Lee St. John's Blog, page 9
August 6, 2017
Define Stubborn
8/6/17 - It rained on Monday morning and Tuesday a bit more,
The next day the sun peeked out but then began to pour.
Thursday’s rainstorms came down hard; Friday’s an encore,
Weekend’s forecast was to shine, but gave what came before.
By: Lee St. John
All this rain makes me want to write, read (especially English novels for some reason), and play board games. We were with friends playing Scrabble not too long ago and I hope we still are friends after the night we had in their home and the fallout soon after.
Hubby and I were playing against another couple. With only four letters left, I played on a triple word score square the word ‘JIVE’. And with that move, I used ALL my letters. Hubby and I won. Game over.
Our male host was going to have none of it. He said, “There is no such word as ‘jive’.” His wife agreed with us that there was such a word. We looked to see if the word could be found in the dictionary using our iphones. And there it was. But the host retrieved his family dictionary from their book shelf, with a copyright older than 1973, and could not find it. He then pulled out the rules of the game and read them to us with this statement, “If a word cannot be found in the HOST’s dictionary, it is not a word.”
Because of this squabble, our evening came to an end. We left but I wasn’t about to let this go. The host was a very smart man and won a lot of arguments so I wondered if I could trip him up. I hatched a plan. You know the saying, “Don’t get mad; get even.”
This Scrabble-playing couple was in our dinner club and another evening of dinner and conviviality was coming up soon. Among the other four couples were our associate pastor and his wife. I called our friends and begged them to please incorporate the word ‘jive’ into their normal conversation that evening especially when chatting with our Scrabble male host. For instance, “We saw a ‘jive’ of a movie last week.” “I started ‘jiving’ when my favorite song came on my car radio.” Our pastor always blessed the food before we ate and I suggested he could say, “Bless this ‘jiving’ food.”
And they did.
I watched for any sign of the board-game-player’s face when ‘jive’ came out of the mouths of our dinner club participants without his knowledge of the ruse. Then the light bulb moment must have come on. He realized he had been had.
He looked over at me and said, “You win!”
My stubbornness and the rain have something in common.
The next day the sun peeked out but then began to pour.
Thursday’s rainstorms came down hard; Friday’s an encore,
Weekend’s forecast was to shine, but gave what came before.
By: Lee St. John
All this rain makes me want to write, read (especially English novels for some reason), and play board games. We were with friends playing Scrabble not too long ago and I hope we still are friends after the night we had in their home and the fallout soon after.
Hubby and I were playing against another couple. With only four letters left, I played on a triple word score square the word ‘JIVE’. And with that move, I used ALL my letters. Hubby and I won. Game over.
Our male host was going to have none of it. He said, “There is no such word as ‘jive’.” His wife agreed with us that there was such a word. We looked to see if the word could be found in the dictionary using our iphones. And there it was. But the host retrieved his family dictionary from their book shelf, with a copyright older than 1973, and could not find it. He then pulled out the rules of the game and read them to us with this statement, “If a word cannot be found in the HOST’s dictionary, it is not a word.”
Because of this squabble, our evening came to an end. We left but I wasn’t about to let this go. The host was a very smart man and won a lot of arguments so I wondered if I could trip him up. I hatched a plan. You know the saying, “Don’t get mad; get even.”
This Scrabble-playing couple was in our dinner club and another evening of dinner and conviviality was coming up soon. Among the other four couples were our associate pastor and his wife. I called our friends and begged them to please incorporate the word ‘jive’ into their normal conversation that evening especially when chatting with our Scrabble male host. For instance, “We saw a ‘jive’ of a movie last week.” “I started ‘jiving’ when my favorite song came on my car radio.” Our pastor always blessed the food before we ate and I suggested he could say, “Bless this ‘jiving’ food.”
And they did.
I watched for any sign of the board-game-player’s face when ‘jive’ came out of the mouths of our dinner club participants without his knowledge of the ruse. Then the light bulb moment must have come on. He realized he had been had.
He looked over at me and said, “You win!”
My stubbornness and the rain have something in common.
August 1, 2017
Presidential Pets
8/1/18 - I always said that I would stay out of the political fray. I am NOT discussing politics in these columns. I refuse to express my opinion about anything to do with our current political situation. But I am going to break that rule here and now. As far as I know, President Trump does not currently have a pet in the White House. And that just ain’t right.
From George Washington’s American Staghounds, Coonhounds, and Greyhounds, United States Presidents and their families have often had pets while serving in office. I especially like knowing about the pets and the names they were/are given and WHY, if there is a story to be told.
President Theodore Roosevelt had more than dogs while he served in office. His collection included guinea pigs, ponies, a hen, a lizard, Manchester Terrier, a blue Macaw, a garter snake, mixed breed dogs, other terriers, a small bear, a piebald rat, a badger, a regular pig, a rabbit, Mongrel, a Pekingese, a Bull terrier, cats, a hyena, a Saint Bernard, barn owl, a Chesapeake Bay Retriever, and a one-legged rooster. That sounds about right.
Do you know about the rumors surrounding Franklin Roosevelt, who in 1944 accidentally left behind his Scottish Terrier, Fala, in the Aleutian Islands where he visited? AT THE TAXPAYERS EXPENSE, he spent thousands of dollars to retrieve his dog? He explained, “You can criticize me, my wife, and my family, but you can’t criticize my little dog…” That’s good enough for me.
Other presidents who owned and loved their pets included John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison, John Tyler, James K. Polk, Zachary Taylor, Millard Fillmore, Franklin Pierce, James Buchanan, Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Johnson, Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, James A. Garfield, Chester A. Arthur, Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinley, William Howard Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, Harry S. Truman, Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama. Is that everyone?
I am not saying Trump DOESN’T have a pet in the White House, we just don’t know yet. But I hope he does. And what he might name them would be interesting. One daughter is Tiffany and a son is Barron. Would his pets names be as interesting? I had a friend who named his Golden Retriever, Midas. That might be a name he’d like.
