Thankful for Small Things

One of the best things about leaving the house at 6:20 in the a.m. is the scenery. We teacher-types must be at our posts by 7:15. I don't have that long a commute, but do have to make the obligatory Starbux Stop...you know what I mean?

School lets out at 2:10 p.m. My contract bids me stay until 2:45. What with newspaper, plus yearbook & then AP Lang janx, though, I hardly ever get out before 4:30, sometimes 5. Or even later. Three times last week, I arrived back home almost exactly 12 hours after I had left the house that morning.

I know, I'm a public servant. I get the summers off (yeah, right. It takes 2 months to recover from the previous 10). I should be happy I'm employed.

That's why I posted my commute route this morning. I'm thankful for small things. Aren't you?

Mrs. Scribe Reviews: The Crowning Glory of Calla Lilly Ponder

We've got a "two-fer" here today, folks. Yes, a patented Mrs. Scribe Review.

But also the answer to Mama Kat's Prompt #3: What is the joy in your present moment?

Think Southern Gothic. Without the convoluted familial ties of Faulkner nor the dark brooding nature of Flannery O'Connor. Think Fannie Flagg, of Fried Green Tomatoes fame. Or Lee Smith, author of Oral History and Saving Grace.

Or, think Rebecca Wells. The Ya-Ya Sisterhood doesn't appear in Wells' latest novel, but she certainly has some divine secrets to tell

I've always been partial to Ms. Wells' prose. Even though the 2002 flick conjured from her novel The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood almost ruined a good story for me (Note to self: Never watch a movie before reading the book!), I've always been attracted to Wells and the down-home quality of her writing.

In The Crowning Glory of Calla Lilly Ponder, Wells captures the essence of Southern female-hood in a way that evokes both empathy (for we of Southern heritage) and sympathy (for those Yankees who wish they were of Southern heritage) at once; her voluptuous, mystical way with words has kept me happily reading through all four of her novels.

When I pick up a work by Rebecca Wells, I'm treated to the Spanish Moss and searing, down-home humidity of her native Louisiana, but to so much more, as well. The sense of style, and of humor, with which we Southern gals face almost all the bad hands that life sometimes deals us come alive in these 391 pages.

Calla Lilly Ponder is our protagonist. She's also on a mission, both to go to beauty school and to find herself. She leaves her tiny bayou home for the big city, only to discover that she already had what she was missing all along.

A little like Dorothy and the Wizard, minus the tornado and Toto, too. But I find Wells' tale perfectly in line with my way of thinking when Calla enlists a gay couple, a childhood friend masquerading as a Playboy Bunny and a Cajun river pilot, among many others, to help her find her way.

Yes, this is a "quest" novel, but instead of Ulysses and his search for "worth and knowledge," you'll learn a lot about one little ol' gal and in the end, something about yourself, as well.

I left Calla Lilly with a profound sense of regret, and a great appreciation for the bayous and the byways of the Louisiana countryside, as well as for the bustle of the Big Easy, New Orleans.

I also found myself thirsty. For a Pat O'Brien's Hurricane, with an orange slice and a cherry on top. Or just wanting to drink at the fountain of my own Southern heritage.

You pick. And even if you don't hail from below the Mason Dixon Line, Cally Lilly and her kin will welcome you with open arms. Their neighborliness and their knowledge of the human condition are their crowning glory.

Make Way for Ducklings, DC-Style

In my continuing quest to keep my AP Lang cherubs apprised of current events, I've come across these gems, of late:

10. The Washington Capitals, deigned to be the "best" in the National Hockey League, are playing for their professional lives tonite in the first round of the NHL Stanley Cup Playoffs. The Caps might be characterized soon as highly paid losers.

9. The largest sex-discrimination lawsuit ever filed has been brought against Walmart. Plaintiffs claim that the mega-giant discriminated for decades against women in both the compensation & promotion arenas. Walmart execs reportedly determined that management was "men's work."

8. Arizona's new "I'm gonna ask, you're gonna tell" immigration bill was signed into law this week, effectively permitting racial profiling. If a cop doesn't like the looks of you, he can ask to see proof of citizenship.

7. Wall Street behemoth Goldman Sachs apparently has been cheating the American taxpayer for years. Go figure...

6. And speaking of Arizona, the once-proud, uncompromising "Maverick," Senator John McCain, has introduced a bill in the US Senate to legalize semi-automatic weapons in DC. Just in case some bureaucrat wants to go postal, Mr. McCain wants to make it easier for him to obtain a weapon.

