Bells Are Ringing

This morning I went to Mass at the school, because they were honoring the parents who volunteered during the school year. Usually I avoid this event (it's a social-anxiety thing) but Little Brother was persistent in telling me he really wanted me to be there.

He's 11. How much longer is he going to be happy to see his mom volunteering at school? I returned the form saying I'd attend the Mass and social afterward.

When I got there, dripping from the rain because TheDad had mistakenly taken both our umbrellas to work with him, a smiling student met me at the church door and told me that all the volunteers were supposed to sit up front. So I did, because Little Brother wanted me to be there.

Fortunately there was no naming of names, just a group "all volunteers please stand up so we can thank you" at the end of Mass. I could deal with that.

Afterwards, we went into the cafegymatorium for a nice little reception. There were two decorated tables with these cute gifts that the first and second grades had put together--with handwritten thank-you notes from the kids. There were smiling seventh-graders pouring our coffee and juice and inviting us to take fruit and pastries.

I sat next to a mom whose oldest son is in Little Brother's class, and across the table from a mom whom I don't know, but who had a beautiful one-year-old daughter with her. The little girl had made an impression on me during Mass; she was very quiet most of the time, but when the altar server rang the bell, she exclaimed, "Yay! Bells!" Both times.

That reminded me of Little Brother at the same age. Big Brother was an altar server then, and I was up front with the choir. TheDad would sit in the back with Little Brother, and when the servers rang the bells, Little Brother would yell, "Big Brother's ringing the bells!" You could hear him throughout the whole church.

I was telling the other moms at my table about this, and the mom with a boy in Little Brother's class said that her sons used to ask her why the servers rang the bells. Her answer was that they ring the bells to show that this is an important moment. Of course, the next week, when the bells would ring, one of her boys would (loudly) say, "It's an important moment, right, Mom?"

I was dreading that reception, and even thought about ducking out on it, but I'm glad I went. I'm glad I sat with moms who bring their children to Mass. I'm glad my child attends this school where the kids are taken to church and can learn about Jesus and why it's an important moment when the bells ring. I'm glad that the parents can share, through funny stories about what their own kids did in church, how we help our children understand those important moments.

21st-Century Conclave

Yesterday's "white smoke rising" moment really brought home just how connected the world is. The Papal Chimney Watch was in full swing in the early afternoon, and I was in the car listening to commentary on satellite radio's The Catholic Channel. My husband was with me, commenting that he felt sorry for the radio personalities, who had to just keep talking until they had certain information.

We got home just as the announcers stated that the marching band was entering St. Peter's Square. I refused to get out of the car until I'd started up the satellite-radio app on my iPhone. I didn't want to miss a moment.

I was frustrated to discover that there was a 5-minute delay between the radio broadcast and the online version, but I set my phone next to me on the desk and listened as I headed to YouTube on my computer for the Vatican TV live feed. I started Twitter on the iPad.

I didn't even bother with the regular TV. For the last conclave, that's all I had. But this was amazing--using various media to receive information in real time (or as close as an online app for satellite radio could get.)

Then I watched the clock. It was getting close to 3, dismissal time for Little Brother's school. I was sure that they'd be watching in class, and didn't want him to miss "the Big Reveal" while he was on the school bus.

Pope Francis reached the balcony at about 3:15. We barely had time to digest the news and try to find out a little more about him when Little Brother exploded through the front door, yelling, "We have a new pope, and his name is Francis!"

"How did you know? They didn't announce his name until after you were on the bus!"

"Somebody on the bus has an iPhone and we were all watching it on the 3G."

This is probably the best use of an iPhone on a school bus EVER.

Day: Made

This afternoon I was handed a packet of thank-you notes written by the 5th grade at Little Brother's school. Every child in his class wrote me a thank-you note last week, during Catholic Schools Week, because I am a weekly volunteer in the school library. The notes were hand-written on stationery that the kids decorated themselves. I know this class well, because I've worked with them for 4 of the 6 years I've helped in the library. This is a great bunch of kids--they've been together since kindergarten and as a group they're pretty tight.

As to the sentiments expressed in the letter, they were often at the corner of Funny and Sweet, because that's where ten-year-olds live. Here are a few of my favorite gems:

"We are all very grateful for you donating your time for the school. You're a very thoughtful person. As they say in Spanish, gracias!"

