I was going through Lightroom folders when I found one called "100CANON_fromPapasCamera" from 2013. It was, as the name suggests, from Papa's camera.
Lots of pictures I don't remember seeing.
Discovered Treasures
general
The Doll
I don't remember where the doll came from -- some aunt or other gave it to us, or maybe Nana. It's fairly lifelike in its size and features. Enough that when we first put the doll's box in E's closet (far back on the top shelf), he fussed quite about about how terrifying it was to think that such a thing was lurking inside his closet.
Today, K got the doll out to practice for a shoot she did for a friend who just had her first child.
As the Boy was cleaning up his room before bed, I noticed the box on his bed and went downstairs to retrieve the doll. I tried to sneak back in without him noticing because I feared a little breakdown when he realized the doll was going back into the closet.
"Oh, are you putting the doll up?" I heard behind me.
"Yeah. Mama was using it to practice pictures with today."
"Oh." Pause. "That doll -- I used to be so scared of it."
Spicy
The Boy has a love/hate relationship with spicy things -- well, things he calls spicy. Coke is a little spicy, he says, and I guess there is something of a tingle in the flavor, a small little bite from the carbonation. Of course, we drink it so very rarely that that alone might account for it: he's not used to carbonated drinks.
Yet he loves chips and salsa, and he prefers the medium salsa to the mild. And Aldi's spicy salami? He'll devour that.
Today, while out shopping with K, he was insistent on getting some Listerine to try, because he knew it was "spicy."
His verdict tonight? Not too bad. His expression, though, belies his calm proclamation.
From this Summer
Another photo from Jones Gap.
Downtown
We decided today we needed to get out, to take the kids and the dog and go into the world. Our first stop: a new mural downtown.
It took a month to pain this eight-story mural, and it's been in the news a few times.
Afterward, we went for a walk in the ever-growing park downtown, followed by a light dinner.
It was almost like normal times except for the masks, which we left off most of the time as there were hardly any people about.
1991
Game 2
First Week
Whew -- Thursday. I made it. Or rather, “I MADE IT!” I can’t believe i just taught the same lesson four times a day for four days -- sixteen times the same lesson. THE SAME STINKING LESSON!. I thought i would go absolutely stark raving mad before it was all over. And yet I somehow made it through.
I did realize in sixth period -- or was it fith period? They’re all running together for me -- that I didn’t do the student handbook stuff with them today. And to be honest, I’m not even sure when I stopped doing it. Did I do it with third period today but not the other periods, or did I just neglect it completely today? I really don’t remember.
When you teach the same thing over and over, it really becomes difficult to remember what you’ve done when. I would get to a point in the lesson and think, “Wait didn’t I tell them this earlier? Or was that last period?” And honestly, I could just as easily ask myself, “Or was it the period before that?” Every period seemed to blend into the next; the last four days have been a blur, a smear of repeated instructions and jokes. I found myself saying even the same off-the-cuff jokes as well, repeating them if they amused me even vaguely the first time I made them. The pinnacle of the dad jokes joke? I thought of it in fourth period today (Or was it third? Or fifth?) and repeated it the other periods. It’s no longer off the cuff if you’re doing it with intention, is it?
Still, there was a certain ease to the week. I never had to stop and think, “Wait, what am I doing tomorrow?” The answer was always the same.
I remember reading a book -- a Malcolm Gladwell book, I think -- about the value of repetition for toddlers. It was about the show Blues Clues and the fact that apparently, the series aired the same show every day of the week, thus repeating the week’s episode five times. It had something to do with the comfort of predictability. When the kids watched the same show for the third or fourth time, they knew exactly what would happen next, and that gave them some kind of comfort. It reminds me of E and his ability to watch the same episode of Mighty Machines over and over. “Deep Underground” was a favorite -- he must have watched that ten or more times. If streaming the show on Netflix could somehow wear it out, that’s just what he did.
Yet despite all that, the repetition didn’t do anything for me but tire me out. If I had to do that one more time, I think I’d mutiny. “Mr. Finlay, I refuse to do that lesson one more time! Not even once!” Mutiny on the Hughes!
I’m also a little surprised that I managed to write four times in this journal about essentially the same thing: the first week back. The days, despite their repetition, have had a certain different quality all their own. In fact, the word count shows that I’ve done more each day than I did the previous day, which was the opposite of what I expected.