5. The tornado that ravaged Yazoo City, MS, last Saturday was on the ground for a record 149 miles, killing 10 people. In other news, the National Weather Service informs us that this Spring has been a "quiet one" for twisters.

4. A homeless man who tried to come to the aid of a woman who was being attacked in Queens was stabbed and left to die on a sidewalk. Video surveillance footage shows at least 7 people walked by the injured Good Samaritan without rendering aid.

3. Closer to home, a homeless man in Fredericksburg, VA, was set on fire as he lay sleeping under a downtown bridge. He's currently residing in a local ICU facility.

2. A new report informs us that close to half of the DC region's 17,000 AIDS patients live in the suburbs.

1. And this just in, from the front page of yesterday's Washington Post: A Smithsonian Institution security officer helped escort a mama duck & her 13 ducklings across busy Independence Avenue near the Capitol. Officer Christopher Camper scooped the babies up into a construction bucket and safely deposited them in their home, a museum pond on the National Mall. The mommy duck apparently raised a ruckus, but all members of La Familia Quack were reported in good condition after the ordeal. And, no, this is decidedly not my Superior Snap. Gerald Martineau of The Post captured this & several other awfully cute images.

Light My Fire

The Superior Snap above comes from Ella Numera Dos' photo archive.

Please visit her at MOO, OK?

Still reveling in the fact that the 2010 Yearbook is history...at least until the rioting starts in about another month.

I wanted to celebrate with the students today during class, so did what any self-respecting adviser would do: I purchased a Carvel ice cream cake and a couple of decorative candles.

Only one small problema with my sweet surprise: Our Humble High School does not allow incendiary devices on the premises, unless in a controlled environment, like a chemistry lab. So, I was planning on festivities, sans fire.

And can you believe it? My journalistas let out a collective "Awwwwwwwwwwwww..." when they saw the cake. Partly because their favorite teacher (that would be moi) had surprised them. Partly because we had nary a match nor a lighter to cause a little combustion.

Proving, however, that I am ever the Resourceful Scribe, I thought for a couple of secs & lit on an idea.

No, I had nothing with which to light the candles, but that didn't rule out one of my cherubs, who happened to be located in a nearby classroom at that very minute

You see, while pot usage has declined nationwide among adolescents, the casual use of Mary Jane (for medicinal purposes, correctamundo?) happens to be soaring at Our Humble High School. So, I decided to test a theory I've had for quite some time.

"Hey, one of you go next door & ask 'C' if she has a lighter, or some matches, OK?"

A couple of sophomores looked at me with one of those, "What is she planning now?" expressions. But a junior (they're older, but not always wiser) took the bait.

"I'll do it...I'll bet she does!"

In 2 shakes of the proverbial lamb's tale, the child was back, concealing some contraband in her left hand. I lit the candles on the cake, they sang a little "Happy Yearbook" song & the Editors made a big production of closing their eyes, making a wish & huffing & puffing in grand birthday style.

Probably broke a few rules yesterday afternoon. But the kids had fun. I returned the illicit lighter to its rightful owner, with a great deal of thanks & a little bit of advice.

"Thanks, sweet pea," I gushed, before putting on my Teacher Face. "But you need to be less-obvious about your recreational pursuits, OK?"

Hey: Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

My 6 Words in today's title are all about being thankful.

Yesterday, Mrs. Scribe & her high school yearbook staff were far from being all wet. In fact, we kept our powder dry & wrapped up production on the 2010 yearbook.

Sorry for the mixed metaphors, but I'm pretty excited. No, we didn't have a "blow out," like the seniors featured here at a recent pep rally & ballon toss~er, splashdown. Instead, I said a silent little prayer to the Yearbook Gods Above as I closed the door to Room 215 & went home to a weekend of grading AP papers.

Oh, and one more reason to be thankful: The school district gave us hard-working teachers back another day, so official dismissal is now June 24. Thank goodness for small things, huh?

"We gonna celebrate & have a good time." Kool & the Gang originally sang that, not I. But you gotta know that Mrs. Scribe concurs, wholeheartedly!

Thunder Rolls

Today's Superior Snap features my nephew, Shark Boy. Y'all who've been around the blogosphere for awhile might remember SB from the Veggie Mom days. I miss ol' Veggie, don't you?

There's a point to this missive, I promise...I mean, besides the purty picture & all. Oh, yes. Your Humble Scribe is approaching that all-so-critical confluence of mid-4th-quarter & reality check, which means both some good and~well, hellllllll, yes~some bad news, too.