"It is a massive responsibility for you to go to the library every single Friday."

"Every time you come on a Friday it makes me feel happy inside."

"When you are supporting us we are supporting you."

"I hope you are proud of yourself!"

"I am thankful because you could be doing something other than helping."

"You are the greatest book stamper ever!"

Two kids wrote "Go Notre Dame" on their letters as well. (After all these years together, they know me well. And I know them well enough to know that for one boy, that was a big thing--he's absolutely not a Notre Dame fan. But he wrote it on my letter because he knows that I am.)

And one child made a special point of thanking me for finding a copy of a book she'd been looking for, and setting it aside for her until her class came to the library. That's what it's all about.

That packet of letters made my day. I love helping the school by lending a hand in my favorite place!
Plus, it's good to know that my book-stamping talent has not gone unnoticed.

Not User-Friendly

And now it's time for my annual Re-Registration Rant.

It's time to sign up Middle Sister for her senior year of high school. (All together now:  "She's a senior ALREADY?")

When registration time comes around, the school emails me a link to her account. (Full disclosure:  This account is not maintained by the school, but by the tuition-management service contracted by the diocese. None of the issues I encountered were things the school could have remedied or prevented.) In the email, it said that that if I signed in using this link, it would display my student's information. So I signed in at the link, fortunately remembering my username and password.

I should have known I was in for it when I was asked to enter my returning student's name, despite what the email from the school told me. After filling in that form, I came to a screen that instructed me to click the button labeled "Add Student"--this despite the fact that I'd already filled in the student's name, and that a little link labeled "Start" was next to my daughter's name. I followed the directions, though. Doing so took me back to the ADD screen, which I did not want.

Trying again, I clicked that "Start" link and continued registration.

The form remembers none of the information from previous registrations. Everything must be entered again.

Although I checked the box for "Married" after "Parents' Marital Status" and then the box for "Child lives with both parents" I still could not go on until I filled in Custodial Parent Information. The form is set up so that I would have to designate one of us as Custodial and one as Non-custodial.

I called the customer-service number of the management company that handles the registration website, but I'd have had to wait 12 minutes to (maybe) speak to a person. That's way too long to listen to cheesy "on-hold" music punctuated by smarmy messages reminding me how important my call is to them, so I bailed. I considered calling the school, as I've had to do at least once before when filling out this form and reaching this step. The whole process comes to a screeching halt because the system cannot deal with a child in a traditional two-parent household.

Then I noticed that underneath the boxed for "Name of Custodial Parent" and "Name of Non-custodial Parent" there was a check-box labeled "Not applicable." The same was true for the addresses (and phone numbers) of the custodial and non-custodial parent. Several checked boxes later, I was able to proceed with the next step.

I'm quite sure that it's not very hard to have those "Not applicable" boxes automatically fill in when the box "Child lives with both parents" is checked.

I was asked to fill in my student's religion in two separate places. Similarly, I had to fill in the names of both parents, and our address, several times throughout the process.

If all this is tied to an account that I created years ago, why doesn't it remember any of that information?

I did notice at the end, however, that it had my bank account number on file so it could easily and automatically deduct the registration deposit of $490. That was the only convenient part of the whole process.

That's right:  it doesn't remember my kid, my address, my phone number, my religion, or what to do when both parents live in the same house, but it's got access to my checking account. That's more than a little unsettling.

Library Tales

I was the substitute for the librarian/computer teacher at Little Brother's school today. I'm there every Friday anyway as a volunteer helper, so I know the routine--but it is different when you're on your own.

Someday I want to bring my resume along, because there's a pre-K aide who seems to think I'm generally clueless and inexperienced. It's true that I haven't taught 4-year-olds before, but I am a certified teacher who has taught grades 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 and college. Maybe I'm misinterpreting her remarks that I was "brave" to go it alone today. Brave or not, I'm qualified to do the job.

The day kicked off with a very pleasant second-grade class. They like to tattle, but that's their only issue. I don't like tattling so I don't reward it, and that drives them crazy. I love this bunch of kids, though, and we had a good time and enjoyed a story after they checked out their books.

Normally when the librarian brings a class into the computer room I stay in the library to shelve books, make bookmarks or organize displays. When I'm substituting, those tasks wait until the kids are back in their classrooms, and I'm in the computer room with them as they work on projects. I enjoy helping them with their research, though their keyword skills can make me crazy. The 5th grade is studying explorers and using Pages to make brochures with biographical information. Some of them needed assistance, like the boy who found that googling "Cartier" didn't produce the results he was looking for. "Does 'Cartier' mean something else?" he wondered.