My baby is named after a Looney Tune cartoon character. (Of course.) Who didn’t love Mel Blanc, the ONE man behind ALL the cartoon voices? Although Foghorn and Leghorn were my favorite, I couldn’t help but be impressed with his Southern Colonel, all dressed in white like KFC’s Colonel Sanders, calling his dog with his syrupy Southern accent from the front porch of his plantation home, “Oh, Belvedere! Come heah, boy!” I played the YouTube clip from that scene and Hubby and I cracked up every time we viewed that 30-second clip (during cocktail hour – of course it was funny). Belvedere was out somewhere way-far-away on the property. Hearing his master’s voice, he came a-runnin’…over bogs, under fallen tree limbs, all-the-while being distracted by squirrels and rabbits, until after some length of time he finally made his way home. But because his erratic journey took so long, the colonel gave up and went inside before his faithful companion made it to the front door. And of course, the look on Belvedere’s face was priceless – “What the…?”
So, after cocktails, we named our Schnauzer: OH! BELVEDERE! Or Obie, for short. Here’s a peek:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igMeo...
Don’t you just love learning how dogs get their names? I’d LOVE to hear about yours.
*update - it's my understanding that President Trump wants a Goldendoodle who he will name Patton.
** as a Southerner, I love President Carter's dog's name: GRITS. Adorable.
From George Washington’s American Staghounds, Coonhounds, and Greyhounds, United States Presidents and their families have often had pets while serving in office. I especially like knowing about the pets and the names they were/are given and WHY, if there is a story to be told.
President Theodore Roosevelt had more than dogs while he served in office. His collection included guinea pigs, ponies, a hen, a lizard, Manchester Terrier, a blue Macaw, a garter snake, mixed breed dogs, other terriers, a small bear, a piebald rat, a badger, a regular pig, a rabbit, Mongrel, a Pekingese, a Bull terrier, cats, a hyena, a Saint Bernard, barn owl, a Chesapeake Bay Retriever, and a one-legged rooster. That sounds about right.
Do you know about the rumors surrounding Franklin Roosevelt, who in 1944 accidentally left behind his Scottish Terrier, Fala, in the Aleutian Islands where he visited? AT THE TAXPAYERS EXPENSE, he spent thousands of dollars to retrieve his dog? He explained, “You can criticize me, my wife, and my family, but you can’t criticize my little dog…” That’s good enough for me.
Other presidents who owned and loved their pets included John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison, John Tyler, James K. Polk, Zachary Taylor, Millard Fillmore, Franklin Pierce, James Buchanan, Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Johnson, Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, James A. Garfield, Chester A. Arthur, Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinley, William Howard Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, Harry S. Truman, Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama. Is that everyone?
I am not saying Trump DOESN’T have a pet in the White House, we just don’t know yet. But I hope he does. And what he might name them would be interesting. One daughter is Tiffany and a son is Barron. Would his pets names be as interesting? I had a friend who named his Golden Retriever, Midas. That might be a name he’d like.
My baby is named after a Looney Tune cartoon character. (Of course.) Who didn’t love Mel Blanc, the ONE man behind ALL the cartoon voices? Although Foghorn and Leghorn were my favorite, I couldn’t help but be impressed with his Southern Colonel, all dressed in white like KFC’s Colonel Sanders, calling his dog with his syrupy Southern accent from the front porch of his plantation home, “Oh, Belvedere! Come heah, boy!” I played the YouTube clip from that scene and Hubby and I cracked up every time we viewed that 30-second clip (during cocktail hour – of course it was funny). Belvedere was out somewhere way-far-away on the property. Hearing his master’s voice, he came a-runnin’…over bogs, under fallen tree limbs, all-the-while being distracted by squirrels and rabbits, until after some length of time he finally made his way home. But because his erratic journey took so long, the colonel gave up and went inside before his faithful companion made it to the front door. And of course, the look on Belvedere’s face was priceless – “What the…?”
So, after cocktails, we named our Schnauzer: OH! BELVEDERE! Or Obie, for short. Here’s a peek:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igMeo...
Don’t you just love learning how dogs get their names? I’d LOVE to hear about yours.
*update - it's my understanding that President Trump wants a Goldendoodle who he will name Patton.
** as a Southerner, I love President Carter's dog's name: GRITS. Adorable.
July 24, 2017
Sucker for Facebook Tests
7/24/17 - I am a sucker for all those tests that show up on-line, mostly on Facebook, that can tell your Intellectual Quotient, your Emotional Quotient, your aura color, your top personality traits, which movie star you look like, what literary character you are most like, etc. all in 10 – 20 questions. I’m a S-U-C-K-E-R!
I have a) the highest FACEBOOK IQ, b) the most tenderhearted EQ, c) every color of the rainbow when I retake that color test for the 10th time to get a color I want because I answer the questions differently each time trying to score my favorite color, d) such a great personality I should run for office, e) Grace Kelly doppelganger, f) Scarlett O’Hara literary heroine, and g) and can score 20 on a scale of 1-10. I might as well be a Barbie Doll because she’s so perfect.
She is every career from a model to doctor. She is vintage, but yet fashionable. She dresses for all the holidays and still wears a space suit. She is thin and yet can be curvy. She is every ethnicity. She is the darling of the seas as in Ariel or she can fly on a magic carpet like Jasmine. She is expensive but also frugal. She wears designer Mattel clothes but also wears homemade frocks from Amazon, Etsy, or your favorite seamstress. She is a collector but some throw her away after her hair tangles. She might like to have a boyfriend but doesn’t need one. And she has a fast pink convertible. This girl ROCKS!
According to my on-line tests I am as fantastic as she.
And it only took a minute to answer all the questions because they were all multiple choice.
You know about multiple choice tests. “Multiple choice items consist of a stem, the correct answer, keyed alternative, and distractors. The stem is the beginning part of the item that presents the item as a problem to be solved, a question asked of the respondent, or an incomplete statement to be completed, as well as any other relevant information.” Wikipedia.
The middle schools used to have “aptitude” tests. The counselors gave these tests to gain insight into the kinds of jobs/careers students could be thinking about for their future. They gave these tests before high school so that pupils could plan on what courses they should take for either the college-prep course track diploma or the technical track diploma.
The test was dead-on when it came to my first child’s innate ability. His prognosis indicated that he was good with his hands. He is now Assistant Director, Learning Environments of labs, classroom, and collaborative spaces for Georgia State University. Fancy name for he works in IT and uses his hands.
But I think what I worry a little about is the girl sitting next to him in his 8th grade classroom taking her standardized aptitude test. When the results came in, she told our oldest child her test results. I wonder what she is doing today? Her test results told her she should either become a clown…or a mime.