First, the good news. Only 7 weeks left with the seniors; until they start exams, that is. They're getting antsy, I'm getting antsy, the whole bunch of us are scratchin' like a warped Bon Jovi LP. Sorry for the '80s allusion, but I was thinking of a few '60s similes, as well, so consider yourself spared.

Secondly, I can see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. We have 4 issues of the school newspaper left (we come out every 2 weeks~I know, what was I thinking?). Plenty of room for a Sexy Soccer Saga & booze-soaked BBQs, but not enough time for my journalistas to get in any real trouble, eh?

Plus, there's the yearbook to focus upon. But I'ma thinkin' about pulling a Scarlett O'Hara on that one. I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy.

Bad News Bears, though, on the AP English front. My cherubs are supposed to know just a little bit about this world we live in in order to pass the AP English Exam (can you say 13 days? Woo-Hoo~I knew I could get some good news out of this!). That being said, most of them know nada. Nunca. Zilch.

It's as if health care, the economy, and even that cute little ol' volcanic vomit over in Iceland never happened. And I ask you, people: How can one scribble a convincing persuasive essay about the state of the world without knowing a tad about this planet that just keeps turning?

Perhaps I should develop a current events app for Facebook. Any thoughts?

Don't Forget to Stop and Smell the Roses...

Mama Kat's Prompt #3: What is the joy in your present moment?

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose
Loveliness extreme.
Extra gaiters,
Loveliness extreme.
Sweetest ice-cream.
Gertrude Stein, Sacred Emily

A Rose is a rose
A Nose is a nose
A Toes is a toes
Betty Comden, Singin' in the Rain

So, don't forget to stop and smell the roses.
Walter Hagen, professional golfer

Like Fallin' Upside Down

Anniversary.

Fits in one Haiku line and

in my heart. Happy.

Life Lessons

Mrs. Scribe:
My favorite class this year is a special topics writing and rhetoric class on sports writing. Last week we read a Michael Lewis piece called “Coach Fitz’s Management Theory.”

It’s somewhat of a personal essay about his high school baseball coach. He opens “A few people, and a few experiences, simply refuse to be trivialized by time. There are teachers with a rare ability to enter a child’s mind; it’s as if their ability to get there at all gives them the right to stay forever.” He continues to tell of his coach, who was so much more than that.

I had to read, analyze and lead a discussion on the piece. In doing so, I thought about whom this person was in my life, and I easily and indisputably concluded it was you.

You gave lessons on writing, layout, ethics and AP style, which have truly been helpful and given me an incredible head start working for the college paper. But the lessons that have resonated more than anything are life lessons — of potential, priorities and perspective.

To be as brief as possible, you knew where my potential was and gave me an earful for anything less. You understood life priorities, which can get so mixed up in high school and as I’ve found in college as well. There were times I’d get worked up, and you’d slap me in the face — metaphorically — and put things back in perspective.

I’m so grateful for these lessons and for the person who taught me them. I know you continue to teach and that all the students who have been in your classroom are lucky.

If you’re interested in the piece, it is lengthy but worth it. Here is the link.

I also sent a copy of this e-mail (without this line) to Principal Man, so the big man knows how wonderful you are.

All the best,
Sports Chick
Class of 2009

Yup, We're All Hokies...for Leslie

If Leslie had been there, we all would have been smiling. Then laughing. Then, all curled up, hugging our sides, rolling in the aisles.

But she couldn't be there. So we cried, instead.

Our Humble High School dedicated its track to Leslie Geraldine Sherman yesterday afternoon, before the assembled student body, the news media & quite a few local dignitaries, including Leslie's parents and her sister.

Leslie, Our Humble High School Class of 2005 & Virginia Tech Class of 2009, never made it to college graduation. She died three years ago in her French classroom, in Room 211 of Norris Hall on the Tech campus.

A lunatic took the lives of 32 Hokies that day, including Leslie. Then he shot himself to death. Six of the victims, plus the gunman, were from the Northern Virginia 'Burbs, an area notable only because of its proximity to DC & because we live there. One victim attended school with my chicas. Then there was Leslie.

An avid runner, who competed with our track team during all 4 years of high school, Leslie had an infectious smile. She trained for marathons & then ran in them; never first, always in the middle of the pack, so happy to be there. She completed DC's Marine Corps Marathon 6 months before she died. Friends from Tech painted gaudy signs that read, "Run, Leslie, Run!"

