The SCM likes to think that he can speak Spanish. Consequently, when there is a Spanish class in the library, or a person who speaks Spanish, he attempts to do so. He is generally the only person in the conversation who does not realize that, in fact, he cannot speak Spanish. He knows many Spanish words, and thinks he has a good accent. It's embarrassing.
I have mentioned before, but not recently, that a former student I knew well has been stationed near Baghdad and that I have a link to his blog posted on the high school website. His father is our eye doctor, and when R went to see him yesterday, he told her that Elliot is coming home next month. I immediately checked his blog and indeed he is! He's coming "home" to his post in Georgia, but will be visiting New Jersey in February. What great news!
I am behind in my library journals, but I saw today that Maurice Sendak has a new book out. (Okay, it came out in May.) I heart Maurice Sendak, and this book appears to have as its central character that very same Max, who, one night, wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind ... or another. The new book is called Bears, and was actually written by Ruth Krauss, for whom Sendak illustrated A Hole is To Dig about a million years ago. I just put it in my Amazon cart. If Santa doesn't bring it for me, I'll order it for my birthday.
My generation of alumni is well-represented on the staff of Bizarro World High School. Here's the breakdown:
- My dearest Chum, class of 69
- The homecoming queen, class of 69, now a phys. ed. teacher
- A classroom teacher, class of 70, just a few weeks older than I
- Yours truly, class of 71
- Star of the football team, class of 72, also a phys. ed. teacher
The Chum put in her retirement papers yesterday. Her classmate didn't start teaching until her own kids were in school, so she doesn't have enough years in yet. Ditto the classroom teacher, with whom I actually shared a drivers' ed. car back int he day. The last guy, with whom I was in a Spanish class my junior year, is going the first minute he can, which is the year after I'm eligible, aka, the year I'm actually going, 2009.
Here's the crazy thing: there is a teacher on the staff who started there before any of the five of us were old enough to be in high school.
My best estimate is that he started 41 or 42 years ago. He was gone for about two years, I think, in the mid-sixties, when he served in Viet Nam as a Green Beret. (You can't imagine how that reputation enhances your classroom control, even when you're almost 70.) He is just not leaving yet; no one knows why. It can't be money, because with one thing or another, his pension would virtually equal his salary. He teaches, of all things, wood shop, and we all suppose he knows that once he retires, his program will be instantly abolished, if for no other reason that there are no certified wood shop teachers in the world who aren't already retired.
This is not to say that there aren't ten to fifteen people older than the Chum (but certainly younger than the Green Beret) who aren't retiring yet for one reason or another. It just amuses me that we are starting to go before one of our former teachers.
There, I said it. The Chum has put in her retirement papers.
She's really going.