One of his classmates, meanwhile, was mystified by her explorer's cause of death. She wanted to know the definition of "dysentery." I asked if she really wanted to know, because it was kind of gross, but she insisted that she wanted to know...so I told her. She was horrified. "People died from that?"

"Well, in the 18th century, yes," I said. "It's not like they could just take some Immodium. They didn't have all the medicines we have now."

I should apologize right here and now to the 5th-grade teacher for my "TMI" description of this disease. I'm kind of curious about how it will play in the final report.

I expected the eighth grade to give me more trouble than they did, after I wore a Notre Dame shirt to school last week and the boys all yelled "Roll Tide!" I was prepared to eat crow over Monday's game, but a couple of kids made quick remarks and then that was over with. They were chatty, but busy, and our biggest problem was that no one could figure out how to print a Powerpoint slide in "portrait" instead of "landscape." Finally I gave up and just told them to save their work until the librarian returns and can show them how.

After two 20-minute whirlwind classes with the 4-year-olds it was time for lunch duty, where I supervised the beverage table and then wandered around the cafeteria making sure kids ate their lunches. I called one 3rd-grader by name, which surprised his classmates who then quizzed me on the name of every kid in the class. I got them all except the new boy, and since I haven't seen these kids since June, I was pretty pleased with that.

Then I had half an hour to eat my own lunch before heading back to greet the kindergarten. Everyone checked out books, then we read a story. They enjoyed the story so much that they didn't even notice their teacher returning to pick them up.

The biggest wrinkle in the day came after all my classes were done, because the 4th graders came in to use the iPads. The secretary had given me the code to the locked cabinet, but there's a trick to opening that lock and I couldn't figure it out. I sent up a distress signal in the form of a text message to the librarian, who clued me in on what to do and the cabinet opened right up. And then I had the chance to kick off my shoes and go on Lysol Patrol in the computer room, wiping down tables, chairs, keyboards and mice. Oddly enough for this time of year, I didn't have to run Tissue Patrol all day--there was no visible snot. I used the cleaning time to listen to a podcast on my phone. Now the computer room and library are neat and clean and ready for the librarian to return on Monday.

And I am tired.

An Open Letter to the High-School Principal

As the principal, I'm sure you get plenty of emails from parents that concern complaints and problems. I would like to take this opportunity to let you know of the very positive experience I had today with a group of students from your school.

My daughter had asked if we could host a pasta party for the JV girls' soccer team. When the girls arrived after practice today, they immediately began thanking us for hosting and asking if they could help in any way. I'm sure I heard the words "thank you" at least three times per student:  when they came in, when they got their dinner, and when they departed. Everyone was respectful of me and my home. They enjoyed each other's company and were a pleasure to have as our guests. The girls on this team were a credit to their families and to the school.

This is my seventh straight year as the parent of a student in your school, and I have come to expect nothing less of the young people you help to educate.


I emailed this letter to the principal after this evening's pasta party. I know this was a small matter, but it was wonderful to have such a positive experience--it really made my day.

Summer Reading

Boy, it would be cool to have nothing at all to do all summer long but read.  I'd go for that in a heartbeat.  I have been reading (every chance I get) and I've jumped back on the Goodreads bandwagon to track my books.

Two of my kids have summer-reading assignments.  Middle Sister's school has a "One Book, One School" policy where students, faculty and staff all read the same book for the summer.  This year it's The Hunger Games.  While at first I thought the school was selling out by choosing a popular book like that, I've changed my tune; I read the book (and the rest of the series) and there is a LOT in there that high-school students can discuss and analyze--and not just in English class.

Little Brother is required to read two books.  One, A Dog's Life, is required, and he has a generous list of others from which he must choose one more.  He's worked his way through most of that list (Encyclopedia Brown, anything from Dan Gutman's "Baseball Card" series, and a few others) but he steadfastly refuses to touch one of the books:  Charlotte's Web.

I'd almost let him take a pass on that if he'd said that it's a girls' book.  But he has not used that as an excuse.  "It's too big" doesn't fly with me, since last summer he read all the Harry Potter books.  Then he tried, "It's a children's book!"

