Wake up with the third alarm. Wonder why I always set it so early.
Do one Down Dog to prove I'm still in shape, alive, capable.
Open gun safe.
Retrieve meds from gun safe. Put meds in robe pocket and close gun safe, as history has proven I will leave bottle out and /or not close gun safe ,which has a gun and meds in it. (You thought I was getting a gun, didn't you? I live in Colorado, not Texas.)
Walk straight to kitchen to put meds in little blue box.
Start coffee.
Feed dogs.
Put dogs out.
If there are clean dishes, unload dishwasher.
Walk back down hall, feed cats.
Shower. Or not. What day is it and does it matter? This is a real moment, sometimes I just can't shower.
Back to kitchen, let dogs in.
Try to remember where I left my car key and building keys. I know better than to vary the routine, but I come home after two jobs and frequently drag things upstairs that should have stayed in my car.
Get dressed.
This is an event, as I have chosen my Getup the night before in my mind. I do not ensemble, I do not outfit, I Getup and I do it on purpose. (This is a word I got from my mom, who would frequently ask me "What is that Getup you are wearing?) All work and no play makes me act out in my wardrobe. ("Play" being theatre, see what I did there?)
Today it is red pants, zebra shirt, brown plaid jacket and leopard shoes. Decide I need a fushia cardigan, black patterned head band and orange scarf to complete the look. Add my knitted 1980's fingerless gloves. We are in second semester, I have yet to have anyone comment on these choices, which are so loud they drown out my speaking voice. The clothes are loud enough to drown out their voice as well, so it's possible they have commented and I just haven't heard them.
Think it'd be good to put a curtain or something in the spare room, since every morning I feed the cats in my robe or jammies with no window covering. The room faces the street.
Return to kitchen, grab a yogurt and an ICE. Fill coffee mug.
Wash the coffee mug out, first,because it was in my car for several days. Every day I take a new coffee mug until I run out, then I schlep them back into the kitchen. Or not. Sometimes I leave them in the car to ferment. It's science.
The Stevia is in the antique blue salt shaker on the ledge. I thought nobody was using that. Turns out occasionally Jim forgets and thinks it's actually the salt. I pour it in the coffee, awaiting the day he actually fills it with salt without telling me.
Text family good morning, any instructions about the day "Harp, I have Wonka today,meet me at Field at 3.30, thank you! Jim, don't forget to pick up tile. " Because The Renovation That Will Never End is still going on, three months later. Because It Will Never End. It cannot, it's in the title.
Walk forward downstairs, hearing Dick Van Dyke tell me not to walk downstairs sideways. Rush gate up behind me so giant dog doesn't run me over and send me tumbling to my death.
Feed downstairs cats.
They have one plastic bowl and two silver bowls, one is for water. One silver bowl has gone missing.
Look around, it's gone. Guess no water for the cats today. *
Car key is where it belongs, grab it. We all now have Subarus, the keys are the same. My key has a St. Genesius attached.
Get in the car. Move the three coffee mugs I did not take upstairs last night to make room for the new one.
Left full coffee by the cat food. Sigh.
Pause. Where are my keys to the building?
In my denim jacket in the house.
Get back out of car, go inside, walk upstairs. Think about cleaning the floors. Go upstairs frontwards.
Giant dog thinks I am home, the day just flew by, tries to greet me by knocking down gate and running me over. Some day he's going to kill me.
Grab jacket, yep, keys are in there. Because I wore the jacket yesterday and left my bag in the car.
My building keys and badge usually go in the hippie bag. When they are not it's a bad day. Made it all the way to school one cold day, 6.30 am in the parking lot, no badge to get in. Luckily Mark the custodian had to check the ice in the parking lot about the time I arrived. He let me in the building and unlocked my room. This has happened more than once; we are becoming close. I expect a marriage proposal any day.
Walk downstairs frontwards, gate behind me so dog does not try to follow. One day he is going to kill me.
Get in car. Look at coffee mugs on the seat. Tell them that this is their home now, accept it.
Get out, go back in for full coffee mug. Cats think I'm feeding them again. They are wrong.
Switch between KOOL 105 and SIRIUS XM First Wave. DJ Bueller's Breakfast Beatmix reminds me of Rock Island. I wish I was young again. Keep driving.
I am one of the earliest arriving teachers. The bell schedule changed this year, we don't start until 8.30, but I can't break 14 years of arriving before 7 to get the theatre open, warmed up, set checked on...
...now I arrive and I enter by the science rooms because I Have Issues. I walk straight to my lang arts classroom. I see the business teacher, who is always here before I am and is also named Martin. These morning exchanges have given us time to get to know each other after how ever many years she has been here. We've never really spoken. I have also encountered a counselor who arrives stupid early and runs laps in the gym. I wonder what is wrong with them, they wonder what is wrong with me, we are three of the earliest arriving teachers. It's all good.
Mark and Richard the custodians are working on a hallway wall, I think it's a locked retracting cage thing that is to shut the hallway off? It doesn't work. I wonder what it's for, why would you cut the hall in half? Is there a true Zombie threat? It apparently doesn't work, Mark thinks it never really did, but the principal wants it working so...they are working on it at 6.30 am. We exchange the same Zombie thought, and again it's clear he's in love with me. We have to stop meeting like this.
I am the first lang arts teacher to arrive, the halls are quiet. I unlock my door.
I turn on my Legally Blonde Lamp**, my Chinese paper lamp, my bedroom lamp and bathroom lamps. I never turn on the fluorescents in my room. Drop my hippie bag on my chair and turn on Pandora or You Tube full blast, depending on how my drive in made me feel (do I still miss Rock Island, do I hate my job, am I determined to be positive, etc) . Today it's You Tube and we're starting with Front 242 at full blast. It can be heard in the hallway, but nobody's here and I think a melted brain sounds like a solid choice this morning.