After that Herculean effort, Leslie was a master of understatement: "I beat Oprah's time!" It was only appropriate that the following April Leslie's parents, Holly & Tony, appeared on Oprah's show; one condemned NBC's screening of the killer's video & other materials. The other praised the network.

Just like her parents, Leslie was full of contradictions. But that's what made her worth knowing...and remembering.

She loved to dance. So she volunteered at a retirement home, where the old guys knew how to cut a rug.

She loved history. We learned yesterday that she showed up at her US History teacher's wedding rehearsal in an historic Old Town Alexandria church. She said experiencing the past was so much more real than reading about battles & treaties & scientific breakthroughs in a musty old book.

But she thought nothing of reading a 600-page tome on Napoleon. "I needed to do that," she once said.

We needed to honor Leslie yesterday. As 2,500+ Spartans & others crammed into the home side of our football stadium, we heard stories, we sang tributes, we pledged to honor our fallen friend. One of my yearbook editors, representing the track team that Leslie so loved, had a difficult time getting thru her speech. She's going to VA Tech in August, where she'll be a member of their Division 1 squad. I'm sure she'll think of Leslie every time she laces up her running shoes.

I think about Leslie every day. So do dozens of others, I'm sure. And I can't think of a more fitting memorial than that.

The Most Beautiful Sand Trap

Welcome to Jockey's Ridge State Park, the largest sand dune on the East Coast. This free-form sandcastle, just a couple of blocks from the beach in Nags Head, NC, fluctuates from 80 to 100 feet tall & covers 420 acres. The park is located a couple of miles down the road from where the Wright Brothers flew their experimental aircraft at the turn of the last century. Today, all kinds of kite flyers & hang-gliders, well, hang out here.

When I want to chill, I go to NC's OBX. When I can't go to The OBX, I like to look at Superior Snaps of the beach & its environs. We've just finished a hectic 3rd quarter; 10 more weeks & counting. I've got Summer on the brain now, big-time.

Our Humble High School plans to close up shop on June 25th. I plan to be on the road to The OBX long before Principal Man says his final goodbyes. A couple of weeks of sand & suntan lotion are in order, don't you think?

Where There's Smoke, There's Fire...

Superior Snap courtesy of my baby, MOO. She conducted this odd "purging" ritual over Spring Break, which involved burning a few items attached to a former relationship. She's got a snap of a similar persuasion posted over at her place. Please visit, if you have a chance!

Men...

On a slightly similar topic, I'm still wrapping up the grading janx for 3rd quarter, but wanted to update y'all on the Sexy Soccer Saga. Yes, there's more.

The lap dances, apparently, were reciprocal. Freshman girls serviced senior boys; freshman boys took care of senior girls. Can you say "gross"?

And one more tidbit...a dozen seniors or so skipped out of school after lunch yesterday. Headed over to one boy's house, where much frivolity ensued. School Cop busted the booze-soaked BBQ during 7th period & now a whole passle of kids is in trouble.

Thing is, Principal Man benched members of the tennis team, among others, for breaking school rules. The soccer kidz, meanwhile, get a pass.

Of course, they're the ones who are supposed to win the District crown, remember?

What's Your Facebook Status?

The following is the totality, to date, of an online convo I've been carrying on, both directly & indirectly, with The Youngest. Others joined in as the dialogue progressed. My big question is, "Does this cat look like a bunny-killer to you?"

Ella Numera Dos: What would you say if I came home with a little bunny???

Ella Numera Una (before The Madre could weigh in): Pepper would eat it. :(

Dos: She actually wouldn't and the bunny would be in a little cage and let out only when one is there to supervise.

Melissa B.: Nillis, Willis...Daddy wants to know if you've ever seen rabbit turds? They (both the turds AND the bunnies) smell pretty bad, too...:(

Una: I also think you give Pepper less credit than she deserves.

Melissa B.: If the cat can catch flies in her claws and pop them in her mouth, just think what she'd do with a bunny rabbit...

Melissa B.: Plus, who's gonna clean up the bunny guts?

Dos: It will all be fine.

Melissa B.: No it won't, if you bring a bunny home, no matter HOW little it is...

Dos: What are you gonna do??? I get yelled at for getting tattoos and I get yelled at for getting a pet...deal.

Melissa B.: (surprised by this sudden change in tone): Not a single persona has yelled at you for getting inked.

Melissa B.: Why are we debating the acquisition of a pet on FB? If you've just acquired the thing, tell me how it smells in a week...

Melissa B. (updating FB status): A single bunny will poop over a billion times throughout its life.

Caitlin (a former student): How does that compare to people?