"Yes, and you're a children," I retorted, using grammatical incorrectness to make a point.

Since he's in the middle of A Dog's Life, I asked him how that one was going.  He said that so far it's a sad story, and launched into a long tale about dogs being left by the side of the road by "one of the wives in the couple," which led Big Brother to muse that this is really a book about Mormons.

The Back-to-School Valentine's Night Extravaganza and Long-Hallway Jamboree

I can't begin to tell you how surprised I was to discover that the high school's Back to School Night, scheduled on Valentine's Day, was not very well attended.

A few observations on last night's event (in no particular order):

A proud moment:  one teacher stood at the classroom door, greeting parents and asking the name of their child.  She smiled when we named Middle Sister, said she was a joy in the classroom, and mentioned that she has been very conscientious about adding to the "prayer intentions" blackboard in the front of the room.

I love that teachers have "prayer intentions" blackboards and encourage the students to use them.  (This was NOT a religion teacher, by the way.)  Things like that are the reason we send our kids to Catholic schools.

And I love that my daughter is using that board.

It's a good thing Middle Sister runs track, because her classes are just about as far apart as they possibly could be while still being in the same building.

We ran into lots of people we know as we passed each other in the long hallways.  All the parents got in plenty of cardio last night as we rushed from class to class.  Some were too out of breath to do more than wave.

Moms, in general, walk a lot faster than dads.  Case in point:  we left the French classroom at the same time as another couple we've known for about 15 years.  We moms left the dads in the dust as we all headed to Bio, and the dads could be heard behind us, "They say we walk too slow.  I say they walk too fast."  Note to the dads (including my husband):  there is no such thing was "walking too fast."  You walk way too slow.

The principal wished us a happy Valentine's Day at least three times during the opening remarks.  Overcompensating for a bad scheduling decision, perhaps?  There were no apologies for the bad scheduling--which would have been welcome.

I'm convinced that one of my daughter's teachers has ADD.  Yikes.

Another teacher was a bit distracted because she could hear her kids, who were hanging around in the office across the hall from her classroom.  It was Valentine's Day.  She couldn't get a babysitter--not even her own college-age daughter.  We commiserated with her.  (And really, her kids were not bad at all, just a bit giggly, and if a Catholic school can't be family-friendly and tolerate the presence of a couple of kids around Little Brother's age, then shame on them.)

One teacher made us laugh by faulting the administration for not, at least, serving us pink lemonade on Valentine's Day.

What "Extracurricular" Means

Last week when I was substituting for the day at Little Brother's school, I took the opportunity to tell his teachers that he'll be having some late nights this week.  It's Tech Week now for Pippin; the show opens Friday.

Basically, I wanted to let them know that he'd be up late--because I want to know if this is affecting his behavior and work at school.  But they thought I had something else up my sleeve.

"I can change the deadlines for some of his assignments," one teacher offered.  She seemed surprised when I turned that down.  I told her that we'd make sure the homework was done before we headed out for rehearsals.

He's been handling 3 rehearsals a week (some of them running until after 10 PM) for more than a month now.  But this week it's going to be every night, and I didn't know how that would play out in the classroom.

Apparently I am in the minority here.  These teachers seem to be accustomed to parents who expect that academic requirements be adjusted when extracurriculars get extra demanding.  Around here, it's homework first.  Sports, Scouts, or other non-academic pursuits, worthy though they may be, do not excuse any of the kids from their school obligations.

Tales from Substitute Land

I spent yesterday filling in for the librarian/computer teacher at Little Brother's school.  Overall, it was a good day.  Only one child cried.

The really cute story I read with the first-graders

Here are some of the highlights:

The day began with a 20-minute stint in Morning Car Line, or as a friend of mine calls it, "Coddling Line."  Somebody's got to help the 3-year-olds climb out of the Hummers.  Seriously.  Those things are so high off the ground that a 3-year-old can see right under the car without bending over.  It was cold, but not raining, so that's as good as it gets in January.

It's an Eighth-Grade Privilege to lead the morning prayers over the PA system.  I'm guessing that yesterday's prayer leader has been cramming for a science test, because I swear she began with the words, "O Jesus, through the Molecular Heart of Mary..."

