Released, finally

I feel like I've just walked out of prison. Four days later, I'm finally finished "providing a valuable service to the district," as the judge told us. I think my fellow jurors summed it up best, though: "They takin' way too long with this. Judge Judy coulda had us outta here in 30 minutes.... Naw, actually 15 minutes, 'cause they got to get in two per show."

I managed to provide comic relief on Day 3, although it was quite unintentional. I listened with great attentiveness to the first attorney's closing remarks, during which he explained the verdict options as well as the law. The second attorney did much of the same, from the perspective of his client of course. By the time the 1st attorney came back, I was drifting, quite happily, into my typical narcoleptic tendencies. I suppose my bobbing head finally awakened me, and as my eyes focused, I realized the bailiff and court reporter were highly amused and trying to stifle their laughter as unobtrusively as possible.

What can I say? Sometimes I just can't fight it, no matter how much water I drink and Altoids / Icebreakers I pop in my mouth. I guess I can't be too harsh on my future students who inevitably will doze off during my class. However, should that occur, it's more of a wake up call to myself to re-examine my apparently dull lesson.

Civic duty

This week I'm having a true cultural experience ~ jury duty. Wow. Thankfully the Jury Pool room had a large picture window; otherwise, my mildly claustrophobic nature would not have endured being cooped up for several days. I'm quite certain I could never be a judge. The first morning (which included endless waiting), the jury clerk released us at 12 for lunch. "Be back at 2:30," she advised. I was ecstatic to be able to leave the holding pen, but two and half hours for lunch? My first thought was, "No wonder the government is so inefficient."

I did have a very interesting conversation with a fellow juror, whom I'll call Dottie. She first surprised me by insisting, "You're not from around here, are you?" I wasn't really offended when she assumed I was a (gasp!) Northerner. She attempted plenty of discussions regarding cellular cleansing, juicing, colon irrigations, reiki, and some hokey type of floatation encounter. After realizing that I had zero personal experience regarding these necessary procedures, she looked down her nose at me rather scornfully and announced, "My gosh, you're boring, aren't you?" Thankfully, my Southern manners have taught me how to respond gracefully to such rudeness, and we managed to have several pleasant discussions about a variety of topics.

Apparently I proved my worth to Dottie, since she invited me home to lunch with her. I conceded (didn't really have a reason not to go). She prepared her lunch and then replied, "This is what's gonna happen. I'm gonna go in there and take a nap. You do whatever you want." I came armed with reading material, so this suited me fine. I was only mildly weirded out when Dottie called me into a small dark room, and my drama-queen self thought, "Oh great. This is the part where she chops me into tiny pieces and then eats me for lunch." (Combo of too much Alias and James Patterson, I guess.) But Dottie was only showing me where the television, computer, and comfortable seating were located. Bless her soul. Despite the musty odor and dog hair floating in the atmosphere, it was much more pleasant to spend 2 1/2 hours in Dottie's house than in a nauseating & stuffy Jury Pool room.

And it does pay to be cordial, I've discovered. Thanks to Dottie, I have several intriguing additions to my "must read" list, and two potential housesitting gigs. Finally at 3:30, we were called to court, and I listened with fascination as the first attorney quickly obtained a 10-minute life history on each juror. People continue to amaze me. The vast wealth of life experiences represented by only twelve people is truly incredible, not to mention the theatrics employed by several jurors in attempt to be excused from duty. What a day.

Transitioning

I kind of, almost, maybe feel like a tiny bit of an adult. I bought furniture this weekend, real furniture, not the particle-board / laminate pseudo-furniture I’ve been making do with for most of my independent life. I’ve been aching for an antique kitchen table for a long time, and finally found one with such character I couldn’t pass it up. It’s a fabulous oak English pub table with two leaves that easily pull out, and accompanied by four chairs. I know it’s a bit small to function as a full dining room table, but it’s plenty large enough for cozy entertaining, which is more my style anyway. Sadly, the gentleman who sold it to me knew nothing of its history, which is actually okay because I’m having fun musing about who might have gathered around it, enjoying a pint or two, back in the day.