Melissa B.: Well, if you live to be 85, and you go only once a day, that's 31,025. Bunnies live to be an average 10 years old (Thank you, Google). The math is scary! I think I need to abandon this line of inquiry...

Joann (another former student): Wow...is this a comment on human health? There needs to be a PSA: "Sometimes when I'm irregular, I don't feel like myself. However, there is a solution, and it changed my life. If you're irregular, then be a like a bunny."

Joann (Obviously influenced by NBC's 20-year campaign): Then, "The more you know," with shooting stars appear.

Melissa B.: Remind me to tell you Miss Jo's gerbil story.

Miss Jo: I was wondering when the gerbils that my cat ate in the 8th grade would enter the bunny conversation. Okay, I should have put a rock or something heavy on the shoebox lid to keep prying paws off.

Who knew Facebook could be so entertaining? I really need to get to the bottom (hahahaha! Get it?) of this bunny biz.

Wasted Away Again in Margaritaville

Wanted to share one more snap from our February Snowpocalypse. Shot this from my screened porch just as the snow was starting to stick. If you'll recall, we continued to receive just buckets of snow the next couple of days, and were out 9 school days as a result. Hence, the order from Ye Olde School District that we must park our keisters down at Our Humble High School until June 25th this year.

All I can say is, "Yikes!" I might have to take a Thermos or 2 of margaritas down to work in the waning days of the school year. What say you?

Since today's our Silly Sunday Sweepstakes, y'all know what to do, correctamundo? Take a gander at this Superior Snap. Then, conjure a caption for said snap & tippy-type it, reall quick-like, in the comments section of this post.

And that's all there is to it, Scribe Fans! You'll win nothing tangible, this time around, for all your trials & tribulations. Just the knowledge that you gave a whole herd of us a good giggle. And what could be better than that?

It's Five O'Clock Somewhere, Isn't It?

It's been a super-busy end-o'-the-quarter at Our Humble High School. What with 3rd-quarter exams, mountains of grading to do, the Soccer Scandal & a yearbook deadline, we've seen no rest for the weary 'round here.

That is, of course, except for the Band Nerds. A bunch of them hang out every Friday in the senior parking lot. They huddle up their vehicles, string hammocks between a couple of cars, turn on really, really bad techno music & dance, dance, dance.

I left school at 5 o'clock yesterday afternoon. This posse was just getting cranked up.

Shake It Like a Polaroid Picture

Today's offering originated with Mama Kat's Prompt #6: Who is a bird-brain? Think about all the birds you’ve seen–from songbirds to hunters. Compare one or more people you know to different types of birds in a piece of writing. This is a story about Birds of Prey.

The following post consists of recent correspondence between Mrs. Scribe &Our Humble High School's sainted girls soccer team. They're winners, as you will see from the following e-mails. If all get suspended indefinitely, whose fault would it be~the team members or the student newspaper?

Dear Mrs. Scribe:
My name is Susie Soccer Player and I am a captain of the girls varsity soccer team. I was informed that Newspaper Boy is writing an article about the "lap dances" that happened at a pasta party. The team has already been falsely accused, interrogated, investigated, and found innocent. Although the claims of a misinformed parent were found incorrect, this did not stop the team from being tormented with degrading names and labels. I have talked to Newspaper Boy and he told me it was his job to write the story and he is being graded on it, so I would very much appreciate if you would change his story subject...There has already been enough drama involving the rumors of the pasta party and the questions and name-calling has stopped. I would like to keep it that way. I do understand your class, including Newspaper Boy, has the freedom of speech and press, but I am not looking to take these rights away from you. I am simply asking for respect. I believe Newspaper Boy could produce a well-written, unbiased story about the event, but this article would only be informing even more students, causing a new breakout of questions and name-calling, which would distract and hurt the team as we are now looking to rise above the incident and move forward. I hope you can tell how important this is to me and the team that this article does not run. Please respect us and do not run the article.Thank you for your understanding,

Susie Soccer Player

*Note to Susie: You characterize the so-called lap dances as a "rumor," but also indicate that they "happened at a pasta party." You can't have it both ways, chica!*

Susie:

Thanks for your e-mail. As you probably know, Our Humble High School's Newspaper does not print untruths or rumors, nor do we print material that is considered prurient or salacious (legal terms, meaning what we print should always be in good taste). If anyone on the soccer team was disciplined for breaking the law, or if team members were suspended and/or disciplined for unorthodox behavior, then we would have to reconsider. From what you say in your e-mail, though, sounds pretty much like a "non-story" to me. That being said, I'd have to talk to my staff to see if there are any merits to the claims that have been made.