My first class was one of the 4-year-old pre-kindergarten groups.  I was nervous, because they were going to spend the time in the computer room, and I'm not as Mac-friendly as the librarian.  Also, I'd never seen the program they were going to be using.  She did show me how to log in to the web-based activity, and that mini-lesson turned out to be a very useful thing.  One child somehow logged herself out of the program no fewer than five times in a 25-minute class period.  Each time, I had to enter a username and password and click through a few things to restart the activity.

When that group came up the stairs to the library and struggled out of their winter coats (the pre-K is in a small schoolhouse across the parking lot) the kids proudly showed me their name tags.  "Are those for me?" I asked them.  "That's a really big help, because I never met you before!"  Then I told them my name, and the aide said, "They can just call you Mrs. S."  Upon hearing that, one little girl repeated my name.  I turned to the aide and told her, "Kids usually get it just fine."  Deal with it, lady.  I do.  Every day.  It's not THAT hard.

One of the perks of teaching the 4-year-old class is the Reception Line.  As the kids lined up to leave the library, a whole bunch of them stopped to give me hugs.

Without fail, there were quite a few kids in each of the 6 classes I taught yesterday who were worried about the librarian.  How sweet is that?  I made sure to let them know that she was actually there in the building that day working on some technical stuff with the principal.

Some weirdnesses:  I had back-to-back first-grade classes, and while I was deep into reading a great story with the first group, the second class walked into the library 5 minutes early.  HUH?  Now I have to figure out what to do with 40 kids?  I made the teacher wait while I finished the story with the first bunch, then sent them back to their tables for their library books.  Then I guess she had a change of heart because she offered to deliver the other class back to their teacher.  She still wound up with a few free bonus minutes, and I'm guessing her colleague lost a few (not to mention MY moment of panic there.  Substitute Teacher's motto:  never let 'em see you sweat.)

My first afternoon class came in noisily, followed by the music teacher whose class they'd just left.  Apparently they'd misbehaved in there, and he wanted to let me know that they stood ready to lose a privilege next week if they didn't shape up and behave in the library.  But they were good.  It took a little to settle them down, but once they all had books in their hands, they were busy reading when the librarian walked in and heard nothing but pages turning.  "They're so QUIET!"  (Substitute Teacher's motto:  don't put up with much.  A few well-directed glares work too.)

In the last class of the day, I had one child crying because of some misunderstanding the day before about a book to be reserved.  It took a little bit to get that worked out, especially since some other student had checked out the book in question earlier in the day.  Maybe it's uncharitable to say this, but there are some kids whose tears just don't affect me.  This kid is one of them.  I talked another one out of tattling, which is something that I just do not deal with.  That's really difficult when I've got the second graders, who are tattling pros by now. (Substitute Teacher's motto:  be immune to tears, tattling and puppy-dog eyes.)

All in all, though, it was a good day.

Advanced Math

Math has never been my strong point.  I managed to get through college by fulfilling my math requirement with "Introduction to BASIC."  And I always send the kids to TheDad when they need help with math homework.  He had several semesters of calculus, so he's way above my pay grade in math.

But math has been plaguing me all day today.  First, I got an email from my New York Cousin, who wanted to know how many servings one of my favorite potluck recipes (Dr. Pepper Baked Beans) would make.

That became a word problem:  How many 1/2-cup side-dish servings do you get from a dish that fills about 3/4 of a 4-quart cooker?

For the record, I'm guessing 20 to 25.

Figuring all that out was a lot easier than helping Little Brother with his math homework this afternoon.  Unlike me, he has always been good at math (he gets it from TheDad).  I don't know if the school changed its math curriculum this year or what, but suddenly he's having a really hard time figuring out what to do with the homework problems.  "I don't get how to do this," is a daily refrain around here.  He used to whiz through his math homework, and before this year, my biggest concern was getting him to slow down enough to write the numbers legibly.

I'm not very good at helping him with the homework, either.  I can add, subtract, multiply and divide.  I can even manage fractions and decimals, usually.  But they're asking the kids to do things in strange ways.  I can find the answer, but not using their method.  It's strictly "Old Math" for me.

The Disorganized Student

I was very happy to see that the fourth-graders were required to have "trapper" binders, loose leaf paper, and pocket folders this year. Little Brother has a good handle on academics but not on organization.  In his school, the fourth- and fifth-graders share two teachers for the major subjects, so there is some traveling between classrooms and getting used to two different sets of expectations.  It's a good way to ease the kids into the middle-school mode.