And if that’s not enough, I also found the most charming barrister bookcase, another piece I’ve always wanted. The porter who loaded it into the car asked me, “So, are you a lawyer?” After nearly choking, I said, “No sir, I just have loads of books,” to which Mother added, “She’s a teacher.” That seemed to satisfy him for a bit, until he probed to find out which grade I’ll teach. He then proceeded to inform me that middle school is the hardest to teach, the kids are all just blobs of hormones, blah blah blah. Thanks for the pep talk, sonny. I refuse to allow your opinions, to which you are completely entitled, to intimidate me or diminish my enthusiasm.

It’s interesting, though, to note the pattern of reactions I typically receive when people discover I’m going to be a teacher. In my limited experience, there seem to be two camps of people – those who are genuinely respectful of the position and offer heartfelt encouragement, and those who express disdain/shock/criticism and consequently question my sanity. Curious, indeed.

Anyhoo, I’m super excited about my furniture. I couldn’t help but become a little nostalgic as Mother & I perused the antique booths, knowing that she used to accompany her mother on similar outings. I’ve tried to soak up Mother’s accumulated knowledge about antiques, and realized that I know how to recognize the signature marking on Heisey originals, and how to distinguish certain patterns of depression glass, and how to get a decent bargain (or at least make a wholehearted effort). Does this mean I’m turning into my mother?! I’ve a long way to go, but I surmise if I inherit even an ounce of her wisdom and goodness and sensibility, my life will be greatly enriched.

Hmmm. It seems I am years away from the aforementioned potential inheritance of wisdom. I just realized that I hand washed a silk skirt which is clearly marked “dry clean only.” Nice work. Hopefully I haven’t ruined it. I do find a bit of solace in the fact that I bought it on sale, but then again, I tend never to buy anything at full price, so I’m not sure how much of a comfort that is. At least I didn't launder pants with a pen in them (as J. once did), which later exploded in the dryer, creating exactly the mess one would expect to discover from putting an inkpen in the dryer. It's all about perspective.

Summertime

If I ever have a child, I think I will get nothing accomplished all day. I’m fairly certain I will spend most of my waking hours just staring at his or her face, in awe & shock that the tiny little one is actually my own. My dear friend had her 2^nd baby, and he is just as precious as the first. I can hardly imagine their life without him, now that he's arrived.

And speaking of kids, my niece & nephew are getting cuter by the second. I had a blast with them this weekend. They’re both so vocal now, and they continually kept me laughing. My niece can charm the socks off anyone, and absolutely warms my heart by climbing into my lap with her enormous blue eyes as she asks, “Will you read this book to me?” And, inevitably as the last page is turned, she looks up and insists in her irresistable whisper, “Read it again!” Dear me. That child could ask me to rob a bank for her & I’d probably comply. And I'm thoroughly convinced that my sweet nephew, with his freckled nose & vivid imagination, is undoubtedly the most adorable boy on the planet. I never knew I could love two kids so much.

I'm very much enjoying the summer so far, although I'm quite anxious to make my job official, sign the increasingly evasive contract (should I be at all concerned about the district's deliberation?), procure my books, and begin planning. I've plenty of ideas rolling around in my head, and need to sit down and give life to them. My mother is probably right when she told me it's a good thing the school is taking their sweet time with the paperwork, because if I had the curriculum, I'd likely spend all summer poring over it instead of relaxing, which I'm having no problems accomplishing thus far. I spent a rather remarkable day multi-tasking as I relished in all five hours of Pride and Prejudice. I think I annoyed J. for days afterward because I spoke to him in Austen-esque language, such as "insufferable presumption!" and "you take great delight in vexing me." I knew I'd gone too far when I muttered "I daresay we will be able to bear the deprivation" upon my roommate's exit for the weekend. Cheeky, I know. I must say, though, that my favourite line from that film has to be Elizabeth Bennett's: "My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."

I was very excited to learn that a fellow MATer also accepted an 8th grade science position. It would be even more fabulous if she was in the same district, because then we could attend ILT meetings together, but we're still hoping to plan together and share ideas as much as possible. I know I can use her ideas & lessons, because we have similar teaching styles. The 1st year isn't looking quite as painful as before.