Poor, Poor Pitiful Me

I recently pulled my bikes out of storage to give them a quick assessment. One bike was definitely in need of a great deal of attention. The second only needed some air in the tires and the brake cable put in place.

After pumping up the tires and failing at the brake cable placement, I decided to take it for a quick spin. I figured as long as the back brakes were operational, I was in okay shape. Besides, I didn't plan on going that far.

Of course, I went farther than planned. Leaving my neighborhood is all downhill, so it's easy to go a mile without breaking a sweat. From there, I followed the bike trail along the Potomac River. It was a gorgeous Sunday, the kind of August Sunday that is rare in the DC area —low humidity, a gentle breeze, and big blue skies. I knew better than to go all the way to Old Town Alexandria, but figured I could head over to the marina, take a break to watch the planes land at DCA, and head back home.

The ride back was a little more taxing. My backside was not happy- it hadn't felt a bike seat in over a year. And then there was the hill back up through my neighborhood. The one that was so easy on the way out was not so easy on the way in. I've ridden up that hill enough times to know that slow and steady is the only way to attack it.

Slow and steady, I went. And then, from out of nowhere, I heard the whirr of an e-bike pass me by. I caught the eye of a walker coming down the sidewalk. She smiled and mouthed a little encouragement.

"He's cheating," I laughed. 

I dug my feet into the pedals and kept pumping my legs —slow and steady — with Linda Ronstadt singing "Poor, Poor Pitiful Me" in my ear. Linda always helps me up that hill.

Occupation: Retired

When I officially filed my paperwork to retire after 32 years of teaching, I got a lot of comments and questions about how excited I must be. Excited? I can't say that was the emotion I was feeling last spring. Mostly, I was exhausted. My final teaching year was hectic and challenging. I consider it one of the top three most difficult years of my career.

I smiled when questions about my excitement level were asked. Eventually, I settled on a more honest response: "I'm excited for summer vacation."

On June 20th, I packed up the last of my things, said goodbye to my principal, and walked out into the heat of the June day.

The summer went by in a blink- one that wasn't so much relaxing as it was busy with family care and a lot of driving between my house in Alexandria and my 90-year-old mother's house 85 miles north. The rest I was looking for didn't exactly come...until right now.

I was up early this morning for an appointment of my own. Traveling back home around 8:30, I noted group after group of youngsters, all looking a little sleepy, as they walked, biked, and scootered their way to nearby elementary schools. Parents, when in close proximity, carried mugs of coffee and smiled broadly as they ensured the safety of their own child.

I have a few tasks on my list today, the first being to complete a juror questionnaire. It was the occupation question that stopped me. After years and years (and years) of having an occupation to write down, I stopped before finally filling in the agreed-upon term for pensioner/relaxation specialist. How do I feel about that? I'm excited and content (for now). 

Good Afternoon, Baltimore

The Baltimore Orioles played their first home game of the season today. There were many years that I made the journey from my residence in the DC area for the opening day game. Even though I have lived in the DC area for almost 40 years, I'm always a Baltimore girl at heart.

I drove right past Camden Yards this afternoon after taking my mom to a doctor's appointment. Even if I couldn't make it to the game, it was nice to be in the area. Everywhere I turned Oriole pride was on full display. The nursing staff all had their orange on today, as did my sister and niece when they headed to their respective schools for a day of teaching.

I listened to the game on the radio as I drove back to DC this afternoon. I turned it on when I got home as well, but I made sure to put on my new Orioles shirt, too.

Today's score? Orioles- 8, Red Sox- 5

Memories

 

Finding my way to my own classroom in Arlington wasn’t the easiest thing in the world.  For some reason, I was good enough to student-teach in Arlington.  I was good enough to work as a long-term substitute in Arlington.  Arlington Public Schools even thought I was good enough to teach summer school.  But over and over, I wasn’t good enough to get the classroom job I wanted.

 

Finally, in August of 1993, someone said yes.

 

Yes, came over the phone after I nervously called from the lobby of a hotel in Scranton, PA.  A week before, my best friend’s father had died.  In that week, I had sat by the side of a grieving friend and, apparently, finally said the right thing in an interview.  Talk about some highs and lows.

Thirty-two years later, I’m thankful for my persistence.

 

I’m thankful that my introverted self kept trying to land that job all while facing numerous speed bumps along the way.

 

“The squeaky wheel gets the grease, Mary.”

 

That’s what my extroverted friend, Betsy, told me.   So, squeak I did.  I stopped waiting for personnel to call me with jobs to interview for.  I broke the stated rules and started calling schools myself.

 

Whaddya know- it worked.  After being told over and over that I didn’t have enough experience teaching a diverse population, I landed a job teaching 27 challenging 5th graders in a very undiverse elementary school. (Along with their distrust of a first-year teacher and involved parents.)