I have a) the highest FACEBOOK IQ, b) the most tenderhearted EQ, c) every color of the rainbow when I retake that color test for the 10th time to get a color I want because I answer the questions differently each time trying to score my favorite color, d) such a great personality I should run for office, e) Grace Kelly doppelganger, f) Scarlett O’Hara literary heroine, and g) and can score 20 on a scale of 1-10. I might as well be a Barbie Doll because she’s so perfect.
She is every career from a model to doctor. She is vintage, but yet fashionable. She dresses for all the holidays and still wears a space suit. She is thin and yet can be curvy. She is every ethnicity. She is the darling of the seas as in Ariel or she can fly on a magic carpet like Jasmine. She is expensive but also frugal. She wears designer Mattel clothes but also wears homemade frocks from Amazon, Etsy, or your favorite seamstress. She is a collector but some throw her away after her hair tangles. She might like to have a boyfriend but doesn’t need one. And she has a fast pink convertible. This girl ROCKS!
According to my on-line tests I am as fantastic as she.
And it only took a minute to answer all the questions because they were all multiple choice.
You know about multiple choice tests. “Multiple choice items consist of a stem, the correct answer, keyed alternative, and distractors. The stem is the beginning part of the item that presents the item as a problem to be solved, a question asked of the respondent, or an incomplete statement to be completed, as well as any other relevant information.” Wikipedia.
The middle schools used to have “aptitude” tests. The counselors gave these tests to gain insight into the kinds of jobs/careers students could be thinking about for their future. They gave these tests before high school so that pupils could plan on what courses they should take for either the college-prep course track diploma or the technical track diploma.
The test was dead-on when it came to my first child’s innate ability. His prognosis indicated that he was good with his hands. He is now Assistant Director, Learning Environments of labs, classroom, and collaborative spaces for Georgia State University. Fancy name for he works in IT and uses his hands.
But I think what I worry a little about is the girl sitting next to him in his 8th grade classroom taking her standardized aptitude test. When the results came in, she told our oldest child her test results. I wonder what she is doing today? Her test results told her she should either become a clown…or a mime.
July 10, 2017
Tomato Heaven
July 10 - I. am. in. heaven. It’s fresh tomato season and I made my first purchase on the square in Newnan on 6/28/17. AND my tomato purchases will continue until the last day of anyone’s garden producing a home-grown one they are willing to sell.
I used to have my own garden. Here are my trials and errors with that: my parents were the best when producing fresh produce. We lived on 30 acres and did not have a fence surrounding our garden. I did not know about and NEVER remembered them bemoaning that deer or other vegetable eating critters ruined all their hard work. My father’s name was DARDEN and they called their creation Darden’s Garden. We had lots of other yields from it: corn, okra, spring onions, butter peas, marigolds, and more.
I remembered picking and shelling peas with my mother. My aunt came over to help and then received her gifts from the garden. Then mother, my aunt, and I went to the cannery in our county (although she used glass Bell jars). Later, mother boiled those jars in our house herself and sealed the goodies. Jars and jars of sterilized-then-sealed butterbeans, corn, onions, tomatoes, okra cooked down in their own juices could be found in her kitchen cabinets just waiting for winter to arrive when potatoes would be added for vegetable soup. Don’t forget the cornbread!
I couldn’t be the farmers my parents were but I did try my hand with my first backyard garden on my 1.3 plot here in Newnan. I planted tomatoes and put up a fence around them to keep out our deer guests but I guess it wasn’t high enough as our visitors would stick their heads over and would nibble at their early morning breakfast. The next year I put up a higher fence and moved the produce further away from the fence since they preferred what I valued. That worked better. But trying to weed around the harvest in that chicken wire fence proved difficult.
Then I scaled back and only planted my tomatoes – BIG BOYS VARIETY! – in containers on my deck. That worked pretty well and I even felt smug when a girlfriend wrote on Facebook about her disgust of deer somehow getting into her tomato plants even with all the armor surrounding her vegetable garden. I laughed and laughed that day she posted that fiasco thinking, “That won’t happen to me. I am smart. No deer is going to climb up my steps to my deck and eat my tomatoes. Ha, ha, ha!”
The next morning I woke up to find that I didn’t have to worry about the deer eating my plants but something with big teeth shaped like rabbits’ choppers had taken just ONE bite out of every single one of my tomatoes. Since it wasn’t rabbits hopping up those 20+ steps, I didn’t know what in the world climbed up my stairs to reach the top deck where my planters were. Somebody tell me! Raccoon? Whatever it was it (they) ruined every ripe one (that I was giving ONE MORE DAY until perfection) with those teeth marks.
“Best laid plans of mice and men.”
I got out of the tomato business and left the it to the professionals. Although it would be nice to watch tomatoes sprout up on a daily basis, I just didn’t want to give those visiting my deck the privilege of snacks. Forage on your own. I feed birds in the winter but I didn’t need a new pet taking the most precious of precious tomatoes from me.
So, with my cherished purchase from Wednesday’s downtown Farmer’s Market, I had my first tomato. In a sandwich? Nope. Not the first bite of the season: just a little salt, pepper, and mayo. And so it begins for a couple of months. Summer is here!
Next time, we’ll discuss which mayonnaise to add. Besides the goodness of the fresh tomato, it’s all about the mayo, too, right?
I used to have my own garden. Here are my trials and errors with that: my parents were the best when producing fresh produce. We lived on 30 acres and did not have a fence surrounding our garden. I did not know about and NEVER remembered them bemoaning that deer or other vegetable eating critters ruined all their hard work. My father’s name was DARDEN and they called their creation Darden’s Garden. We had lots of other yields from it: corn, okra, spring onions, butter peas, marigolds, and more.
I remembered picking and shelling peas with my mother. My aunt came over to help and then received her gifts from the garden. Then mother, my aunt, and I went to the cannery in our county (although she used glass Bell jars). Later, mother boiled those jars in our house herself and sealed the goodies. Jars and jars of sterilized-then-sealed butterbeans, corn, onions, tomatoes, okra cooked down in their own juices could be found in her kitchen cabinets just waiting for winter to arrive when potatoes would be added for vegetable soup. Don’t forget the cornbread!
I couldn’t be the farmers my parents were but I did try my hand with my first backyard garden on my 1.3 plot here in Newnan. I planted tomatoes and put up a fence around them to keep out our deer guests but I guess it wasn’t high enough as our visitors would stick their heads over and would nibble at their early morning breakfast. The next year I put up a higher fence and moved the produce further away from the fence since they preferred what I valued. That worked better. But trying to weed around the harvest in that chicken wire fence proved difficult.