Random Picture from the Past
Living in Lipnica, I spent a lot of time with friends in this bar or that bar, talking and just passing the time. One evening, sitting with my best friend, I snapped a picture. I had my camera with me because it was the last night that particular bar was going to be open. He turned his head just as I snapped the long exposure, and the resulting image was otherworldly -- haunting and somewhat terrifying.
Masking Scooters
Masks
Students in our district are required to wear masks when social distancing is not possible, and most of the students, when given the option, leave their masks on most of the time. When they're sitting at their desks in the nearly-empty classrooms, they can take their masks off (teachers are forbidden to do so), but that usually doesn't happen until 10-15 minutes into the class (in my experience). As a result, I form an impression of what kids look like solely from their eyes, forehead, hair, and ears (if visible). When the masks come down for a few moment, it's often like I'm suddenly looking at another person. My mind has tried to fill in the blanks, adding a nose and a mouth, but a given student's nose and/or mouth are often not what I'm expecting.
"Wow," I think, "his nose is a lot more Roman than I was expecting."
"My, she has a really small mouth! I didn't expect that!"
So for a few moments, their physical appearance is like their personality: I see just a bit of it and am left imaging the rest. When that other bit comes out, I'm sometimes surprised.
A Scooter
The Boy spent some of his first communion loot on a long-longed-for scooter.
And while the camera is out, why not try making some faces?
2020 School Year Day 2
We've finished two days of school. I swear it feels like a week already. There's nothing like doing the same thing over and over to drive the joy out of something. Today, the same lessons as yesterday: one lesson four times, the other once. And what's worse: this is only the halfway point. I still have to do the same lesson just as many times as I've already done it.
As with yesterday, I tried journaling with my journalism/creative nonfiction students today:
Day two is now behind us. I feel like we’ve been here for a week. I’ve done the same thing with eight -- count them, eight -- classes, and I still have eight more to do. I’m already seeing that the plan to try to do the same lesson with the in-person kids throughout the week was an absolutely ridiculous idea: I’d go stark raving mad if I had to do every week like this week, with the same lesson over and over and over and over and over and over and over. (I’m tempted to do that sixteen times, but I don’t even want to try to keep track of how many times I’ve actually typed it…)
So what was different about today as opposed to yesterday? New kids -- the obvious answer. Some very entertaining kids, including siblings of folks I”ve taught in the class (at least two that I can think of). Some very quiet kids. (I used to worry about such kids, but I’ve learned over the years that such kids are quiet as a sort of defense mechanism. What I mistook for near-apathy is in fact just a lack of certainty about where they fit in the class, what their role will be.) SOme kids with great senses of humor -- kids that can take ribbing and know that I”m’ actually being silly with them and who hopefully realize I mean the exact opposite.
I also remembered to have my online meeting with kids who are still at home. I got to talk to three girls, one I’ll meet tomorrow and two I’ll meet Thursday. I don’t think anyone really realizes how far that goes in creating a positive first impression. It’s a little bit of effort that has a disproportionately large impact on one’s impression. It’s like paying a dollar and getting ten dollars worth of candy.
All these new procedures are gradually becoming new habits. I didn’t forget to spray disinfectant on any desks today, and I”m not sure I got them all yesterday. It’s one of those things that I think, “Missing one time is not the end of the world,” when, in fact, in a pandemic situation, it might very well ultimately be the end of the world for someone. It’s almost depressing to think about it like that, but viruses don’t care how we feel about them. They’re just there, doing what they do without giving it a single thought.
I am getting terribly yawny now. I always do during seventh period. When I used to have English I during seventh period, I felt those kids were getting something of a raw deal because I could never get through that class with the same enthusiasm as I did with other classes. I found myself wishing I’d filmed fourth period so I could just say, “Watch this video and do it along with them…” It was the same way yesterday, and as a result, I went to bed shortly after nine. I was so exhausted that it was difficult to focus. I guess it’s the way every year during the first few weeks: my body is used to a different schedule, and it rebels at having revert back to a school-year schedule.
It was an especially long day because it was the Girl's first volleyball game. Possibly the last -- who knows in these times. Is it safe? We all take the most precautions that we can. It's such an important element in L's life, so important to her mental heath -- does that outweigh the risks? What exactly are the risks? It still seems so unlikely and yet so inevitable.
The Girl did well; her team won both sets. She had a couple of really good saves, and in set one, her spike was the winning point (if memory serves).
Her school won both sets easily, and the coach was wise and sportsmanlike enough to pull almost all the starters when the second set was clearly in the bag and put some sixth- and seventh-graders in to get some experience.
A good day, but tiring.