for a lot of "unspoken" requests that I don't even know about.
But in the day-to-day, I trust myself to find what I need. I wake up in the morning and vow to get everything done, without asking God to provide a way. I go to bed every night promising myself that I will get enough sleep, without claiming God's promise to give rest. God can't answer my requests unless I ask him. And when I ask him, I can trust. Trust that he knows and provides a way.
For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.
The sermon today was about Rachel and Leah in Genesis 30-- a passage that makes me laugh (in a heartless sort of way) because it finds the two women in the midst of "baby wars"--each trying to outdo the other by having more children. The jealousy and fighting between these women is childish, but their situation is far from humorous--it's devastating. Both women crave love and fulfillment. Rachel has the love of her husband, but no children. She spites her relationship with her husband by demanding that he provide her with sons. Leah is unloved, but never stops hoping that her children will buy her the love of her husband.
Pastor Ramsey compared us (the church, Christ's bride) with Rachel. Instead of finding Christ's love satisfying and sufficient, we demand more. When we can't demand, we resort to fights and manipulation. But God says to ask for what we desire, and then trust him. He provides everything we need. For God works all things for the good of those who love him....
This morning over Cheerios and hot tea, I read the story of George Mueller, who depended on God to provide from day to day for the orphans in his care. He kept this prayer journal, to record everything he ever asked God to work out in his life; and along with every prayer he recorded the answer when it came. Most of the time the answer came the same day he prayed. Sometimes (like when his wife and baby died), God allowed a deep suffering.
On Thursday my friend Deb asked for prayer about having to work overtime this weekend. She was extremely discouraged; her boss had added a day shift on to her schedule, between two of her regular night shifts. Basically, she was looking at no sleep for 36 hours.
I saw her at church this morning, bright-eyed and cheery. Apparently, right after she had asked us to pray for her, she went to work. Her boss told her she would get Saturday night off, giving her a chance to sleep before her work marathon today. "God answered my prayer before we ever had a chance to pray about it," she said.
In my own life, I find myself not asking God for things; or if I ask him, I forget to praise him for the way he answers. These days I'm mostly praying about students. But I'm not praying expectantly. I'm praying for something I never actually expect to see--that my students would know Christ, and love him, and grow through the situations they are in right now.
I'm also praying for a lot of "unspoken" requests that I don't even know about.
But in the day-to-day, I trust myself to find what I need. I wake up in the morning and vow to get everything done, without asking God to provide a way. I go to bed every night promising myself that I will get enough sleep, without claiming God's promise to give rest. God can't answer my requests unless I ask him. And when I ask him, I can trust. Trust that he knows and provides a way.
For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.
The sermon today was about Rachel and Leah in Genesis 30-- a passage that makes me laugh (in a heartless sort of way) because it finds the two women in the midst of "baby wars"--each trying to outdo the other by having more children. The jealousy and fighting between these women is childish, but their situation is far from humorous--it's devastating. Both women crave love and fulfillment. Rachel has the love of her husband, but no children. She spites her relationship with her husband by demanding that he provide her with sons. Leah is unloved, but never stops hoping that her children will buy her the love of her husband.
Pastor Ramsey compared us (the church, Christ's bride) with Rachel. Instead of finding Christ's love satisfying and sufficient, we demand more. When we can't demand, we resort to fights and manipulation. But God says to ask for what we desire, and then trust him. He provides everything we need. For God works all things for the good of those who love him....
Saturday, January 15, 2011
What you learn the first week:
...about the office:
When you are trying to copy a 60 page document, don't start on the bottom of the stack. The paper comes out face-down, so you *really should start at the top of the stack. If you don't learn this the easy way (by paying attention to what I just said), you will learn this the hard way by reversing the document one. page. at. a. time.
Also, if the copier reports a "Paper Jam", don't believe it. Open and shut the top of the copier and the jam will magically fix itself.