Then I scaled back and only planted my tomatoes – BIG BOYS VARIETY! – in containers on my deck. That worked pretty well and I even felt smug when a girlfriend wrote on Facebook about her disgust of deer somehow getting into her tomato plants even with all the armor surrounding her vegetable garden. I laughed and laughed that day she posted that fiasco thinking, “That won’t happen to me. I am smart. No deer is going to climb up my steps to my deck and eat my tomatoes. Ha, ha, ha!”
The next morning I woke up to find that I didn’t have to worry about the deer eating my plants but something with big teeth shaped like rabbits’ choppers had taken just ONE bite out of every single one of my tomatoes. Since it wasn’t rabbits hopping up those 20+ steps, I didn’t know what in the world climbed up my stairs to reach the top deck where my planters were. Somebody tell me! Raccoon? Whatever it was it (they) ruined every ripe one (that I was giving ONE MORE DAY until perfection) with those teeth marks.
“Best laid plans of mice and men.”
I got out of the tomato business and left the it to the professionals. Although it would be nice to watch tomatoes sprout up on a daily basis, I just didn’t want to give those visiting my deck the privilege of snacks. Forage on your own. I feed birds in the winter but I didn’t need a new pet taking the most precious of precious tomatoes from me.
So, with my cherished purchase from Wednesday’s downtown Farmer’s Market, I had my first tomato. In a sandwich? Nope. Not the first bite of the season: just a little salt, pepper, and mayo. And so it begins for a couple of months. Summer is here!
Next time, we’ll discuss which mayonnaise to add. Besides the goodness of the fresh tomato, it’s all about the mayo, too, right?
July 3, 2017
'Miss Right' or 'Miss Right Now?'
July 2, 2017 - Over the years, June has been the traditional month for weddings. Hubby and I recently attended a destination wedding in Highlands, North Carolina. Destination weddings are hot. Maybe they have always been but it seems more so these days.
With the evening wedding ceremonies conducted and the reception fun over, the “old timers” had some down time the next morning at a brunch for the out-of-town guests. We shared memories of how WE first met our spouses. The GROOM’S DAD told this one about a friend of his:
A college buddy was enjoying the fruits of youthful behavior at a local bar in Atlanta with other carousing friends. They were having such a good time, in fact, that one of the guys fell off a bar stool and broke his leg.
Luckily for them, Piedmont Hospital was just down Peachtree Street so they gathered up this broken friend, placed him in the car, and headed for the hospital’s emergency entrance. While there, they rose to the occasion and answered all questions posed by the doctors on call about the accident. They were serious and forthcoming about the details of the incident.
But when their injured pal was admitted to the back room for more examinations, they were left out of that trip and were waiting around in the hospital emergency room lobby for more news regarding their companion. Now these young bucks had responsibly done their duty and all that was left of them was to wait it out and bring their friend home. So, what would a young man after a night of drinking do to kill time in a hospital waiting room?
They all started flirting with the nurses.
GROOM’S DAD’s friend was especially enamored with one of the RN’s. Even though she was working, he chatted with her when he could during her night shift. He thought he made a good impression but knew he couldn’t make a real move because she was busy.
So, the next day, he called the hospital, was put through to the Emergency Room, asked someone who answered the phone to help him find this adorable gal he had met and tried to impress. He gave the caller her description in detail (or what he remembered). The medical assistant on the phone said, “Oh, NURSE BETTY? Yes, she was on duty here last night.”
He asked to speak to NURSE BETTY. Eventually she was able to answer the phone and talk to the GROOM’S DAD’s friend. He flirted some more with his witty words and asked her if she remembered their conversation from the night before. He was sure she would recall their exchange because he had done his best to make an impression. Yet, she didn’t. She explained that it was a very busy night at the hospital and she just didn’t recollect some of the things he was reiterating.
He wanted to meet her and he mentioned could they get-together for a drink at Harrison’s on Peachtree Street (ironically the bar where the accident occurred)? He described what he would be wearing so she could find him easily.
The nurse walked in, saw this young man by his depiction, sat down at his table, and the first words out of his mouth were, “You’re the wrong one.”
He and “the wrong one” have been married almost 40 years.
Hope you June brides have as good a story to tell as this one.
With the evening wedding ceremonies conducted and the reception fun over, the “old timers” had some down time the next morning at a brunch for the out-of-town guests. We shared memories of how WE first met our spouses. The GROOM’S DAD told this one about a friend of his:
A college buddy was enjoying the fruits of youthful behavior at a local bar in Atlanta with other carousing friends. They were having such a good time, in fact, that one of the guys fell off a bar stool and broke his leg.
Luckily for them, Piedmont Hospital was just down Peachtree Street so they gathered up this broken friend, placed him in the car, and headed for the hospital’s emergency entrance. While there, they rose to the occasion and answered all questions posed by the doctors on call about the accident. They were serious and forthcoming about the details of the incident.
But when their injured pal was admitted to the back room for more examinations, they were left out of that trip and were waiting around in the hospital emergency room lobby for more news regarding their companion. Now these young bucks had responsibly done their duty and all that was left of them was to wait it out and bring their friend home. So, what would a young man after a night of drinking do to kill time in a hospital waiting room?
They all started flirting with the nurses.
GROOM’S DAD’s friend was especially enamored with one of the RN’s. Even though she was working, he chatted with her when he could during her night shift. He thought he made a good impression but knew he couldn’t make a real move because she was busy.
So, the next day, he called the hospital, was put through to the Emergency Room, asked someone who answered the phone to help him find this adorable gal he had met and tried to impress. He gave the caller her description in detail (or what he remembered). The medical assistant on the phone said, “Oh, NURSE BETTY? Yes, she was on duty here last night.”
He asked to speak to NURSE BETTY. Eventually she was able to answer the phone and talk to the GROOM’S DAD’s friend. He flirted some more with his witty words and asked her if she remembered their conversation from the night before. He was sure she would recall their exchange because he had done his best to make an impression. Yet, she didn’t. She explained that it was a very busy night at the hospital and she just didn’t recollect some of the things he was reiterating.
He wanted to meet her and he mentioned could they get-together for a drink at Harrison’s on Peachtree Street (ironically the bar where the accident occurred)? He described what he would be wearing so she could find him easily.
