Heads Up Seven Up

What started as a potentially easy way to end the one day work week this week turned into a full on guffaw for me. (Yes, we had two days off for a mid-Winter break and then two “snow” days that happened back to back after the break. Thus, a one day work week.)

It was 3:17 p.m.  We had cranked out a pile of work yesterday in Kindergarten. School ends at 3:30.  Why not teach these five and six year olds how to play the favored “Heads Up Seven Up” game that I loved playing when I was in Grade Two back in the day?  Yes. Yes.  Good idea!

This soon turned out to be a less than stellar idea.  I carefully selected 7 kids to stomp up to the front of the room.  I told the steps in chronological detail and checked for understanding. (Madeline Hunter would be so pleased.) Seven heads bobbed up and down when I asked if they knew what to do.  Then I turned my direction giving to the sea of Kindergarteners on the floor waiting to be “tapped” on the head.  Good. Good!  Everyone seemed ready for the BIG game!  I glanced at the clock (3:20 p.m.) Man, I am getting better all the time. I can give the hybrid version of directions in lickety-split time.  I tell myself in a congratulatory voice inside of my head,“You are amazing.”

The sea of Kindergarteners scurry to their tables and put their heads down anxiously awaiting one of the 7 chosen peers to tap them.  When all 7 return from the sea of peers and I say, “Heads Up!  Seven Up!” 12 kids stood up.  Hmmmm…I must not have been so clear on the “only tap ONE person” direction.

“Do OVER!” – After a more detailed re-explanation of the game it was now 3:22 p.m. and my mind was all set that we would make it one full round in this new game now.

The 7 chosen ones stomped out into the sea of their peers who were head down at their table waiting to be picked.  This time one of my table friends popped his head up when he got tapped and yelled, “I SAW YOU TAP ME!  I AM GONNA CALL YOU!” – Ahhh… Not how the game goes. (Quick one on one tutorial while the other remaining 6 chosen tap someone else and the original tapper re-selects someone.)

3:25 – The 7 chosen are back at the front. This time only 9 kids stand up when given the “Heads Up, Seven Up!” directive.  This is called progress.  So, we start by having kids guess who tapped them one at a time.  A girl suspects she is tapped by the tall boy at the end.  “Yep!”  They switch spots.  He sits down in her seat.  She comes to join the Chosen Tappers.  We get to the end of the line and the last person tapped guesses who tapped them and then I hear from the tall boy who just sat down because he was guessed to have tapped the girl, “No, I tapped you!” – Ahhh, Pumpkin, How many peeps did you tap?”  His reply, “Three!” – Oh, boy.  More directions being given and re-teaching at an alarming rate (Glancing at the clock and it is not 3:27 p.m.

Just enough time to try this game one more round and I hear sobbing from the farthest table.  I look up and one girl is standing and shouts out, “I have never been picked yet!” – Oh……… I know the feeling.  You get used to it.  This is what I am thinking in my head but I don’t say it.

Before I know it; 3:30 and our impromptu game comes to a screeching halt.  We may have to revisit this one with a LARGE poster showing the steps.  Nothing, NO, NOTHING, is ever simple in Kindergarten......... but then I suppose that is really why I like it so much.

A mechanic I am NOT~

A mechanic I am not.  This fact was driven home today in more ways than one.

I stomped out to the car to go to the bank.  (Sometimes you need to check on your C notes)  As I turned the engine over a light began blinking on the dash which accompanied a persistent tone that filled the cabin of the car.  The instant the car gives negative feedback, as it was this morning; I am tumbled into a mental state of fear.  Not because I think the car might blow up, but because it means I might have to face the mechanics at the dealership.  In itself it seems like nothing to be worried about, right?  Wrong.  Those guys are a lot smarter than I am and I always assume I am being taken for a proverbial ride when I push the car in for service.

I reached for the glove compartment to find the manual so I could first look up what the meaning of this blinking and chiming light meant. I then remembered that I moved the manual to the trunk in an effort to make more room for the CD’s and other paraphernalia that I need when I operate the car. (i.e. – gum, gloves, notepads, pens, etc.)