Mrs. Scribe

*Note to readers: Both the girls & boys soccer squads at Our Humble High School are considered "untouchable" by the adminstration, because they win games. Our girls team has one the district four times in a row. If these chicas were suspended for "salacious" behavior, what would happen to their winning ways?*

Dear Mrs. Scribe:

It has come to my attention that one of your writers is currently writing an article about the girl’s soccer team and the “lap dance” incident that occurred several weeks ago. I am unsure who the writer of this article is. I would like to request that it is NOT published in Our Humble High School's Newspaper. First, the actual events of the evening became distorted once they reached the public. They have been fully investigated by myself, Student Activities Man, Principal Man, and School Cop. We have handled the situation, and it has died down. My team, as a whole and as individuals, has done their best to put it behind them and move forward in a more positive light. We do not need for this to be brought back to the front of peoples minds. Finally, Student Activities Man had a lengthy talk with the team about the situation and how to behave and act in all situations. During this talk, we decided/agreed, at SAM's recommendation, that the issue would no longer be talked about and that we were going to try our best to let it be the past. A story being written about it and published for public consumption would not help, and will actually serve quite the opposite purpose. I feel very strongly that this is not a “storyline” that needs to be shared even further with the entire school. There are plenty of other stories in this school that could be written and give students the chance to shine in a positive way rather than publishing what is negative. There are even stories within our team that are positive and could be shared with the school, because I do not believe that many people know. Please consider this respectful request. It is not being made for myself, but rather for my team and for the girls who are involved on an individual basis. This is not the publicity that anyone needs or wants, and we have done our best to move beyond this unfortunate event. I ask that the writers and editors on your staff do the same thing. Thank you.

Soccer Coach

*Question to Soccer Coach: If your so-called "investigation" turned out to have no merit, why did you call in the School Cop? But wait, our intrepid reporters found out why. Read on...*

Dear Soccer Coach:
Thanks for your e-mail. Susie Soccer Girl wrote me a similar e-mail last night. I’d like to share with you a couple of my thoughts.

First of all, Susie was never clear in her e-mail whether these events actually happened, or if there were just rumors about something like this happening. Your e-mail to me, however, confirms to me that something like this did occur.

I appreciate the fact that you, as a coach, would like to put the episode behind you. I also realize that Our Humble High School's Newspaper would put you in an uncomfortable position if my students published a story.
However, as you can see from the attached response that I sent Susie, I never said that the newspaper would NOT publish an article. I merely outlined the steps my student reporters take for investigating, reporting and then writing any story that appears in our student newspaper. As I told Susie, a “rumor” would never be reported; we try to refrain from “making news,” especially with topics of this type, and finally, if a story that is thoroughly researched and is not deemed “newsworthy,” then no story is printed.

My students are held to the highest ethical standards. Our Humble High School's newspaper is not just a “rumor sheet” that is printed for the enjoyment of the students at this school. My staff takes its responsibilities quite seriously, and I have to say that considering that they are student reporters, they do a remarkable job.

Let me tell you what my reporters have determined so far, and which they told me, after I wrote to Susie last night. I’m sharing this information with you as a professional courtesy:

1. Some kind of lap dancing with the varsity boys team did occur. This has been confirmed by several very reliable sources, including several of your current team members.
2. Soccer team tradition apparently dictates that freshmen girls who make varsity give lap dances to senior varsity boys at a party thrown by both teams. Then freshmen boys must reciprocate by giving lap dances to senior girls.
3. In one case, a 14-year-old girl gave a lap dance to an 18-year-old boy.
4. The incident was part of an initiation, although initiations have been banned at our school for at least 10 years.
5. The girls varsity team received a “talking to,” but no one was disciplined or removed from either team. My reporter was unable to determine if the boys team was lectured, as well.
6. Your former players (graduates) have confirmed that this is not the first time the girls soccer team has been involved in an incident of this type.
7. Young women who played for the team before you took over three seasons ago confirm that this "tradition" dates back at least to 2002.

While I do appreciate the fact that you’d be in a little bit of a pickle if my reporters did write a story, trying to suppress the news, in my opinion, is not the way to go. The newspaper staff takes its duties seriously; my students are responsible journalists, and would never print anything other than the truth. And the truth is not always positive.

My reporters have written dozens of positive stories this year, about your team and about other groups in the school as well. I’m sure you didn’t mean to insinuate that Our Humble High School's Newspaper is only out to cast their fellow Spartans in a negative light, which is certainly never the case.