The nurse walked in, saw this young man by his depiction, sat down at his table, and the first words out of his mouth were, “You’re the wrong one.”
He and “the wrong one” have been married almost 40 years.
Hope you June brides have as good a story to tell as this one.
June 23, 2017
Rubber Ducky
6/23/17 -
Rubber Ducky
With our boys being eight years apart, a lot of new baby inventions made caring for our second child (THE SPARE) easier than the first (THE HEIR). I’ve used these pseudonyms so as not to embarrass them even more that I already have. I got the idea from the British press who named the royal family’s two boys, William and Harry, the same. I followed suit.
THE HEIR arrived in 1985. With a first child, we had the best of everything the first time around. Our Amish wooden high chair was no different. Do you know how hard it was to rub off caked-on food from the wood on that high chair? The slats were the worst. I should have just gotten one with the plastic tray. But, ohhh, nooo! We had to have the best for the first born. Dropping a pacifier on the ground was certainly a biggie as you either boiled it later to sterilize it before using it again, or worse, just threw it away. Germs! No 3-second rule. It was damaged goods. You better have brought a ton of passies with you everywhere you went because they were eventually going to fall out of your baby’s mouth.
The sippy cup in 1986 was like a hard plastic ball cut in half with a spout on top that twisted off and handles on each side of the bottom half. After filling it with juice, you screwed the spout top part to the bottom half part and hoped that your child never dropped it. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. They dropped it, they threw it, and they even stepped on it. The top part popped off from this wear and tear and there was spilled juice all over the kitchen floor. YUCK!
But a new invention came along by the time THE SPARE arrived. This modern sippy cup had a new mechanism that used springs which held the top on better and when dropped, the top of the cup stayed on and didn’t cause a mess. I LOVED it! I was more relaxed with the second child, too. If his pacifier dropped on the ground, I just wiped it against my slacks and stuck that sucker right back in from where it fell out. Dirt has nutrients, right?
And I solved my messy high chair dinner situation, too. Wasn’t bath time always after dinner? I learned a new trick. I placed THE SPARE in the tub in his light blue BABY BATH TUB RING seat that had 4 suction cups and fed him then and there. Yep. Right in the tub. It was a contained mess. Afterward, I just sprayed and washed him off. Problem solved. It was a 2-fer!
But I did worry later that since he ate so many meals in the tub before and during bath time (sometimes I just put him in the tub to feed him even if I wasn’t giving him a bath), that like the conditioning of Pavlov’s dog, when THE SPARE grew up he might feel hungry and crave food every time he bathed and he’d wonder why.
Rubber Ducky
With our boys being eight years apart, a lot of new baby inventions made caring for our second child (THE SPARE) easier than the first (THE HEIR). I’ve used these pseudonyms so as not to embarrass them even more that I already have. I got the idea from the British press who named the royal family’s two boys, William and Harry, the same. I followed suit.
THE HEIR arrived in 1985. With a first child, we had the best of everything the first time around. Our Amish wooden high chair was no different. Do you know how hard it was to rub off caked-on food from the wood on that high chair? The slats were the worst. I should have just gotten one with the plastic tray. But, ohhh, nooo! We had to have the best for the first born. Dropping a pacifier on the ground was certainly a biggie as you either boiled it later to sterilize it before using it again, or worse, just threw it away. Germs! No 3-second rule. It was damaged goods. You better have brought a ton of passies with you everywhere you went because they were eventually going to fall out of your baby’s mouth.
The sippy cup in 1986 was like a hard plastic ball cut in half with a spout on top that twisted off and handles on each side of the bottom half. After filling it with juice, you screwed the spout top part to the bottom half part and hoped that your child never dropped it. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. They dropped it, they threw it, and they even stepped on it. The top part popped off from this wear and tear and there was spilled juice all over the kitchen floor. YUCK!
But a new invention came along by the time THE SPARE arrived. This modern sippy cup had a new mechanism that used springs which held the top on better and when dropped, the top of the cup stayed on and didn’t cause a mess. I LOVED it! I was more relaxed with the second child, too. If his pacifier dropped on the ground, I just wiped it against my slacks and stuck that sucker right back in from where it fell out. Dirt has nutrients, right?
And I solved my messy high chair dinner situation, too. Wasn’t bath time always after dinner? I learned a new trick. I placed THE SPARE in the tub in his light blue BABY BATH TUB RING seat that had 4 suction cups and fed him then and there. Yep. Right in the tub. It was a contained mess. Afterward, I just sprayed and washed him off. Problem solved. It was a 2-fer!
But I did worry later that since he ate so many meals in the tub before and during bath time (sometimes I just put him in the tub to feed him even if I wasn’t giving him a bath), that like the conditioning of Pavlov’s dog, when THE SPARE grew up he might feel hungry and crave food every time he bathed and he’d wonder why.
June 16, 2017
A BRAVE NEW WORLD
6/17/2017 - Hubby and I recently took a little weekend getaway with our oldest son and his girlfriend. They are MILLENNIALS. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, this age group number was 83.1 million and we went with 2 of them to Asheville, North Carolina.
We are 64 and BABY BOOMERS. There are generational differences, I guess you’ve heard.
The trip was really different. I enjoyed our expedition but I experienced several firsts (I will put an asterisk beside the firsts).
1. We drove and Hubby and I took our car. It is bigger. They BOTH drive small Volkswagons. They really don’t drive their cars much. Living in Reynoldstown in Atlanta, they catch MARTA to go to work. So, we drove.
2. Another reason we drove is because oldest wanted to take his boxer. We LOVE our grand dog and have kept him many (MANY) times while our son traveled. Not just short jaunts here or there, but big jaunts – South Africa, New Zealand, Iceland, Europe, Hawaii, etc. Millennials like to travel if they can. And when they travel they stay in hostels, AirBNB, or outside. Millennials are fond of camping (and so are their pets). So, we took his dog.
3. Because we took his dog, we stayed in an AirBNB*. We rented an entire house. The description said pet-friendly. The owner even left his cat, Bruce, to hang around. Luckily for the cat, the grand dog gets along with felines. There was only one bathroom though. I would have picked a place with two. One bathroom didn’t seem to matter much to son who selected the place. Remember, he loves camping. But there was a fenced-in back yard to let the dog out without supervision at all times. So, as I said, we stayed in a one bathroom, AirBNB whole house for the dog.