I made it through year one with a few bumps, tears, and puke stains on my shoes, but I survived.  And I grew as a teacher.  I learned quickly that the classroom I was managing was in no way like the classroom I had sat in as a student.  All those youthful pretend games of school didn’t prepare me for the real thing.  My degree only prepared me for the curriculum.  I'd have to figure out how to manage students, parents, and colleagues on my own.

 

Fortunately, I wasn’t completely on my own.  I was gifted with the best co-teacher and educational mentor one could ask for.  Catherine Reising-Jones listened to my ideas, worked with me through my frustrations, and taught me more about working with 5th graders than I’d ever learn in a classroom.  We weren’t quite equals when we started out together- her years of experience in the classroom and mentoring spirit were the lift I needed during year one.  Catherine taught me to appreciate a great working relationship among colleagues.  Kids come and go, but the work the adults of the school do together is what creates a safe learning environment.

 

Oh, and the kids.  Yeah, I’ve learned a helluva lot from them as well.

I’ve learned...

 

1. If a kid says he’s going to throw up, believe him and get out of the way, quickly.

2. Raising my volume does not lower the volume of the class.

3. Boys are more likely to cry in school than girls.

4. The best-planned lessons don’t always work out like they should- abandon them as needed. (Quickly!)

5. Kids who do ridiculous things and then tell you they don’t know why they did it aren’t kidding.  They really don’t know.

6. Kids and parents say unkind things.  Try your best not to take it personally.  (Sometimes that’s hard.)

...and so much more.

All in all, the last thirty-two years have been fun.  Some days are more fun than others, but fortunately, when I look back, the first memories that come to my mind involve smiles, laughter, and fun.

It’s hard to ask for more out of something called work.

 

 

Damn This Traffic Jam

I ran out for a quick errand earlier this afternoon. Everywhere I turned, I ran into traffic, much more traffic than I'm used to on a Saturday.

Heading home, I considered taking a local commuter highway to speed up the return trip. I bailed when I saw what looked like a parking lot of cars on 66.

I meandered through the back streets of Arlington, which I know so well, and was treated to the pinks, reds, and yellows of spring in full bloom.

Eventually, I merged onto 395 South toward the Shirlington exit that takes me home. Cars in the northbound lane into DC were practically stopped, just like they were on 66 East before.  

It's such a beautiful day, where in the heck is everyone going, I thought.      

And then I remembered. 

The Cherry Blossoms are in peak bloom. 

I can't even imagine where all the cars that seem to be heading into DC will park. However, I'm sure it will be a fantastic sight for those who have the patience and the luck of finding a place to park.

Ghost in the Machine

It was about six months after I had a new ceiling fan installed that the problems began. 

I woke up on a Saturday morning earlier than needed because the light was on over my bed. I fumbled around for the remote and turned it off, all while wondering how it got turned on.

My sister stayed with me that weekend, so when I went downstairs, I asked, "Did you turn on my light to wake me up?"    

I didn't think that was the case, and it wasn't.

Months went by, and I often switched off a fan or light that I had never turned on.

Eventually, I realized someone else in my condo complex must have the same fan with a remote set on the same radio frequency (RF) setting.

I asked my neighbors, "Did you have a new fan installed recently?"

Everyone said no.

Then, one Friday evening, I was out front talking with my new neighbor, Beth. She was telling me all about the strange behavior of the overhead fan in her bedroom.

"It just turns on," she said, "I don't understand it."

I smiled, "I know exactly what the problem is!"

I schooled her on the subject of radio frequencies and factory settings. The fix would be easy- just change the RF setting on the fan and the remote.

Actually, that part isn't that easy. It involves dropping the fan, pulling out the RF box, and making the adjustment. I mean it's easy for an electrician, not as easy for me.

Today, I had an electrician install a new AC unit. Brian is a friendly guy, who shows up when he says he will and cleans up any mess he makes.

He's so friendly that he dropped the fan and changed the RF for free.

Did you know there's actually a National Brian Day?

Officially, it's on March 6, but it seems like today is a great day to celebrate too.

Some Sort of Itis

The medical assistant led me into exam room 1 and said, "I'm just going to get some information from you before the doctor comes in."

I knew the drill. I've been a frequent flyer at the orthopedic office for many years. 

"So, it's your wrist? What do you think it is?"

I let out a little laugh, "Well, I'm going to say it's some kind of 'itis'- tendonitis or arthritis."

My favorite doctor came in a little later and moved my hand and wrist in all kinds of directions. He then sent me off to the x-ray room to get "some film."

The results came back quickly and the doctor returned to go over the X-rays with me.

"Yup, it looks like Arthur got you. As you predicted, it's arthritis."

Apparently, arthritis runs in my family because it seems like ever since I turned 50 that diagnosis comes up often.

Doctor M. prescribed some anti-inflammatories, injected some cortisone in the joint to calm it down, and sent me on my way.

"As always, thank you," I smiled,  "Hopefully, you won't see me again too soon."