New staplers work just about as well as broken old staplers.
... about IEPS:
In Western PA, the technical IEP jargon involves phrases like "needs fixed" and "needs reviewed".
The diagnosis on the IEP is not always related to the student's difficulty. That LD label could be a ploy. Check for a behavior plan.
...about students:
Beware of storytellers! These students try to draw you in with a lengthy story related to their pets, their moms, their plans for taking over the school, their exploits in the principal's office, and what they do/don't like about EVERYTHING.
When students engage in telling these tales do not believe a word they say.
Furthermore, be highly suspicious of any student who tells you her name is Sheniqua.
Accept gifts (such as erasers, staplers, and other locker paraphernalia) as a token of a student's good will (after all, they did clean out their locker). Don't become attached to these items, because the student will probably ask to have them back on the following day.
Students find that homework is highly overrated. So if you offer to help them finish it, they are not typically thankful for your assistance. They may complain bitterly that you are forcing this torture upon them. Or if they are more relaxed, they will spend the time in the restroom, at their lockers, or attempting to catch you in the Storytelling Ploy (see above).
to be continued...
When you are trying to copy a 60 page document, don't start on the bottom of the stack. The paper comes out face-down, so you *really should start at the top of the stack. If you don't learn this the easy way (by paying attention to what I just said), you will learn this the hard way by reversing the document one. page. at. a. time.
Also, if the copier reports a "Paper Jam", don't believe it. Open and shut the top of the copier and the jam will magically fix itself.
New staplers work just about as well as broken old staplers.
... about IEPS:
In Western PA, the technical IEP jargon involves phrases like "needs fixed" and "needs reviewed".
The diagnosis on the IEP is not always related to the student's difficulty. That LD label could be a ploy. Check for a behavior plan.
...about students:
Beware of storytellers! These students try to draw you in with a lengthy story related to their pets, their moms, their plans for taking over the school, their exploits in the principal's office, and what they do/don't like about EVERYTHING.
When students engage in telling these tales do not believe a word they say.
Furthermore, be highly suspicious of any student who tells you her name is Sheniqua.
Accept gifts (such as erasers, staplers, and other locker paraphernalia) as a token of a student's good will (after all, they did clean out their locker). Don't become attached to these items, because the student will probably ask to have them back on the following day.
Students find that homework is highly overrated. So if you offer to help them finish it, they are not typically thankful for your assistance. They may complain bitterly that you are forcing this torture upon them. Or if they are more relaxed, they will spend the time in the restroom, at their lockers, or attempting to catch you in the Storytelling Ploy (see above).
to be continued...
Monday, January 3, 2011
an excursion
I woke up this morning with a scowl on my face. Emerged from my room groggy, with the crazy notion that there really shouldn't be anyone else in the world at the moment. I could hardly recall what was supposed to happen today. I went to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal, and was hailed by the cheery dishwashers. They remembered my agenda perfectly.
Today was slated for a long-awaited excursion ("The Big Outing") involving my money, Christa, Calvin, (who also happened to be the breakfast dishwashers) and the local resale shop, with the possibility of a trip to Sonic or some other undetermined location. Christa was especially pumped. She took every opportunity to discuss the event with me. I spent most of the morning putting her off.
We hung around until my mom and Ruthie returned from a behind-the-wheel, drivers' test-prep session (i.e., a post-office run). In the meantime, Babs showed up to play for the morning. We watched Anna make chili, played Legos, and socialized pleasantly. She gummed a dried mango slice, turned it to slime while we laughed at her. she announces. Finally, my hair still wet from my shower, Christa clamped her arms around my waist. "Libby, I'm all ready to go!"
I blink dully. "We'll go in a while," I say. "Please just let me brush my teeth and put on some makeup."
"You are fine right now!" Christa protested. "Gross," she added, observing Babs drop a gummed and gnawed mango slice on the carpet.