4. Our entire entertainment involved visiting Asheville’s breweries and pubs. Because son and Hubby have a common hobby – brewing their own homemade beer – this was the point, really, of the entire trip. Millennials’ love their beer. I have become quite fond of the craft beers. But when you’ve seen one mash tun, you’ve seen them all. (That’s how Hubby feels about trips to countries with castles). With outdoor seating, some brew pubs welcomed dogs. So, as I said, we went to outdoor breweries for the dog.
The AirBNB house did not have regular TV like your would find in most of our homes. Some Millennials (like our renter who is one, too) do not even have a TV and watch media over the Internet using smartphone, tablets, or a monitor connected to their internet. Luckily our son has the same media setup so he knew how to operate the remote. We also used our iphones a lot. Remember, this group was the first to grow up with computers in their homes and the first generation of kids to grow up with the Internet.
Because we were visiting brew pubs close in proximity, we walked everywhere. Son made sure our rental was near the action in downtown Asheville. We also walked to an outdoor concert sponsored by a brewing company that gives their proceeds to cities to enhance bicycle paths. Millennials appreciate GREEN causes.
5. If we were over served, we called UBER*. We called UBER.
It was a grand weekend exploring Asheville through our Millennials eyes. It was worth what we shelled out to pay for the trip (Oopps – did I just say that? Well, son did pay for all the expensive craft beer he wanted us to try). We enjoyed being with him and his girl even if we couldn’t discuss politics – Hubby and I had already learned that lesson.
“In 2016, the Pew Research Center found that Millennials surpassed Baby Boomers to become the largest living generation in the United States.” – Wikipedia. If by the standards of the U.S. Census Bureau and based on Pew's definition of the generation which ranges from 1981 to 1997, we Boomers only total 74.9 million to their 83.1 million.
It’s a brave new world.
We are 64 and BABY BOOMERS. There are generational differences, I guess you’ve heard.
The trip was really different. I enjoyed our expedition but I experienced several firsts (I will put an asterisk beside the firsts).
1. We drove and Hubby and I took our car. It is bigger. They BOTH drive small Volkswagons. They really don’t drive their cars much. Living in Reynoldstown in Atlanta, they catch MARTA to go to work. So, we drove.
2. Another reason we drove is because oldest wanted to take his boxer. We LOVE our grand dog and have kept him many (MANY) times while our son traveled. Not just short jaunts here or there, but big jaunts – South Africa, New Zealand, Iceland, Europe, Hawaii, etc. Millennials like to travel if they can. And when they travel they stay in hostels, AirBNB, or outside. Millennials are fond of camping (and so are their pets). So, we took his dog.
3. Because we took his dog, we stayed in an AirBNB*. We rented an entire house. The description said pet-friendly. The owner even left his cat, Bruce, to hang around. Luckily for the cat, the grand dog gets along with felines. There was only one bathroom though. I would have picked a place with two. One bathroom didn’t seem to matter much to son who selected the place. Remember, he loves camping. But there was a fenced-in back yard to let the dog out without supervision at all times. So, as I said, we stayed in a one bathroom, AirBNB whole house for the dog.
4. Our entire entertainment involved visiting Asheville’s breweries and pubs. Because son and Hubby have a common hobby – brewing their own homemade beer – this was the point, really, of the entire trip. Millennials’ love their beer. I have become quite fond of the craft beers. But when you’ve seen one mash tun, you’ve seen them all. (That’s how Hubby feels about trips to countries with castles). With outdoor seating, some brew pubs welcomed dogs. So, as I said, we went to outdoor breweries for the dog.
The AirBNB house did not have regular TV like your would find in most of our homes. Some Millennials (like our renter who is one, too) do not even have a TV and watch media over the Internet using smartphone, tablets, or a monitor connected to their internet. Luckily our son has the same media setup so he knew how to operate the remote. We also used our iphones a lot. Remember, this group was the first to grow up with computers in their homes and the first generation of kids to grow up with the Internet.
Because we were visiting brew pubs close in proximity, we walked everywhere. Son made sure our rental was near the action in downtown Asheville. We also walked to an outdoor concert sponsored by a brewing company that gives their proceeds to cities to enhance bicycle paths. Millennials appreciate GREEN causes.
5. If we were over served, we called UBER*. We called UBER.
It was a grand weekend exploring Asheville through our Millennials eyes. It was worth what we shelled out to pay for the trip (Oopps – did I just say that? Well, son did pay for all the expensive craft beer he wanted us to try). We enjoyed being with him and his girl even if we couldn’t discuss politics – Hubby and I had already learned that lesson.
“In 2016, the Pew Research Center found that Millennials surpassed Baby Boomers to become the largest living generation in the United States.” – Wikipedia. If by the standards of the U.S. Census Bureau and based on Pew's definition of the generation which ranges from 1981 to 1997, we Boomers only total 74.9 million to their 83.1 million.
It’s a brave new world.
June 6, 2017
Graduation - Who Could It Be?
6/6/17
It’s graduation weekend. Area high schools are gearing up for their pomp and circumstance, the name taken from Act III, Scene 3 of Shakespeare's Othello:
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th'ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
I was a high school English teacher. I know things like this.
So you’d think I’d be reputable, right? Let me tell you a story which I heard about in the 1960’s. Take your pick: a fabrication, a myth, or an urban legend. Whatever it is, this story was told to me as truth. And when it came to extremely smart, bored, mischievous students’ hi-jinx in the 1960’s at the University of Georgia, I believed it.
UGA is the flagship school for the state of Georgia. It is big. BIG! It’s always had a huge enrollment. Today its enrollment is over 36,000. You had better have some self-control to attend there. It could eat you up and spit you out if you weren’t disciplined enough.
I’d always known that the really, really smart genius type of students had their own kind of pranks. Today they might hack into computers, but in the 1960’s they were pulling different escapades. Still shocking but in this instance not harmful to others.
And here it is: A group of boys created a phantom student, a non-real, yet class attending, test-taking undergraduate. Now I can’t tell you specifics, but this made-up-pupil enrolled, was accepted, paid tuition, and graduated in 4 years. I don’t know WHO these devil-may-care creators were, I don’t know how many were involved to pull this prank off, but I heard that at the end of four years, this student, whose name I forgot but very similar to the name, Alfred E. Neuman from MAD Magazine, was this figment of their imagination.
