It all began with this text from my principal. I was at home on a union executive committee ZOOM at 3:30pm on Wednesday. I had been on a ZOOM with her and my grade-level team just over an hour earlier and I thought it was pretty obvious from my classroom-at-home background that I was at home — lavender-painted walls (not my choice), twinkly fairy lights, metal car oil drain pan-cum magnetic “bulletin board” with number lines, alphabet lines, Fundations sound card pocket chart, etc… I teach my remote Kindergarteners from home at least once a week, so my students, co-workers, and Admin know my backdrop well, so this question concerned me. Endless possibilities flooded my head instantly — most not so good.
And then the response arrived.
Indeed that was my husband outside my school. The school I was not at that day. The school he did not drop me off at that day. We commute together most days, but not that day nor any other Wednesday for the last five months. He was clearly a.) tired from monitoring middle school-aged faculty kids remote schooling and b.) on auto-pilot. I had been wondering where he had gone, having emailed me to say he was on his way home close to two hours earlier. Our commute is just over 30 minutes, so he should have been home ages ago. Possibilities had been running through my head — stopped at the library for curbside pickup, drove over to Concord center for a valentine card or gift for me (hah!), or ran into a favorite custodian on his way out and got deep into a conversation. All reasonable possibilities.
But no. There he was. Sitting in the car, sun pouring in, dozing like a cat. There was only one thing to do.
I’m glad I was able to end her day with a giggle.
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.