Finally, the event could be put off no longer. We piled into the Nissan, I turned the radio off. "Don't miss this," I thought. Rarely do I get to experience Christa and Calvin on their own like this, relaxed and having fun. Instead I tend to boss them around in a typical "big sister" fashion. As I pondered this absent-mindedly, they chattered together in the back seat about friends and stuff and nothing in particular. By the time we got to Elite Repeat, I admonished them, "We're not here to buy stuff, unless it's really something that we should get." So I'm still the big sister... it's true...
This was the day after New Years' weekend, and the place was full of bargain-hunters who greedily grabbed all kinds of things off the shelves and piled them behind the front counter so they could continue shopping. By way of contrast, Chris and Calvin and I were remarkably lazy about the whole thing. We spent our time hanging out around the toy shelf--and saw some pretty good stuff: a new horse stable with horses, some hot wheel cars with tracks, a bag full of Beanie Babies with the tags intact (though that doesn't mean anything much anymore). Calvin found some plastic army men; Christa found a bag full of stencils, with odd pencils, a spirograph, and a small box of modeling clay thrown in there (it looked like someone had emptied their child's desk into a big bag). Calvin chilled out by the furniture for a while Christa and I tried on some Old Navy sweaters...no high hopes there. This is resale; it's hard to find stuff that fits right.
We arrived at the check-out counter, Christa with her stencils and Calvin with his army men. I gave them a 20 and told them to go ahead; I wanted to look at earrings for a few minutes. I took the choice opportunity to eavesdrop on their interaction with the clerk.
"Is this separate or together?" the lady asked them.
"Together," said Christa, with emphasis.
Calvin clutched the money and his soldiers nervously. Finally the lady got the soldiers long enough to find a price tag.
"Everything was 50% off," Calvin said brightly. "So mine only cost a dollar."
Christa laid her bag on the counter and waited expectantly.
"That will be 2.53" said the lady. "...out of 20?"
"Woah! We got SO MUCH MONEY!" said Christa, loudly, as the lady handed her 17.47 in change. Then there was the momentary settlement of who got what part of the loot (it looked like a lot more now than it did when it was a $20 bill).
Then it was time for Sonic, where everyone took their pick of fruit slushies. We waited for our order by calculating how much change we would get from the waitress if we paid with a 5.
We stopped on the way home to enjoy the outdoors for a while. The drinks were abandoned as soon as we stepped from the car on to the playground. We climbed the rope spiders' web together. Christa then found these three precious kids on the playground and they played tag together. They ran around until Calvin was red in the face and panting hard.
An hour later, the other kids' mom came by and said it was time to go. Perfect timing. We started for home, smelling like fresh air and sunshine, still finishing our drinks. Back to lunch in the kitchen, and playtime with Babs...
"This is the most fun I ever had!" declared Christa.
"I've had funner outings than this," said Calvin. "Like going to the beach..."
Well, they certainly are entertained easily.
Somehow, in all those moments of happiness, I still forgot to return the love I received. I sat in the drivers' seat, thinking of how precious those moments were. Even though I was there the whole time I still managed to miss it. I looked in the rear view mirror. There were Chris and Calvin, still in their own little world, obliviously chatting about friends and stuff and nothing in particular. Buckled in to their seats, slurping on real fruit slushes ("mine looks like chopped possum" Calvin announced). He made a stretch out the back window to recover the mail and the newspaper. We piled out of the Nissan, home.
Today was slated for a long-awaited excursion ("The Big Outing") involving my money, Christa, Calvin, (who also happened to be the breakfast dishwashers) and the local resale shop, with the possibility of a trip to Sonic or some other undetermined location. Christa was especially pumped. She took every opportunity to discuss the event with me. I spent most of the morning putting her off.