Thanks so much for letting me know of your concerns.
Mrs. Scribe

*Stay tuned, Scribe fans! My reporters are digging into the seamier side of high school life, even as we speak. But I have a question to ask y'all: Should we ignore this story, thus helping the team to "move on" as the captain and the coach have requested, or should we shake it like a Polaroid Picture?*

Haiku for Big Blue

She turned 100~

K, that is, yesterday as

I left home. Camry.

Mrs. Scribe Reviews: Sounds Like Crazy

Holly Miller hears voices~but, of course, they're all in her head.

That's the premise of Sounds Like Crazy, by Shana Mahaffey. Mahaffey's novel is full of a dark kind of fun, which will keep you reading until the redemptive end.

Holly is basically an anti-social NYU honors grad who's stuck in the most social of careers~diner waitress. In between scribbling orders and fending off conversations with the creepy side of New York City, she engages in a little repartee with a group she calls "The Committee."

"The Committee" consists of 5 distinct personalities who are very close to Holly & exist only in that 3rd dimension inside her head. In other words, Holly is host to multiple personalities, who both help & hinder her in her quest to uncover a few pretty dark secrets she's long ago buried in her subconscious.

Far from being a psychological text on Dissociative Indentity Disorder, or a modern paen to Sally Field's "Sybil" of 1976, Sounds Like Crazy takes the reader on a wild ride thru New York City & within Holly's thought processes, as she embarks on a 2-pronged attack to turning 30~she uses her personalities to launch a wildly popular voiceover career as the star of an animated TV show, while at the same time tackling a sticky self-examination to get to the bottom of her distress.

Sandwiched within almost 400 pages, Mahaffey introduces us to Holly & "The Committee": Seriously overweight Ruffles, who gorges on the chips of the same name; The Boy, who seems to be an alter-ego for another life in another time; The Silent One, who keeps watch over Holly's spiritual side; Sarge, who keeps the trains running on time & Holly's nemesis, Betty Jane, who is so high-maintenance that she pretty much drives Holly, well, crazy. Betty Jane is also the personality at the center of Holly's new show biz career.

Mahaffey's characters, from her heroine (and she really does turn out to be one), Holly, to the BF Peter, to obligatory shrink, Milton, are sharp & sassy. And "The Committee" commands the reader's attention, as well.

Sounds Like Crazy is sometimes cryptic, sometimes cozy and just insightful enough to keep the pages turning until the slightly shocking apex of the story. I have to say that I was a little sad, after finishing the novel, to leave Holly & "The Committee" behind.

Author Shana Mahaffey, as her Web site indicates, is just as eclectic as her characters. Her different take on the human condition is a fun & eye-opening read.

Like a Fish Out of Water...

Meet Enrique. He's the Beta Fish who lives in a bowl in Madison, Wisconsin.

Enrique's been hanging out with Ella Numera Una for going on 2 years now. He almost didn't make it to Mad City, though.

Enrique replaced another Beta, who lived in a recycled rum bottle for a couple of years. Isn't 2 years a long time for a fish like this to hang around? And no, I don't think Enrique's predecessor floated around in an inebriated state. I'm told the bottle had been thoroughly washed out before the fish took up residence.

This parable has a point, I promise. But first I must tell you about Enrique's almost-early demise.

This good-lookin' guy had been swimming around in another college town over the summer. When it was time to move to Mad City, Ella Una's little sister saddled up to make the trip. She put Enrique, in his bowl, on the front passenger seat. He likes to ride shotgun, you see.

Thing about my youngest chica is that she's not too swift at directions. And this day~the day of Enrique's debut on a new stage~was no exception.

As Ella Numera Dos neared town, she whipped out her cell phone to get her bearings. She was distracted~natch~from trying to get directions & drive at the same time. A car tried to cut her off in the intersection. Dos slammed on the brakes. Enrique, bowl & all, somersaulted to the floorboard.

Did I tell you that my youngest is creeped out by fish?

As Enrique gasped for breath, Dos sprang into action. She couldn't show up at her sister's pad with a dead fish, now, could she? Luckily for both, this chica doesn't clean her car out much. There was an empty soda cup lying right there on the floorboard, beside the flailing fish. My kiddo scooped up Enrique and plopped him in the 2 or so inches of water that remained in the bowl.

All these months later, Enrique is the picture of perfect health. Except that he sometimes floats in one position for hours on end. Or swims around on his back. Or floats up to the top of the bowl, only to suddenly divebomb the little tchotchkes decorating the bottom.