I figured that since his teachers asked for a particular type of binder, they'd be devoting some time, early in the school year, to good use of this organizational tool.

And week after week, I'd see him come home with all kinds of loose papers stuffed into one of the pockets inside his binder, which also contained his homework planner, pencil case, 200 sheets of looseleaf, 5 dividers, and 3 pocket folders.  The looseleaf?  Unused.  Dividers?  Divided nothing.  Pocket folders?  Empty, except for one which had a paper from Spanish class inside it.  Other Spanish papers were stuffed into that same pocket that held Scholastic book order forms, tests I'd signed, and a homework project due September 27--completed, but never handed in.

One month into the school year, it wasn't looking like his teachers were doing anything to make sure the students were using the supplies they'd been required to have.

So this morning, since there was no school, I had Little Brother empty out that binder.  He recycled all the papers he no longer needed (most of them).  He put all the Spanish papers into the Spanish folder.  He's already sort of in the habit of keeping Spanish stuff together, as that teacher encourages that habit in class.  And we labeled one pocket folder "Take Home" and "Hand In."  He will put anything to come home in the "Take Home" side.  When it's finished (homework complete, tests signed, forms filled in) it will go to the "Hand In" side.  We'll see if this works, and I can reinforce this system at home.

We labeled the dividers too, though there's nothing to divide at the moment.

I hope this helps him.  Next step:  dealing with the "flash cards" that are floating around his backpack.  I like that the teachers encourage the kids to make flash cards when they need to remember important terms or lists.  But they do no good when they wind up in the bottom of the backpack, in a jumble of subjects and topics!  Does anyone have ideas for how he can organize and carry these index cards around?  It's not like he can put a 3X5 file box in his backpack.

I really think he'd be better off with an accordion file, but I still think that teachers require things for a reason.  There will be conferences with the teachers in mid-November, so I'll give this another month and see how we roll.  If it's not working out, I'll talk with the teachers about it then.

Ideas for organizing a smart but scatterbrained 9-year-old will definitely be appreciated!

It's Good to Know

I first started working as a home-instruction tutor when Big Brother was about 3 years old.  I'm still listed as a tutor with one of the 3 districts in which I worked; the other two have contracted out the home tutoring.  While I'm not often assigned students anymore, I do enjoy the one-on-one work with a student who is too ill/injured/postpartum/pregnant/anxious/depressed to attend school.  (Yes, I've had students in each of these categories--as well as a few discipline cases and a couple of malingerers.)  There are students I've only taught for 2 weeks or so before they return to school.  Most of them, I never hear about again.

Every once in a while I run into one of my students, who lived here in town and had a baby girl during her senior year of high school.  I was paid to be her English tutor, but I also did a good bit of informal encouragement; this young mom was breastfeeding her daughter, keeping up with her classes, and handling quite a bit of the housework.  She later married the father of her baby and they have another child as well; now she's a stay-at-home mom, although she did work quite hard when her little girl was young, managing a Domino's Pizza.  Her resilience, determination and dedication served her and her family well, and it touches my heart that every so often, SHE recognizes ME.  She is eager to tell me how things went for her family and I love to hear how well they are all doing.

Today's local paper features a story about one of my former students.  I taught her for an entire spring, when she first became ill during her junior year of high school.  I remember cancellations due to specialist visits and medical tests.  She never felt well but she tried hard to stick with the schoolwork.  She's 27 now, married, and recently received a kidney transplant from her older sister.  There are complications with her disease, though.

If you read down to the end of the article, you'll see that she recently attended a Mass of Healing at the Shrine of St. John Neumann in Philadelphia--and her family welcomes prayers.  It's lovely to see that in the paper, and my former student Christine can count on mine.  It's good to know how things are going, and it's good to know that although 11th-grade English is long over, there is still something I can do to help.

You've Got Some 'Splaining to Do

Little Brother has a friend here for a sleepover tonight.  Many of his classmates are surprised, when they come over, to learn that Little Brother has a Big Brother, since during the school year, Big Brother isn't around much.

"Big Brother, when did you graduate from St. Charles?" the friend asked.

"I never went to St. Charles," Big Brother replied.

The horrified response:  "Why NOT?"

Little Brother explained:  "We didn't know about it."

Um, well, that's really not the story, but Little Brother was too young at just-turned-four to have a grip on the real situation.

