I walk into class this morning totally prepared for a different class at another time. Slightly taken aback at first—dummy—I revert to Plan B of Teaching, which in the old days meant going back to the textbook because the technology didn’t work, but which today means checking in with my students because I need a jump-start.
“Have we learned about quotation format yet?” I thunder.
“NO!” they chorus back. I hand out candy and begin the lesson. I hand out markers and soon students are clamoring to write on the board. “Don’t be afraid!” I shout out over the din. “Bad examples are the best examples of all!”
I close up shop five minutes after the hour, rolling around in my chair, asking a boy not to clean my erasers. I will do it myself; I don’t want to be viewed as having favorites. Two hours later I’m on the phone with my brother, talking about jail time and death. It is a real winner of a conversation. We need to work on transitions.
“Did you hear that new song by Glen Campbell?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. "It made me really sad.” He pauses. “Weren’t you in jail when he was?”
“No,” I say, slightly indignant but only to a degree. “I was in when Martha Stewart was in.”
You look back at those days as fast as two seconds can take and remember feeling sorry for Glen Campbell, not as sorry for Martha, but commiseration with both. The only thing on your mind these days is why people write “arrived to” rather than “arrived at”. It is your new mission in life to find out. You would also like to know how your sister is doing and how your dad is doing and what everybody else is thinking.