Oh, I forgot to say that we got a dusting of snow here in Seattle last night and  the temps dipped to below freezing.  Thus, the trunk of the car was frozen shut. (Irritation level on the rise).  I stood out in the cold and banged on the trunk of the car to try and break it free from the icy hold.  Success!  Or, near success as I pulled with all of my might to open that hinged compartment.  Something else that I failed to tell you about was that when I bought this car I didn’t bother to check the trunk.  The trunk hinges have some sort of “malfunction”.  They rarely work.  You have to put your foot on the bumper and pull up as hard as you can to get the thing to open.  The situation is exacerbated when the temps dip low.  So, you can imagine what type of effort was necessary to get that bad boy open to access the repositioned car manual. (Irritation at a near all time high)

After much effort I finally had that thing and was flicking through it trying to find the hieroglyphics page that showed the symbols that blink on the dash.  Bingo!  I found the bouncing thermometer in the book.  Apparently it means that the coolant level is too low.  No problem.  We can zip up to the auto supply store and get some.  Well, upon further research wouldn’t you know that Audi and Volkswagen require a “special” formula of coolant that can only, you guessed it, be procured at a licensed Audi or Volkswagen dealership.  The situation was testing my limits and at 10:00 in the morning.  Today was sure to be a barn burner.

I stomped back into the house and fired up the computer to locate the nearest “authorized” dealer.  I phoned.  Good news they had what I needed in stock.  When I found out it cost $24 a gallon I wondered if it was laced with gold.  It wasn’t. 

So, off I go to the dealership with my $24 in hand.  The bank and my C notes would have to wait. The whole drive I was rehearsing what I would say at the desk so that I wouldn’t get talked into a “computer analysis” to be sure that it was, in fact, the coolant that was low and that they didn’t somehow lead me to believe that perhaps the sensor was malfunctioning or that maybe I just needed a new engine.  Nope, I wasn’t going to be talked into anything.  After the purchase I was almost home when I pulled up close to a car in front of me at the light.  I wish I wouldn’t have noticed what I did, but I couldn’t help it.  Only one bright light shone on the bumper of the car in front of me.  Mmmmm Hmmmm.  The passenger side daytime running lamp was burned out.  Have you ever tried to put in a new one of these bulbs in these cars that were made after the year 2000?  No picnic, kids.  So, now I need to head out in search of the overpriced headlamp.  Oh, and did you know you need to wear a glove when you change it?  Not because they want to make the challenge of actually getting an adult sized hand in the small opening allowed for the change, but because the oil in your skin can somehow render the lamp useless.  I have fumbled and banged around for thirty minutes in previous sessions when trying to change the headlamp on that car.

Maybe it is time to throw in the towel and just get a new car already. 

Cell Phones, Ferry Boats & Wine

The water isn’t my favorite place to spend time, though I do like a good jet ski.  Boats, ferries, swimming, skiing…..not my favorite.  Yesterday I had the “opportunity” to ride a ferry from Larkspur to downtown San Francisco.  I was taken aback by the interior of this ferry.  (It must have been assembled in the 60’s with no updates since.) Walking on board was like taking a step back in time.  The thing looked like it had been hosed down with left over baby blue paint. Instantly the condition of the interior of the boat gave way to me wondering about how sea worthy she might be. Visions of the not so distant ferry boat crashes in New York City danced in my head.  Would we be the next national disaster?  Diesel fumes permeated the cabin.  As I carefully surveyed each nook and cranny of this boat, what I was sure to be turn of the century machinery, my attention was diverted to an opportunity to make fun of someone right in front of me. I love those kinds of opportunities.  They are of particular value when your concern for safety is heightened.  It takes your mind off of the present danger.

In stormed what I quickly surmised to be a husband and wife of their early 60’s.  Their accent indicated they were perhaps from Germany.  Mama had a paper cup in her right hand.  Papa had an identical paper cup.  Both had on darkening sun glasses as they stumbled to a seat. Mama wanted the front two seats by the window.  She pointed and papa spat out, “Dose are too crooked.” – The seats at the front of the boat were at an angle on the sides by the window and whomever sits by the window has far less room than anyone who doesn’t.  I knew in an instant I had some on-board entertainment unfolding before me as Papa plopped down in the seat across the aisle from his bride.