Storytime Ooops!

One of my favorite parts about helping in the school library is storytime. Because the kindergarten and first grade only get 45 minutes to divide between library and computer class, we don't get to have storytime every week.

Today, though, the librarian was helping to chaperone the 8th grade trip, and I was flying solo in the library. The lesson plan she left for me included storytime for both of the primary-grade classes I'd see. Bonus: I got to pick the story!

The first-graders had let us know earlier this year that they are big fans of Tomie dePaola. Me too--I've enjoyed his picture books since the time I used to read them to Big Brother. So I went to the bookshelf and chose one of Big Brother's favorites: Tom.

In this story, a little boy's grandfather shows his mischievous side, giving Tommy two chicken feet. Tommy takes them to school and uses them to scare his classmates--and a teacher.

We were just getting to the good part when the first-grade teacher walked into the library to collect her students. And there I was, reading all about how this little boy caused a little playground mayhem with a couple of chicken feet.

So...what do you think the odds are that I'll be asked to substitute again?

It Can't Come Soon Enough

Closing night for the high school's spring musical (The Wizard of Oz) is tomorrow. We've been eating, breathing, and not sleeping the play for over two months now.

I had my reservations about allowing Little Brother to participate, but I went ahead and let him do it. (I also notified his teacher about the certainty of late bedtimes for days on end, and asked her to let me know if there were any problems with schoolwork or behavior. I guess there haven't been any.)

Middle Sister has been doing everything at school except for showering and sleeping. That's all she's had time for at home. She'd get to school around 8 AM, go to class until 2:30, start track practice at 3, eat dinner, and go to play practice until at least 9--and in the last two weeks, as late as 11.

No one's been around to do any chores. Except for me, when I'm not behind the wheel of the van, shuttling people back and forth to play practice.

The play has been a great experience for both of my kids. Middle Sister has made new friends and learned new skills (she's helped with stage crew set-building as well as being a cast member.) And Little Brother, apparently, has been "adopted" as the whole cast's little brother. At those Tech Week Dinners, he could be found dining with the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, the Wizard and the Flying Monkey in Charge. I'd go over to make sure he'd eaten a good dinner, only to find him playing video games on someone's cell phone or high-fiving a cast member.

So I'm glad that they have both had this opportunity, and I know they'll be missing the play on Monday when they get to eat dinner here at home and do chores and not have somewhere to be after dinner. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to serving dinner to the whole family, nagging my kids to get those chores done, and not having to get somebody somewhere after dinner.

After all, "there's no place like home."

My Pleasure

I had the pleasure of helping to serve dinner to 150 students, staff members, and future students at Middle Sister's high school tonight. Along with about 12 other parents and grandparents, I made iced tea, kept the baked ziti and meatballs hot, set up the dessert tray and spooned out salad.

The kids made it all worthwhile. Not one went through the line without thanking us many times over: for handing them a cup of iced tea or water, for extra scoops of baked ziti, for the delicious meal. Some kids even came back through the line to compliment the parents on the dinner. And before they all headed to the auditorium for rehearsal, they gave us a standing ovation.

The kids were happy, polite, and friendly. Truly a credit to the school--and their parents.

Grace Before Meals

I'm a big fan of Father Leo Patalinghug's website and his cookbook (worth the purchase price to get that "secret" fajita recipe).

I have the feeling that someone at my daughter's high school has also been influenced by Father Leo. Either that, or great minds think alike.

Tonight is the first night of "Tech Week" as the kids get ready for the spring musical. For seven nights of "Tech Week" (each weekday this week, as well as Monday & Tuesday of next week), a group of parents will arrive at school at 4 PM to cook and serve dinner to the 150 students participating in the play, stage crew and orchestra. It's a way to make sure that these very busy kids get a good meal before rehearsal, rather than a fast-food sandwich. But it's also a way to help the kids bond as they work toward a common goal.

I'll be there to cook, serve and clean up on four of the seven nights, and I'm really looking forward to it. I think this will be a wonderful experience for all the "play kids"--and the parents as well.

And when the play is over, I'll look forward to having the whole family back around my dining-room table again. But if the kids can't be here, I'm glad they'll be there.

Substitution

I was a substitute teacher today. I've done this several times this school year. I only sub for the school librarian (so far) which is fine with me. I know the routine, and I only have any particular group of kids for 30 to 45 minutes at a time.