Look around my room and wonder why I'm here so damned early. What's today? Which classes do I have? Where am I? Would it matter if I didn't show up?
Determine it's Thursday: Odd Day. First period is LA Honors 9, then two sections of poetry.
Honors is working on their Hero's Journey Nomination speech. Poetry is starting sonnets. Got it.
Sit at my desk and stare at the clipboard, which has a roster and grades handwritten on it.
Crap, I need to put these grades in infinite campus. They're a week old. Honors kids get twitchy when grades are not entered.
Pick up clipboard, walk to desk top where You Tube has rolled past Front 242 to Nitzer Ebb. Open Infinite Campus.
Remember I need copies of speech rubrics.
Walk to copy room. Other Early Teacher, Science, is already there. She may have arrived before the custodians, I've never seen anyone make so many packets. It's possible she has a cot in the science room and has been here since last night.
Remember my phone. Where is my phone? Wait for copies, load them up.
Return to 1743.
Look for my phone.
Find my phone.
Put hippie bag in cabinet.
Cabinet is empty, all the Kleenex and Styrofoam cups for tea have been used.
Need Kleenex, why aren't the kids bringing Kleenex?
Write "Room 1742 needs Kleenex STAT" on the board.
Close cabinet door.
Where did the clipboard go with my grades? Did I take it to the copy room? Look around the room.
My eye is caught by the printed schedule attached to board by Oh No Mr. Bill magnet. Poetry presentation dates are there. Who was doing Shakespeare? Did I check in with them? We're starting today. Hope they remember.
You Tube is now on Talking Heads.
Classroom pods have been moved because they watched a movie last class. Move desks back.
Stand at the window and watch the colors change as the sun rises. Hear myself telling my children and my students to find one beautiful thing a day. This is mine.
Remember grades.
Where's the clipboard?
Where's my phone?
Locate phone.
Where did I put the copies?
Open cabinet, clipboard is there. Much like the silver cat bowls, things just disappear and reappear in my classroom.
Sit at desk top, begin to put in grades.
Colleague enters. She tells me how cute I look. Got three grades entered. We talk. Ask if I can steal everything she has on night because all I was planning was to read the book and watch Oprah. (I'm not a very good language arts teacher).
Turn music down so we don't have to shout over it. This is not Rock Island.
Colleague points out that my shirt is inside out. I laugh but do not fix it.
Where is my phone?
Colleague talks while I locate my phone.
Colleague departs to do her own thing.
Two kids who hang out on the couch in the morning enter: Boy Who Wears Green Crocs Every Day and Sometimes Dresses and his buddy, Asperger's. They were in my LA Honors 9 last year and have found me again. Green Crocs wears colorful leggings and when he wears a dress, it's not just any dress, it is his grandmother's dress from the 1980's and could easily be found on Jennifer Grey in any movie she was in. They have a lively conversation about math and politics on the couch.
Check email, there is one from my second job later today regarding the set. I read it quickly and reply in a manner that sounds like I read it thoroughly. I will find out later today that I did not read it thoroughly and my reply confused the producer.
Wonder what I was doing before colleague came in.
Grades. Yes. Put those in. Return to entering grades.
Where are the copies?
Students begin to arrive.
"What are we doing today?"
"Whatever I say."
Same exchange every day.
She smiles, drops off her backpack, returns to hallway to go find her friends.
As she leaves, my colleague from across the hall waves from his rolling chair. He parks in the hall every day to hand out "Quotes of the Day" to passing students.
Kid Not In This Class comes in. I tell her she's not in this class. She laughs. She just wanted to stop by and get some hot tea to start her day.
I have a hot tea kettle, cups and tea in my room. I neglected to mention that. She has a thermos with her, she does not need a cup. Which is good, the cabinet is empty. No cups, no kleenex, because everyone sucks and doesn't contribute.
Z comes in smiling, telling me he has the wrong backpack because he forgot which classes he has today. This is his routine, he is in LA Honors 9, I've never known him to bring the correct day's backpack.
I feel ya, Z. Buckle up.
Locate copies on windowsill. When did I walk over there?
Another Not In This Class kid comes in bearing Styrofoam cups. I thank her like she's Jesus feeding the masses. She apologizes for not having kleenex as well, she forgot. She only remembered cups because she works at Starbucks? Somehow those two things are related, but the cups she brings are not Starbucks cups. Whatever, I'm grateful someone remembered to contribute. She does not suck.
Couch Boys ask me about my Tienanmen Square poster. Did the guy in front of the tank get run over? I tell them, worse: he was beaten, dragged off and never heard from again. They contemplate this a moment, as Asperger's family were missionaries in China.
Second colleague drops in. States my classroom looks like the basement bedroom of some kid in the 80's.
Blink, blink. Well duh.
He laughs, departs.
8.26 first bell.
Couch Boys take their leave. Green crocs hugs me, thanks me. I'm always befuddled when this kid thanks me, I have no idea what he's thanking me for, but I'm grateful for his gratitude.
And so the day officially begins.
* The Case of the Disappearing Cat Bowl has become routine at our house. It simply disappears, and then reappears. No one in the house is locating the bowl under something, because the cats batted it there. Nobody sees it, it just disappears and then reappears when it feels like it.
**The Legally Blonde lamp is a funny, pink beaded side lamp I purchased for Elle's dorm room when we did the show. I kept it, and it was in my spare bathroom for a few years. It now adorns my desk. It is perched upon a black box full of black hearts, given to me by Jim Farrell when I was fired (sorry, "involuntarily relocated")from all theatre and sentenced to language arts. I turn it on when I arrive. It is the universal symbol that I have arrived. Teachers look to see if my lamp is on before they enter.
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