We hung around until my mom and Ruthie returned from a behind-the-wheel, drivers' test-prep session (i.e., a post-office run). In the meantime, Babs showed up to play for the morning. We watched Anna make chili, played Legos, and socialized pleasantly. She gummed a dried mango slice, turned it to slime while we laughed at her. she announces. Finally, my hair still wet from my shower, Christa clamped her arms around my waist. "Libby, I'm all ready to go!"
I blink dully. "We'll go in a while," I say. "Please just let me brush my teeth and put on some makeup."
"You are fine right now!" Christa protested. "Gross," she added, observing Babs drop a gummed and gnawed mango slice on the carpet.
Finally, the event could be put off no longer. We piled into the Nissan, I turned the radio off. "Don't miss this," I thought. Rarely do I get to experience Christa and Calvin on their own like this, relaxed and having fun. Instead I tend to boss them around in a typical "big sister" fashion. As I pondered this absent-mindedly, they chattered together in the back seat about friends and stuff and nothing in particular. By the time we got to Elite Repeat, I admonished them, "We're not here to buy stuff, unless it's really something that we should get." So I'm still the big sister... it's true...
This was the day after New Years' weekend, and the place was full of bargain-hunters who greedily grabbed all kinds of things off the shelves and piled them behind the front counter so they could continue shopping. By way of contrast, Chris and Calvin and I were remarkably lazy about the whole thing. We spent our time hanging out around the toy shelf--and saw some pretty good stuff: a new horse stable with horses, some hot wheel cars with tracks, a bag full of Beanie Babies with the tags intact (though that doesn't mean anything much anymore). Calvin found some plastic army men; Christa found a bag full of stencils, with odd pencils, a spirograph, and a small box of modeling clay thrown in there (it looked like someone had emptied their child's desk into a big bag). Calvin chilled out by the furniture for a while Christa and I tried on some Old Navy sweaters...no high hopes there. This is resale; it's hard to find stuff that fits right.
We arrived at the check-out counter, Christa with her stencils and Calvin with his army men. I gave them a 20 and told them to go ahead; I wanted to look at earrings for a few minutes. I took the choice opportunity to eavesdrop on their interaction with the clerk.
"Is this separate or together?" the lady asked them.
"Together," said Christa, with emphasis.
Calvin clutched the money and his soldiers nervously. Finally the lady got the soldiers long enough to find a price tag.
"Everything was 50% off," Calvin said brightly. "So mine only cost a dollar."
Christa laid her bag on the counter and waited expectantly.
"That will be 2.53" said the lady. "...out of 20?"
"Woah! We got SO MUCH MONEY!" said Christa, loudly, as the lady handed her 17.47 in change. Then there was the momentary settlement of who got what part of the loot (it looked like a lot more now than it did when it was a $20 bill).
Then it was time for Sonic, where everyone took their pick of fruit slushies. We waited for our order by calculating how much change we would get from the waitress if we paid with a 5.
We stopped on the way home to enjoy the outdoors for a while. The drinks were abandoned as soon as we stepped from the car on to the playground. We climbed the rope spiders' web together. Christa then found these three precious kids on the playground and they played tag together. They ran around until Calvin was red in the face and panting hard.
An hour later, the other kids' mom came by and said it was time to go. Perfect timing. We started for home, smelling like fresh air and sunshine, still finishing our drinks. Back to lunch in the kitchen, and playtime with Babs...
"This is the most fun I ever had!" declared Christa.
"I've had funner outings than this," said Calvin. "Like going to the beach..."
Well, they certainly are entertained easily.
Somehow, in all those moments of happiness, I still forgot to return the love I received. I sat in the drivers' seat, thinking of how precious those moments were. Even though I was there the whole time I still managed to miss it. I looked in the rear view mirror. There were Chris and Calvin, still in their own little world, obliviously chatting about friends and stuff and nothing in particular. Buckled in to their seats, slurping on real fruit slushes ("mine looks like chopped possum" Calvin announced). He made a stretch out the back window to recover the mail and the newspaper. We piled out of the Nissan, home.
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