Mama: (Now on her cell phone.)“Ve are on ‘da boat.  Ve got ‘da Bloddy Mary’s.  I got ‘da vorst hang over.” – (Whoever was on the other end of the phone was getting every detail, as was I and I loved it! The more other people reveal about themselves the more I can evaluate how screwed up, or not, that I really am.  Is it a surprise that I often rule that I am not as crazy as I once though based on the revealing of said strangers? But isn’t that what we all do?  We evaluate how we relate to others to determine where we stand. You might not think you do, but we all do.)

Papa: Though he wasn’t talking on the phone he concurred, “Yah, Yah.”

Mama: Handing the phone to Papa. “Here you talk to ‘dem.”

Papa: “ That vas’ sum party last night.  How many bottles did ‘ve have?”… (long pause)  “68 plus 4 Magnums!!!!   You young kids can go all night.   ‘Ve can’t.  I vent to bed at ten o’clock.”   (Mama was nodding her head in amazement at the total of bottles and Magnums. – What exactly were these Magnums?  Could it be what I thought they were?  Or, was this simply a term for some other type of alcohol. SURELY it was a type of alcohol  Please tell me these seniors weren’t doing what I thought they were doing.)

Now all of this was being said at a level that allowed any listener within 200 yards a clear understanding.

Papa: “’Ve had an extra key.  It ‘vas is in ‘da car.  Did I give you ‘da extra key last night?”

Mama: “Yes, ‘Ve had an extra key!” (This was said as if she were the one on the phone.  Who exactly was she saying it for? Was it simply moral support for Papa to indicate that he wasn't imaginging they had second key, but that the key is in fact now missing.)

Is it possible that this 60’s + Saturday night bash turned into a Key Party?  I mean, there was the reference to Magnums and to exchanging keys and that the young kids could go all night. Oh, surely not.  I looked at my own seat mates with a look of wonder and fascination as all three of us burst into laughter.  Clearly we were all wondering the same thing.  Papa kept giving details on how to get the missing key that was maybe still in the car.

Finally, a passenger on the ferry pointed to the sign that hung over Papa and Mama that read, “This is a Voluntary No Cell Phone Use Area.) – Mama quick grabbed the phone and walked 12 yards back outside of the cabin and stood on the landing to continue her conversation with whoever was on the other end who clearly had been part of the Magnum/Key Party last night.  I soon lost all interest in the highly fascinating life of these seniors as I couldn’t figure out if the sign that said “Voluntary No Cell Phone Use Area” meant that you had the option to voluntarily not use your cell phone and you could still talk on one if you wanted to, or if it meant that by being in this cabin you were agreeing to not use your cell phone.  Therein lies the dilemma: To be a schmuck or not?

Finally after the call ended Mama came back to papa. And so began the long discussion about the types of wine they had last night.  A fair bit of time was spent talking about Merlot.  Mama asked, “How much ‘vas ‘dat bottle ‘ve had?”

Papa: “$850.00  ‘I had four of ‘dose.” (Four of those!?!?  Four glasses of that wine or four bottles? – I would have assumed he meant four glasses but that verdict soon came into question as I heard Mama’s response.”

Mama: “Mmmm, Yah, ‘Dose ‘ver good.”

$850.00 for a bottle of wine?  What are we, Royalty?   I liked these two and secretly hoped they were going to the places we were going so I could glean more from them on how to live the high life, but alas as we disembarked the tinker-toy boat at the San Francisco Ferry terminal I bid farewell to them and began the day with my friends.

Airports and I

Sometimes it simply hits you on an idle Saturday afternoon.  “It”  being where you are and how far you have come.  Other times the proverbial “it” is how far you yet have to go.   Airports always have this effect on me.  (I am sitting in an airport as I write this.)

  Maybe it is all of the hurrying up to wait that brings on this personal time to reflect on your life.  Whatever the case, I am sitting here at Gate A8 looking out the window on the tarmac remembering past experiences and evaluating if I have really come all that far or if I am only imagining growth.  It can be difficult, though……. Difficult to reflect on the past, that is, with so many rich opportunities to judge in the present.  Take for example the man who just walked by and didn’t notice me.  He had his hand way up in his crack trying to get his skivvies out.  He wasn’t as sly as he thought he was.  I was just out of his line of vision, but he was fully within mine.  Do I thank him for reminding me that we all are vulnerable from time to time or just pretend I would never do anything like that?

