Just when everything starts slowing down, someone pushes my metaphorical shopping cart down the log flume in a Goonie’s/ Rube Goldberg style apocolyptical mess. I have a major amount of stuff to do and very little time to do it. I am getting plenty of rest and I am trying to keep from stressing out, but when I do, a tiny bit of my internal crazy leaks out leaving a whole of confused faces staring at me.
As I prepare for a fun-filled week of Benchmark testing and parent meetings and oh, maybe I will teach a class or two, a few highlights spring forth. Last week a student didn’t know what a mix-tape was. Several students were trying to explain it and I, who am always looming in the back ground swooped forth and said, “Yeah, a mix-tape is the perfect thing to make for someone you like, like you know and if you don’t really know how to say what you feel, you can spend a long Saturday Afternoon, because what else are you doing anyway, finding the perfect songs to express how you feel, and if you are lucky you own the album or another tape and you cue everything up perfectly. If you are feeling bold and sassy you can borrow your brother’s tape recorder and leave a personal message like, “I heard all of these songs and thought of you, Domingo.” Then you will find the perfect label and write a clever name for your tape, and then you will have to very carefully hand letter the liner notes. Then you give the tape to Domingo and he will promise to listen to it, but more than likely it will shift down to the bottom of his locker or backpack and when he finally plays it on the tape player in his sister’s chrysler it will get stuck on “She talks to Angels” where it will stay until she wedges it out with a butter knife,”
As soon as I finished this impromptu monologue, one of my suddenly silent students said,
“And that’s why she’s the best drama teacher.”