They could get away with it at the time because enrollment and test taking was all done with a #2 pencil and scan sheets. If one enrolled in a general education core class or a popular major where the classes met in large auditoriums, the professors at the time were not able to identify students or track them as easily. This ruse went on for four years. The guys pooled their money and paid for this hallucination’s education.
The tricksters may have duplicated their efforts if they themselves were in a certain major, let’s say a general business major, to pull this off. Take two tests at one time with a student number they made up from the beginning. It was possible.
And when graduation came, a diploma was waiting for this mirage. His name was called and called and no such person responded on stage to receive it. Those who initiated this spoof had a grand time knowing they pulled it off.
You don’t have to believe it if you don’t want.
It’s graduation weekend. Area high schools are gearing up for their pomp and circumstance, the name taken from Act III, Scene 3 of Shakespeare's Othello:
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th'ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
I was a high school English teacher. I know things like this.
So you’d think I’d be reputable, right? Let me tell you a story which I heard about in the 1960’s. Take your pick: a fabrication, a myth, or an urban legend. Whatever it is, this story was told to me as truth. And when it came to extremely smart, bored, mischievous students’ hi-jinx in the 1960’s at the University of Georgia, I believed it.
UGA is the flagship school for the state of Georgia. It is big. BIG! It’s always had a huge enrollment. Today its enrollment is over 36,000. You had better have some self-control to attend there. It could eat you up and spit you out if you weren’t disciplined enough.
I’d always known that the really, really smart genius type of students had their own kind of pranks. Today they might hack into computers, but in the 1960’s they were pulling different escapades. Still shocking but in this instance not harmful to others.
And here it is: A group of boys created a phantom student, a non-real, yet class attending, test-taking undergraduate. Now I can’t tell you specifics, but this made-up-pupil enrolled, was accepted, paid tuition, and graduated in 4 years. I don’t know WHO these devil-may-care creators were, I don’t know how many were involved to pull this prank off, but I heard that at the end of four years, this student, whose name I forgot but very similar to the name, Alfred E. Neuman from MAD Magazine, was this figment of their imagination.
They could get away with it at the time because enrollment and test taking was all done with a #2 pencil and scan sheets. If one enrolled in a general education core class or a popular major where the classes met in large auditoriums, the professors at the time were not able to identify students or track them as easily. This ruse went on for four years. The guys pooled their money and paid for this hallucination’s education.
The tricksters may have duplicated their efforts if they themselves were in a certain major, let’s say a general business major, to pull this off. Take two tests at one time with a student number they made up from the beginning. It was possible.
And when graduation came, a diploma was waiting for this mirage. His name was called and called and no such person responded on stage to receive it. Those who initiated this spoof had a grand time knowing they pulled it off.
You don’t have to believe it if you don’t want.
May 22, 2017
Corn Dog Sticks
May 22, 2017
It started with Kindergarten Open House. My youngest and I were visiting his classroom and meeting his teacher before the first day of school.
And I was horrified.
She was supposed to be the best teacher in Kindergarten. She had been a teacher in the building for several years but in another curriculum. This was her first year teaching 5-year-old- students and I could tell already we were not going to have a good year.
I taught pre-school for my church’s kindergarten program. We used these supplies: pencils, crayons, colored pencils, washable markers, regular markers, glue sticks, tape, pencil sharpener, pens, play dough, food coloring, sequins, glitter, stamp pads, sticky Velcro, dry markers, etc. which could all be used in science-art-writing-math-based lessons. Am I right? Of course I am.
So what does one wear to conduct all these tactile lessons? NOT hose, high heels, and a fancy dress. I don’t care if it IS an open house. Dress as the teacher you want to personify…someone who came to TEACH. This was not the evening for parents. This was the CHILDREN’S Open House.
I wanted someone who was going to cuddle my snot-nosed child and make him feel good about himself. Someone nurturing who might sit on the floor and get dirty with these 5-year olds. Someone who knew how to channel boys’ frolicsome behaviors. Someone who understood squirrelly boys who couldn’t sit still. And it wasn’t this teacher. I knew just by her appearance, she wasn’t going to be hands-on.
I am an only daughter, so I can say this: having a female child is way different than boys. I am not saying easier, just different. And her only child was a daughter.
I received notes home about our son’s antics almost every day: “Your child stepped on another boy’s shoelaces in the hall.” “Your child did not come back from the playground after recess fast enough.” But the real clincher was, “Your child put his corndog sticks up his nose at lunch.” Really?
As a former high school teacher, what if I wrote a note home about some of my students’ behaviors? “Your 10th grader blew his nose too loudly five times during the exam that we took which might have disturbed the other students and caused concentration problems.” “Your child was flirting with another girl in class when everyone in the school clearly knows that he is going steady with Pat Ann, the most popular girl in 11th grade and is a possible future Homecoming Queen, which would absolutely break her heart if she knew.” “Your 8th child came to school this morning with a suck bump (hickey) on his neck. We just thought you should know.”
My own mother, a former teacher for 37 years, commented, “Who has time to write that many notes every day and who is watching those other students when she does?”
As a Mama Bear, I finally wrote back:
“Dear Teacher,
You pointed out our son’s behavior at lunch. I would like to put things in perspective. At least they were HIS corndog sticks and HIS nose.”
There were worse things in life.
It started with Kindergarten Open House. My youngest and I were visiting his classroom and meeting his teacher before the first day of school.
And I was horrified.
She was supposed to be the best teacher in Kindergarten. She had been a teacher in the building for several years but in another curriculum. This was her first year teaching 5-year-old- students and I could tell already we were not going to have a good year.
I taught pre-school for my church’s kindergarten program. We used these supplies: pencils, crayons, colored pencils, washable markers, regular markers, glue sticks, tape, pencil sharpener, pens, play dough, food coloring, sequins, glitter, stamp pads, sticky Velcro, dry markers, etc. which could all be used in science-art-writing-math-based lessons. Am I right? Of course I am.
So what does one wear to conduct all these tactile lessons? NOT hose, high heels, and a fancy dress. I don’t care if it IS an open house. Dress as the teacher you want to personify…someone who came to TEACH. This was not the evening for parents. This was the CHILDREN’S Open House.
I wanted someone who was going to cuddle my snot-nosed child and make him feel good about himself. Someone nurturing who might sit on the floor and get dirty with these 5-year olds. Someone who knew how to channel boys’ frolicsome behaviors. Someone who understood squirrelly boys who couldn’t sit still. And it wasn’t this teacher. I knew just by her appearance, she wasn’t going to be hands-on.