Twice this year, I have had the fourth and fifth graders come through the library during my sub time. They share two teachers who have divided up the subject areas between them. Each time, the same teacher is dropping the kids off. When she leaves, she gets this concerned look on her face and asks me, "Will you be all right?"

(I'm sure she's unaware that I am a certified teacher with a Master's degree, but I'm still a little insulted).

After the first time I taught these two groups I had the kids' number. And we've done just fine, thankyouverymuch. They're not bad. They're just 10- and 11-year-olds.

And each time the teacher comes back to pick up the kids, she's surprised that they're being good. This afternoon when she retrieved the fifth graders, she was amazed to find them sitting at tables, all reading their library books quietly.

I guess I'm wondering if I should be insulted by all this. She doesn't seem to think I am capable of handling these classes, though I have proven otherwise. Or am I just paranoid?

First, Cause No Panic

This morning the kids at Little Brother's school attended Mass. He likes it when I go to the school Masses, so I do that when I can. Even though it means an extra half-hour out of my day (I go to daily Mass, but with no music and only 50 communicants, as opposed to 250+, it goes more quickly).

It's a good thing I was there today.

Had I not been there, I'd have missed the extremely cute sight of the kindergarten classes processing in, before the priest, while everyone sang "O Come All Ye Faithful." Each little student wore a homemade crown and carried a picture of a present, that he had colored himself. As the kids walked to the front of the church, they placed these presents in front of the Nativity scene. SO cute!

Had I not been there, I'd have missed a very interesting homily by a priest who has been living his vocation for over 50 years.

Had I not been there, I would have been sitting in another church, with my cell phone off, basically unreachable. And that would have been a bad thing, because Little Brother fainted sometime between the "Holy Holy" and the Memorial Acclamation.

I saw some teachers rushing toward the choir area (up front, in an alcove near the altar). Another teacher was running up the center aisle. She saw me and mouthed Little Brother's name. I grabbed my coat and handbag and rushed out of the pew, just as the Phys. Ed. teacher led Little Brother out the door that adjoins the choir area.

I took off for the main church exit, which was closer, then ran through the school hallway and let them in through the side door as the teacher was waving at the nurse's office window, trying to get her attention, so she could have someone open the door. Everyone else was in church.

The teacher was supporting Little Brother as I opened the door. I took him from there as she said, "Oh, you're here! That's good!" Then I led him slowly to the nurse's office. We sat him down on a chair, but his pale face and weak expression convinced me that he needed to lie down. So I asked her if he could rest on the cot in the office.

He didn't have a fever, but I was definitely taking him home, so I left them there while I ran upstairs to his classroom to find his coat and backpack. His teacher was in the nurse's office when I returned, and she teased me about stopping my kids from doing things like this (she's the one who jumped over pews when Middle Sister passed out in church a couple of years ago.)

For the record, we're now three for three as far as fainting in church. No surprise there; I used to do that myself, as did my dad, my mom, and my uncle. The kids come by this honestly.

Anyway, the nurse started speculating on what could be wrong with Little Brother that caused him to faint. After I detailed the breakfast he'd eaten (two slices of French toast and four slices of regular toast) she figured it wasn't that.

"It might be the flu," she commented. "When you were upstairs he said that his throat hurts. That's how this flu starts, with a sore throat. You know, three people in Pennsylvania have died from the flu already this year."

I was hoping Little Brother wasn't paying attention, but I hoped wrong. He's eight years old and very smart. His ears work just fine, even when the rest of him isn't feeling so great at the moment. And she was sitting right there at the foot of the little cot he was lying on.

In the car, on the way home, he wondered if he might have the flu. He mentioned that people died from the flu. I spent the rest of the ride reassuring him that he's fine and that he won't be dying anytime soon.

His temp did hit 99 in the late afternoon, though he had no fever this morning. But his appetite's been great. He ate the entire contents of his lunchbox before 11:30, and plowed his way through a big bowl of strawberries, two Pop-Tarts, and a lot of saltines before eating two helpings of spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.

I am more than pleased by how quickly the teachers acted when they noticed Little Brother's distress, and the concern they showed. But the nurse's bedside manner leaves much to be desired. Did she really need to scare a little boy who was probably plenty scared already about what had just happened? Did she need to suggest that he might have an illness that causes people to die?