Enrique's an odd duck...er, fish.

This fish tale is brought to you by Our Humble High School. I'm headed back there today, after almost 2 weeks off. I imagine I'll feel a little like Enrique. More than slightly out of my element.

Here Comes Peter Cottontail...

First off, Happy Easter, y'all! I snagged this shot Friday while playing tourist down at DC's Tidal Basin. This here's Babalu the Beagle. Don't know how he resembles Ricky Ricardo (aka Desi Arnaz), but he was doing his best Easter Bunny impression the day I made his acquaintance.

You Scribe Fans know what to do, correctamundo? Take a gander at this Superior Snap. Then, conjure a caption for said snap & tippy-type it, real quick-like, in the comments section of this post.

And that's all there is to it, folks! You'll win nothing tangible, this time around, for all your toil & trouble. Just the knowledge that you've given a whole herd of us a good giggle. And what could be better than that?

I'm Proud to be an American

Today's 6-Word Saturday features the famous DC Cherry Blossoms, with all of their beauty & some of their beasts. Your Humble Scribe spent 3 hours in close proximity to the White House, the Ellipse & the Tidal Basin yesterday afternoon. Here's what I came up with:

DC Caucus: Out in full force.

Monumental Framing: The inspiring Jefferson Memorial.

Grandmother Willow? Looking spry at 98!

Tidal Basin Tourists: Different kind of snowstorm.

Mr. Jefferson & Friends: 'Nuff said!

DC's Finest: Guarding the motorcade route.

As you can see, I've got 6 words for each of my 6 snaps this a.m. Suffice it to say that when the Cherry Blossoms coincide with Easter Weekend, all hell breaks loose. I've never seen so many folks in such a confined space. The blossoms reign supreme this time of year in DC.

Toward the end of my Tidal Basin stroll, we experienced~en masse~a peculiar DC phenom. Suddenly, the wall-to-wall traffic on 15th Street vanished, as black Secret Service SUVs swung into place. The gallant gentleman, above, turned his mighty steed toward a blaring hubbub that emanated from the direction of the freeway. A police helicopter flew in circles over our heads.

I'm proud to say I'm an American every time this happens (and in DC, it happens quite a bit). As the crowd pushed curbside, dozens of motorcycle cops, 2 ambulances & a press van zoomed past us, followed by 2 armored limos & another dozen or so SUVs.

President Obama was headed home. And guess what? The assembled masses gave him a standing ovation.

Reflecting on Spring Break

Several of you have asked recently if Our Humble High School grants its hardworking employees a 2-week Spring Break. Alas, this decidedly is not the case. My chicas' breaks fell on consecutive weeks this year: Ella Numera Dos had last week free, while Una's break coincided with the one granted by my school district.

So I did what any self-respecting Mom would do. I took time off last week to wing down to St. Pete Beach, FLA, with the youngest; and flew up to Madison, WI this week to be with the eldest. Frequent Flyer miles will allow one to be carefree like that every so often.

A word to the wise, though, if you're thinking about galavanting all over the place, especially if you're usually not on the road so much. Your bank will ask questions of you if you withdraw funds from ATMs in three different states within the span of a couple of weeks; they even might freeze your account, forcing you to call the "home office" and do a tap dance thru the automated customer service prompts until you get the chance to speak with a real flesh & bones persona.

That happened to Your Humble Scribe yesterday evening. Wachovia (now a branch of Wells Fargo; only the 7th name/company change since Mr. Fairway & I opened an account) wondered about my recent ATM transactions. Remember, now~I'm just a mild-mannered school teacher, whose travels are mostly limited to the East Coast, including the OBX. I presume Wachovia's bean-counters were curious; not so much about my own escapades, but those of my ATM card.

I guess I should be thankful that the bank cares enough to keep track of my transactions. It's slightly plausible, I suppose, that my card could have been lifted in St. Pete Beach, then used in the DC 'Burbs & then in Wisconsin. But do petty thieves get around that much, to such disparate locations? I tend to think most of those guys (well, some of them are gals, I guess) are "hit & run" kinda shysters. Had I swiped a card in FLA, I'm thinkin' I wouldn't go to the trouble of waiting 5 days & then using it in DC, then waiting 5 more days & using it in the Upper Midwest. But that's just me.

BTW, I snagged the snap above on the last evening we spent on the Gulf Coast. I love the way the sunset is mirrored in the windows of our hotel, don't you?

All this computer monitoring puts me in mind of Big Brother. I just hope if he's watching me that he has my best interests in mind.