The paints have been put away, the cubbies labeled, the dried out markers tossed, and the mirrors cleaned off. Teachers walked around in a daze as if we couldn’t imagine the place filled with children, it seemed impossible that all of this might actually mean something or have an end to it. In the lunch room angry conversations over the New Orleans tragedy ebbed and flowed and than we returned to our classrooms and worked some more. We fret, some of us met with the parents of kids with learning disabilities.
Home visits are finally over…out of the 17 children, probably 15 had views of the water–or at least of Ballard. It got to the point where we actually enjoyed the more modest homes over the mansions…refreshing. On Thursday I visited six homes, went eight hours without eating, and silently got carsick while driving all over Seattle. By the time we visited the little girl who started every single sentence with “and you know what?” I was shaking. I came home and lay down for a full hour.
The spot where they stuck me with tuberculosis turns red and irritated. It hurts and is uncomfortable. The nurse spends a full five minutes feeling my arm up, looking for a lump under the skin–a sign of exposure and expulsion from the school. I am lucky. No tuberculosis…just an angry arm–and I can keep my job!
I received my free bus pass through the school and rejoiced. On the bus ride to school and back I am glued to NPR, it becomes a nice way to zone out and enjoy the ride. I gain all my current events info. this way and manage to avoid the random crazies on the metro.
Somehow, we find ourselves in Old Navy again…a place I find to be truly hit or miss. Maybe it’s the subconscious knowledge that the clothing is obviously put together by eight-year-olds and machines, it weighs heavily over the store like a fog. I also know that everything is made poorly, for easy disposal after the trend has died. OK, even I was swayed by the commercial of the girls running into the field and pulling out colored corduroys in vegetable shapes…suddenly, I thought: Hey, maybe I want a pair of corduroys. I thought they looked pretty cute in the commercial. I showed up to Old Navy and the cords are generically hanging in militant rows, their colors vast and varied. Suddenly, I realized that everyone will be wearing corduroys this Fall, and it will take a lot of effort to look like this was not planned. I don’t want to look like everyone else, and I’m not sure I can accessories the cords away. Plus, it’s so crowded there is no way I could try anything on so I ditched the corduroy idea and got all excited over four pairs of socks for ten bucks. Yes!