I am an only daughter, so I can say this: having a female child is way different than boys. I am not saying easier, just different. And her only child was a daughter.
I received notes home about our son’s antics almost every day: “Your child stepped on another boy’s shoelaces in the hall.” “Your child did not come back from the playground after recess fast enough.” But the real clincher was, “Your child put his corndog sticks up his nose at lunch.” Really?
As a former high school teacher, what if I wrote a note home about some of my students’ behaviors? “Your 10th grader blew his nose too loudly five times during the exam that we took which might have disturbed the other students and caused concentration problems.” “Your child was flirting with another girl in class when everyone in the school clearly knows that he is going steady with Pat Ann, the most popular girl in 11th grade and is a possible future Homecoming Queen, which would absolutely break her heart if she knew.” “Your 8th child came to school this morning with a suck bump (hickey) on his neck. We just thought you should know.”
My own mother, a former teacher for 37 years, commented, “Who has time to write that many notes every day and who is watching those other students when she does?”
As a Mama Bear, I finally wrote back:
“Dear Teacher,
You pointed out our son’s behavior at lunch. I would like to put things in perspective. At least they were HIS corndog sticks and HIS nose.”
There were worse things in life.
March 21, 2017
Testing, Testing 3/21/17
Winter Break is over and students have settled into their school routine once again. The county school calendar is divided into 2 semesters or 18 weeks each. With one semester down (ended before Christmas) this second semester is about half over. That means there are only about 9 more weeks left until summer. Just 9 weeks! This doesn’t include Spring Break in April.
And here at the mid-point of the second semester, testing is not uncommon. No one looks forward to tests – students (because they have to take them) or teachers (because they have to grade them). Being an English teacher is not easy when it comes to grading. Essays, remember? I used to jokingly say, “I wonder if the more wine I drink while grading these essays if their grades will improve?”
Another hardship on an English teacher during the year and especially at mid-term testing was the copying machine that would break down at the most inopportune time. And it just didn’t break down for an hour. Sometimes it was days. Somebody had to call the company to send someone out to fix it. And by fix it, I mean that took all day, too. One couldn’t wait to see the taped sign that said, “NOT WORKING!” taken off the top of the machine. By the time it was removed, there was mold on it.
Before the copier, we used the mimeograph machine (often abbreviated to mimeo) and it was a low-cost duplicating machine that worked by forcing ink through a stencil onto paper. I loved that smell of that ink running through the machine. Not for long lengths of time, though. I heard one could get high from the smell by the overuse of the machine. I used to jokingly say, “I wonder if I smell more of this purple ink while running off these tests if their grades will improve?”
Did I mention bathroom duty? My pre-21st century schools had us rotate bathroom duty assignments. I could never, EVER eat my lunch in the girls’ bathroom during duty time like one teacher I know who did. She scooted a desk in there and plopped her cafeteria tray on top of it and dug in.
Also, one of my teacher girlfriends left public school teaching and was hired at Westminster private school in Atlanta. She and I kept up and she would report to me that she did still have high school bus and bathroom duty but that it wasn’t for the obvious reasons of keeping order: it was because they didn’t want any of their students kidnapped from that hoity-toity priced school. Those were the kids with the million-dollar last names.
There was at least one kind of testing that was done in schools that didn’t include grades. It was called an aptitude test. At the end of the middle school years and before attending high school, the counselors wanted to know what track a student might favor because of their aptitude…think college is in your future? Technical training? This would be helpful to know so the guidance office could help guide the student into the right classes to be successful.
My oldest took his aptitude test near the end of 8th grade. When the results came in it mentioned that he was good with his hands. I am going to leave that description alone except to say that he is in a career now doing just that…Information Technology. But this test gave him different choices to think about. It encouraged him to consider being a butcher or an air-conditioner repairman.
However, the real clincher was what the girl sitting next to him in class received on her test results. What possibly could have been the ANSWERS on her test to recommend these two jobs: either a clown or a mime?
And here at the mid-point of the second semester, testing is not uncommon. No one looks forward to tests – students (because they have to take them) or teachers (because they have to grade them). Being an English teacher is not easy when it comes to grading. Essays, remember? I used to jokingly say, “I wonder if the more wine I drink while grading these essays if their grades will improve?”
Another hardship on an English teacher during the year and especially at mid-term testing was the copying machine that would break down at the most inopportune time. And it just didn’t break down for an hour. Sometimes it was days. Somebody had to call the company to send someone out to fix it. And by fix it, I mean that took all day, too. One couldn’t wait to see the taped sign that said, “NOT WORKING!” taken off the top of the machine. By the time it was removed, there was mold on it.
Before the copier, we used the mimeograph machine (often abbreviated to mimeo) and it was a low-cost duplicating machine that worked by forcing ink through a stencil onto paper. I loved that smell of that ink running through the machine. Not for long lengths of time, though. I heard one could get high from the smell by the overuse of the machine. I used to jokingly say, “I wonder if I smell more of this purple ink while running off these tests if their grades will improve?”
Did I mention bathroom duty? My pre-21st century schools had us rotate bathroom duty assignments. I could never, EVER eat my lunch in the girls’ bathroom during duty time like one teacher I know who did. She scooted a desk in there and plopped her cafeteria tray on top of it and dug in.
Also, one of my teacher girlfriends left public school teaching and was hired at Westminster private school in Atlanta. She and I kept up and she would report to me that she did still have high school bus and bathroom duty but that it wasn’t for the obvious reasons of keeping order: it was because they didn’t want any of their students kidnapped from that hoity-toity priced school. Those were the kids with the million-dollar last names.
There was at least one kind of testing that was done in schools that didn’t include grades. It was called an aptitude test. At the end of the middle school years and before attending high school, the counselors wanted to know what track a student might favor because of their aptitude…think college is in your future? Technical training? This would be helpful to know so the guidance office could help guide the student into the right classes to be successful.
My oldest took his aptitude test near the end of 8th grade. When the results came in it mentioned that he was good with his hands. I am going to leave that description alone except to say that he is in a career now doing just that…Information Technology. But this test gave him different choices to think about. It encouraged him to consider being a butcher or an air-conditioner repairman.
However, the real clincher was what the girl sitting next to him in class received on her test results. What possibly could have been the ANSWERS on her test to recommend these two jobs: either a clown or a mime?