Then it hits me…..How many times have I thought I was out of sight when acting in ways that were terribly inappropriate and even embarrassing?  Dare I say hundreds or even thousands?  Instantly I re-evaluate how far I have really come as I alluded to in the opening of this post. Sometimes I did things in such an outlandish way with no effort to conceal them.  For example,  Take the time I made a huge scene at the Volvo dealer when the new car I bought wasn’t running like it was new and I was irritated beyond belief.  I quickly calm myself writing this lapse in better judgment off as an unfortunate side effect of my age (twenty-eight at the time).  Surely most twenty-eight year olds are ego centric and pound on the counter at the service station when their brand new car sputters and spews black smoke, don’t they?

I also sit here and consider the countless times I have blown people off mid-sentence not fully listening to what they have to say because I had already made up my mind that I was right and they simply weren’t at a place to recognize it yet.  That one isn’t as easily attributed to age, as it is still a near every day experience for me in my late thirties.

So, maybe the issue isn’t about identifying how far you have come or how far you have yet to go.  Maybe it is simply about being mindful of what your weaknesses are and at the very least attempting to catch yourself the next time you start down the road with some of this less than stellar behavior.  Yes, Yes, that’s what it is. (I convince myself of this in a Bat-Man minute).  So, As I close this post I am head strong that I will at the very least make an effort to stop myself when I employ some of these selfish behaviors that have been around for quite some time.  Let’s see how it goes.  

Oh, Good news!  Someone just walked by wearing a pink polka dot skirt, winter boots, a parka and baseball cap.  – I can’t give up making fun of people… yet. That is simply beyond the scope of what is reasonable to expect from someone like me just yet….. That will be when I am 40 and beyond.  So……. just a few more years to cram in as much fun making as possible.  Gotta go- Gotta find out if the Polka Dot Princess will be on my flight.

What to Say~

The following phrases, words and replies are common place for anyone who works with young children.  I find myself using them on a near daily basis.  Of course this list is not all inclusive.  Feel free to add any you use in the comment section.

• What? (Usually said to buy some time to formulate a response to the question being asked)
• Maybe (Translation: No)
• Kissing needs to stay in your own mouth. (The nice way of saying, “Please don’t kiss anyone. I don’t want any phone calls from parents of the kids you are kissing at school.)
• You Who? – I am over here. (Typically spoken when it feels like few, if any, five year olds are actually listening to you.)
• Did you _________?
• Let me think about it. (Translation: No)
• We are all waiting for you. (The nice way of saying, Hurry Up!)
• What did I tell you when you asked me this question five minutes ago? (A nice way of letting a five year old you are slightly frustrated with the non-stop asking of the same question though slightly re-worded five different ways with the hope that you will somehow cave and give in.)
• Would you like it if… (insert undesirable behavior that the child perpetrated on another here)
• We are keeping our shoes on in case there is a fire. Can also be issued as a question, “Where are your shoes?”
• Say, “Excuse me.” (This is a prompt for when someone burps, passes gas, knocks someone over, drops something on someone’s foot, etc.)
• Please raise your hand if you have something to say when we are in a group. (Daily, multiple times daily, maybe even thirty times in an hour.)
• I know you want a turn. (Can be used as validation when you have no other response to offer that will sooth the child who is distraught over not having a turn yet.)
• Did you give him/her a turn? (Typically issued to the person who is witholding a turn to the person you said "I know you want a turn" to above.)
• Did you take it? (usually issued when there is a conflict over who gets to use the blue pencil, pink eraser, building block or any other desired item.)
• What would your mom or dad say if I called them and asked if this was true? (This one is usually met with big eyes and a quickly re-defined understanding of the event in question)
• Please get a Kleenex ™ (The nice way of saying, “Stop picking your nose and eating it.”
• Wash your hands, please. (This is said when someone has their hands down their pants – either front or back)

The Loogie~

Tears poured from the eyes of one Kindergarten student who stomped up to my desk spewing, “He spit in my eye!” – I couldn’t tell at first if the tears were simply a result of his eye weeping to rid itself of the foreign loogie or if he was expelling frustration in a full on cry.  Two seconds later I reached a conclusion as his bottom lip quivered and face turned to a deep scarlet color.

