Nov 20

This evening as I entered my front door, my eldest son, seven-year-old Thomas, shared his customary greeting "mumble mumble dad mumble," which while added to my mounting doubts about my loss of hearing, did not in any way lessen my surprise in seeing him sitting on his haunches, balanced precariously over several  strewn open volumes of the Oxford dictionary, that I had bought when I landed my first job as the local high school English teacher. 
"Why are there so many dictionaries on the floor? And is that a dictionary you are sitting on?" I tried to ask encouraging, even though my heart sank seeing a sneaker footprint on vol 8. After all, this was the first time he had shown any interest in a dictionary.  
"Have to write a blog report for our media class. My teacher said we have to write a paragraph about our summer holidays."
Now, I had heard of "blogs" but was never really sure what it was, and when the new media teacher was hired and I heard it in nearly every conversation for the first month, in the teachers' lounge. By that point, I thought it was too late to ask any of my colleagues. But Tom showed me how to open an account, how to write an entry. Blog - short for web-log and what a wonderful piece of technology really. I encountered blogs on food, knitting, books, sex (must show it to Martha) and I can't seem to stop reading them.
I've decided to return to an old, favorite habit of mine, from when I was about Tom's age; keeping a diary. Nothing much happened today, except that Principal - let's call him - Principal Mr. Always-Poking-His-Head-Into-the-Teachers' Lounge-To-Get-The-Faculty-To-Run-His-Personal-Errands, found me reading by the sunny window, and pounced on the opportunity. I was delaying going home because it a deliciously quiet, sunny Friday afternoon and I had just fixed myself a cup of coffee. He told me to rush to the Mall before it closed to place an order for 60 cup cakes for his wife's birthday next week. Apparently, she loves cup cakes because it is easier for her to count calories than when she has to cut slices out of a cake. The Mall closed by the time I got there. Now I have to go tomorrow morning and do it. I wish I could say something like "No, Principal D, I would really rather continue reading than listen to your nasal voice" but these are bad times, Principal D is looking for reasons to fire his members of the faculty. Just last month he fired the music teacher then showed off  to the school board how he is able to make financial cuts more than the other schools in the district! Now, Mrs Bell, the arts teacher and our oldest faculty member, bless her heart, is teaching music. There is a cruel irony here, because Mrs. Bell seems to be quite tone deaf. I should pick up some ear plugs at the mall tomorrow. Yesterday I couldn't focus on my lesson plans because of discordant "Ave Maria" on every conceivable scale and off-scale bellowing out of the Music Hall. Right across the teachers' lounge, that too.
Off to bed now, gotta ride to the Mall tomorrow morn,
Tim