And Life Goes On...

In the aftermath of last week’s blizzard, I have been in a whirlwind of activity and the stuff of everyday life.  I still don’t feel as energetic as I probably should by now, but in my defense, there has not been much time between The Storm and now to catch my breath.

Sunday was a wonderful day of church and family, and Monday started with a bang.  The school schedule was already pregnant with previously scheduled activities.  Every year at this time, our school hosts the first of several regional academic competitions appropriately called Acalympics.  The best and brightest of junior and senior high students form teams to answer questions in all subject areas.  It was a fun time and the knowledge exhibited by the students is astounding.  I would challenge anyone to be an observer and attempt to answer all the questions thrown at these kids.  It is challenging by anyone’s standards.

In order to make that great day happen, there is much that must be done before, during, and after.  My assigned job was to help with scoring, a job I very much enjoy, but it does make for a long day.  I fell into bed late on Monday. 

Another of the many hats I wear is a road supervisor for the township we live in (no, I’m not kidding).  Sounds pretty important, huh?  Hate to burst your admiration bubble, but it really boils down two annual meetings held in my home and the most effort I have to put into my job is making a dessert and coffee for those attending the meeting.  Decisions about road maintenance happen collectively at the meetings.  How did I achieve this lofty role of leadership?  Keep in mind that I live in a VERY rural area.  The math equation goes something like this:  rural = no people.  North Dakota is divided into counties and the counties are divided into townships.  Each township is a legally recognized entity, answerable to the county.  We elect officers and as previously mentioned, make decisions about our infrastructure and, most importantly, eat pie.  Anyhow, the first of two meetings was held last night in my home.  Knowing I had a long day ahead of me, my wonderful husband baked banana bread for the meeting and scrubbed the downstairs toilet.  Does that scream love, or what?!

This morning found first grade short of two ill students and a third arrived looking a little green when he walked in the door.  He unloaded his backpack then promptly lay down on the floor.  “My stomach hurts,” was his reply when I asked what the matter was.  OK, this one generally runs on a 10 volt battery….no AA’s here.  “Well, let’s see how you feel in a bit.”  I called his daytime caregiver just as a heads-up precaution and as I came back down the stairs, he was planted in the middle of the hall doing his best impression of Mount Vesuvius.  Guess I delayed that call a wee bit too long…

After scrambling to get the mess cared for, it was 9:30 before I could fully focus my attention on the remaining stragglers.  Well, doggonit, we had work to do!  I had to grin when my student with the too-big-shoes ran/walked towards me excitedly during daily sight word search in the newspaper.  “Mrs. Dahl!” Right shoe gets left behind.  Without a second thought he backs up to retrieve it.  Forward motion again. “Mrs. Dahl!,”  he repeats.  “I found 30 words I recognize!”  Now this may not seem like a big deal to the casual observer, but for this child to whom reading has been a continual frustration, it was monumental.  Thirty sight words recognized in five minutes is fab-u-LOUS!! 

What is it about the absence of a student – any student – that makes such a difference in the tone and tenor of a day?  Things just seem more subdued and relaxed.  Maybe knowing tomorrow begins our Spring Break plays into it too.  Not sure.  Anyway, it’s pretty relaxed in The Magic Tree House today.

And then, Invention’s mother, Necessity paid us a visit.  During the 50-yard-dash to recess, one distraught student runs to me shouting in desperation, “my zipper broke!  My zipper broke!”  Sure enough, there had been a derailment on the Sante Fe of metal zippers.  I could see he was just waiting for me to say, “well, I guess you can’t go outside,” like an accused defendant waiting for the jury’s verdict.  Ha!  He doesn’t yet know that mothers can fix anything.  Especially when 30 minutes of quiet is at stake.  I’ve been known to lock my children out of the house on a beautiful day, their little faces pressed against the glass and muffled voices asking, “Why can’t we come in?” 

So after a moment of quick thinking, I pulled a McGyver and grabbed two over sized paper clips out of my desk drawer, pulled his coveralls together in the front, and clamped him shut.  He was thrilled!  And he was the envy of the playground.

So, after the thrill ride of our blizzard, life simply returns back to normal.  Know what?  Normal’s a pretty nice place to be….

It ain't pretty, but it worked