I whipped on my proverbial Investigation hat and summonsed the accused perpetrator to my desk for an inquisition. The look on his face must have indicated what the look on my face was.  He was somber, struck with an instant pale-faced fear and slowly trotted to my throne (a.k.a – my desk)

“Do you know why I want to see you?”

Student: “No.”   (Now why is it that when you ask a child something like this .....Something you know  they know that you know about, such as the alleged intentional loogie incident, that they still deny any knowledge of what is unfolding in front of them? – Oh yah, it’s that thing called human nature.)

Me: “Your table mate says you spat in his eye.”

Student:  Long silence (TRANSLATION: “I did.”)

Me: - Getting braver in my old age, “Are you thinking up a lie right now?”

Student:  Shakes head left to right.

Me: “Is it true? Did you spit in his eye?”

Student:  Steeling a glance at the accuser first then nodding says, “Mmm Hmmm. – But it must have just accidently got in there when I was talking.  It just flew out or somethin’.”

And there in lies the dilemma; two people who experienced the same incident, but with very different perspectives on the forces behind how it came to be.  I was at a crossroads.  Do I exert my power and simply rule that the accused spitter is in fact lying, or do I grant the benefit of the doubt until a formal jury can weigh in on the situation? (i.e. – My colleagues across the hall)

The jury is still out as I haven’t had a chance to confer with my colleagues.  I anticipate court will resume tomorrow at 9:00 a.m.

Going UP? No....Going Down~

I have a friend.  I know it may be hard to imagine, but I do have a friend.  Target.  My friend is Target.  They have everything at that place.  You can swoop in and gather everything you need to survive this life and stomp out with your arms full of life sustaining materials.  They have food stuffs, clothes, household items and best of all they have a snack bar. Food is the cornerstone of my life.  I am partial to the GIANT pretzels with pebble sized salt on top. 

One time my friend, Target, failed me.  It was a failure of such gargantuan proportion that I haven’t really ever forgiven her.  Mmm Hmmm..  The Target near my home is a Double Decker Target. (That’s how they do it in the big city.)  There is a set of escalators in the middle of the store.  So you can glide up from electronics to the household items and back down for the toy department. 

One afternoon I was just about to go down on the escalator with a few things in my arms as I managed the unthinkable.  My clodhoppers got hung up somewhere between step one and three and I managed a less than un-noticeable “tumble” down the escalator.  This was no ordinary tumble.  This was grandiose.  The articles in my arms flew out like projectile vomit and over the side railing crashing down on the floor below me.  We were lucky nobody was on the receiving end of these airborne wonders.  This “fireworks” like display was coupled with much guffaw and grunting noise as I went head over heels down the moving steps.  Why would I be laughing?  The best conclusion I can come to is that I laugh when I don’t want people to be concerned about something that is either highly embarrassing or highly uncomfortable.  These both apply here. I was cognizant enough to hear the fabric on my khakis rip on the way down.

After coming to a complete and final stop on the lower level I realized how embarrassing it is in your late thirties to be so clumsy that you could be mistaken for a child.  With a bruised ego I gathered the bag of corn chips that has sprung a leak allowing the newly shaped flakes of corn chips to dribble out.  I them looked for a brief moment for the box of toothpaste that had been airborne not more than thirty seconds before. It had gone “missing” during the tumble. – Nowhere to be found.  About this time I realized that I hadn’t surveyed the damage to myself.  Mmm Hmmm.  It gets better.

My leg had a few cuts with freshly emerging blood, but the kicker was that my skivvies were in full view from the rear because of my newly re-designed khakis which had sprung a leak as the rear pocket had been ripped off.  Where was it?  The pocket and part of my khakis were in the teeth at the bottom of the escalator.  Let me just tell you people something.  The escalator was hungry that day.  It wasted no time making threads out of my pocket.

With the latest development of my skivvies clad rump showing I placed one hand over the hole and walked/limped to the car.

The lesson here?  Hold the hand rail.