Thoughts in a morning

Tucked in between loads of laundry, rounds of Uno (it’s a rainy day), crayon drawing appreciations, a loaf of bread, and lunch, I found myself standing over the sink, washing up a few dishes. Both home kids were happily engaged in play together in their room. The kitchen was quiet, and as I scrubbed the few things in the sink, my mind wandered freely. It was a glorious few minutes, almost meditative.

Here are some of the things I contemplated.

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Yesterday’s teacher post…

I recall a look that Dr. Sheppard has, the one where she sort of smiles/not smiles and it’s clear that she thinks you’ve said something stupid. Sometimes with a raised eyebrow. Priceless. And that what made her a unique teacher was a combination of fierceness and accessibility. And then I worried that I wasn’t clear in the post that I HOPE she’s still intimidating, because I love her intimidation factor. And I’m quite certain that she still flashes that look on unsuspecting goofs she encounters. Some might use the word “withering.”

My header up there (Questions, comments, observations, miscellaneous personal abuse?) is totally stolen from Dr. Pinti. That was (is?) his signature segue. To begin a class, to transition topics, to close a discussion. It’s an interesting phrase. It invites students to seek his wisdom for clarification, or perhaps validation, and thereby reinforces his power position in the group. But it invites “comments, observations” as well, allowing for the students to feel that their viewpoint is valid or at least welcome. The “miscellaneous personal abuse” part almost never failed to get a laugh, or at least a smile from some students, which served as a relaxation point, or rapport builder. But it also admits the possibility that the teacher is not above irrational criticism. One could argue that it invites the irrational in order to immediately dismiss it. But though we frequently took the opportunity for statements and questions, no one ever took him up on the abuse offer, at least not in front of a class.

Other random directions…

Phrases and realignments of ideas for a piece about my mother that’s been rattling around in my head. * I tried to remember where I’d seen the piece about “domestic intellectuals.” (I’ve since remembered this, and hope to post about it once I’ve read through it carefully.) * And the shoes. Oh, the shoes deserve their own subheading.

The Shoes

Though it’s a rainy day, I thought about taking everyone for a walk since we’ve been sort of cooped up for a couple of days. (These kids are used to spending a significant amount of time outside, and they get a little aggravating when they don’t have that outlet for physical play.) But I immediately dismissed the thought because it would mean trying to get shoes on Child the Second. This is a task I cannot face today. A task of herculean proportions that yesterday resulted in a ninety-minute (endlessssssss) tantrum and no shoes on said child’s feet. If it weren’t so damp and windy and chilly, I’d be completely willing to let Child wear sandals or go barefoot. But since I might be guilty of some kind of dereliction of duty to let him go out in today’s weather without more substantial footcovering (not to mention that he’d likely decide very quickly that his feet were too cold), I thought sneakers were necessary. *sigh* So I wondered how I would get the shoes on his feet. Duct tape seems like a good idea. I could sort of get him down the way you see cowboys take down calves, and then put on the shoes and secure them with duct tape. Too violent? Yeah, probably. Hey, how about I just wrap his feet up in duct tape? Dry, but not much inslation factor.

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And then they ran screeching through the kitchen, the last dish was rinsed, and the morning went on.