Monday, June 25, 2012
A Sign of the Times
After more than a month buried in the flotsam and jetsam of closing out the school year, I'm making a valiant effort this beautiful June morning to break free of the confines of Room 215 and try once more to join my brethren of the blogosphere in applauding - and bemoaning - this crazy thing we call "life."
The sign above speaks volumes, not only to my state of mind these last several weeks, but to the current state of education today.
"Oh, no," you're probably muttering to yourself, "Mrs. Scribe means to opine on the generic - and tedious - topic of American public education?"
I can hear the collective sighs, as all three of my regular readers power down and shut their laptops. Time for some CoffeeBux, no doubt.
Actually, I just wanted to jump back into a discourse more closely related to me - and Room 215.
I've been away from my post at The Scholastic Scribe, of late, for a number of reasons. A change of leadership - yes, Principal Man has gone far, far away - at the top in my high school chain-of-command has necessitated not my circling of the wagons so much as my having to become slightly more circumspect in my comments in this oh, so public space. I wanted to give the New Guy some breathing room - to cut him some slack, even though I'm pretty sure he has no idea that this forum exists.
The good news is that the New Guy made no drastic or offensive changes his first few months at the helm. The bad news is that his relaxed demeanor didn't stop tons of my colleagues from beating their wings incessantly, like moths around the proverbial flame, trying to ascertain the next time the new principal would emit any kind of a gaseous substance either from his body or his mind.
So, to mix metaphors here, I've been keeping my powder dry. And waiting for the end of the school year with my fingers crossed and one foot out the door of Room 215.
To add to the predictable chaos of closing out the school year - the yearbooks and the grading and the overly excitable seniors and the final exams - I've faced some personal drama, as well.
If you've just suffered a rapid intake of breath ("Oh, no! Drama!), you have my permission to exhale. The drama of which I speak is only of the muy bueno variety. Both my chicas, you see, graduated. On top of that, my eldest nephew tied the knot, the first of this set of cousins to do so. So, within four weeks, we celebrated six times, all in the great state of Wisconsin - a wedding (his), a birthday (mine), Mother's Day (the same day this year as my birthday), a law school graduation (Ella Number Una), a senior art show opening (Ella Numera Dos), and a college graduation (Ella Numera Dos).
That's a heck of a lot of fiestas. I did save money - and my sanity - by staying out in Wisco for a week of celebrations, necessitating the purchase of only two plane tickets in a month's time. Mr. Fairway, however, traveled out to the Badger State and back three times - including two flights within a week.
So, I'm back. Expect, this summer, to be regaled with tales from the "dreary halls, where teenage souls go to die," as my cherubs from the Class of 2010 so accurately stated in the missive they left on my classroom door. I'll also catch you up on the doings of my daughters (Una y Dos), Mr. F., and the animals who have been bunking at La Casita Scribe, of late. Oh, and I'll probably harangue you with political commentary along the way. Some of our elected buanas are just so comical, after all.
You'll be hearing from me soon, I promise. It's just a sign of the times, correctamundo?