Who to Pick?

I've been dithering about, trying to figure out who I was going to blog about today. And it's hard. Because I have two great candidates.

It was Friday in a biology class, and they had a test. Well, it was more of a quiz. And for the most part, the classes behaved well (except for 5th period, but they were awful in the usual way). So, I was stumped as to how I was going to make a blog post out of it.

But, there were two interesting students. I don't know that either of them deserves a full blog post, though.

In 3rd period there was Nia. When she saw the quiz, she announced loudly that she knew nothing on it. (It was 11 questions: 5 multiple choice questions, 4 true/false questions, and 2 short answer questions.) The class got to work, and I didn't think too much more about Nia.

Then, as I was walking the room, I found Nia stretched out across her desk, head down in a pose of one who is most put upon. There were sighs coming from her direction. I intervened when she started drumming on her desk.

About the time when half the class had finished, I found Nia rifling through her notebook. With her biology notes.

I took her quiz and walked away.

Nia protested. She wasn't finished. Then what was she doing in her notebook? She explained that she was looking for some homework to complete for when she had finished her quiz.

So many things wrong with that explanation I don't know where to start.

Then in 4th period I got into a conversation with Brandon. (This was after everyone had finished the quiz and they were supposed to be working on a worksheet which I gave them.)

It started out as what seemed like a joke. Brandon explained that all he wanted to do with his life was become a drug dealer. As the conversation progressed, I became more and more convinced that he was serious.

Just picture me shaking my head.

On the bright side, aside from 5th period these were the problems of the day. So, in all, not too bad.

How do you convince a 14-year-old boy that he can do more with his life than become a drug dealer?

Wait. I know the answer to this one...

Read the Schedule

Fifth period is right after lunch. The bell rang, and I opened the door. I had put up their assignment on the board, and I was ready for them all to enter.

I waited.

Three minutes into the passing period, and no students were arriving. Um...

A student poked her head in.

"We meet over in..."

Oh, right! I did see that.

Every morning when I check in, along with the room key I'm given a teacher schedule. It has all the teacher's periods listed along with the room number the teacher is in. Normally, the room number for each period is the same.

I did notice that 5th period was in a different room. Then I got busy with the day and periods one through four.

It completely slipped my mind that I was supposed to be in a different room for period 5. My oops.

I quickly grabbed all my stuff and ran over there (luckily it was only three doors away). We were in the room and ready to go before the tardy bell.

I really should pay closer attention to these things. (It would have helped if the teacher had mentioned it in the lesson plan. However, she explained the oversight when I saw her after school that day. So, mostly my fault.)

Knitted Gift Card Holders

I finally got those gift card holder thingies listed...

Olive Green "S" on Neon Coral Background

Teal Blue "H" on Black Background

...and you can now find them at my shop.

I can do any initial monogram, and I have several colors available.

And if you've gotten this far in the post and are thinking you might be interested in getting a few (Christmas is coming!), I'm going to sweeten the deal. Use the coupon code GIFTCARDLOG for $2 off. (Special deal for my blogging buddies.)

Have you started your Christmas shopping yet?

Mage-y Question

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.

This week's what if comes to us from CD Coffelt...

If given the chance to do magic, what would it be?
No gift is “all good”. So what would be the bad, unintended consequences of wielding that magic?

Mage Revealed

Book Two of The Magic Withheld series

Struck with enough malevolent Spirit to turn him into a raving beast of a man, Bert Reese fights to remain human. Alone, he walks a slender path between sanity and madness. Then, an unlikely source enters his life to help—one of the now-hated mages.

But Ashleigh is different and calms his butchered senses. Her fierce nature is the only rock that stands between him and the crevasse that is beast. In all ways, she walks beside him toward a new beginning. But at the end of their journey lies the one who used Spirit against him. Questions arise; did Tiarra, head of the Imperium, lose her magic, die, or simply give way to the new order? Or, like a spider, does she wait for a mage to blunder into her web?

Forced on him without a care for his humanity, Bert is the mage who should not exist, born with a different kind of magic. 

And the gates of Hell are no match for the magic he wields.

Author C.D. Coffelt’s world of magic started in Wilder Mage with the words “The earthquake wasn't his fault. Not this time.” It continues in Mage Revealed, the second book of the three-part series. Watch the book trailer on YouTube.

Excerpt from Mage Revealed

Energy slithered around him, encased him and…

Bonded.

All the elements slammed into him at once filling him like a bursting dam, sloshing into a maelstrom of Fire, Earth, Air, Water, and Spirit. Magic filled him, cascaded into every pore of his skin until there was nothing left that was of his essence.

He raised his arms. “I am a wizard,” he said.

His words echoed, like the roll of a bass drum in an empty coliseum.

From his fingertips, fluid lightning forked and shot into the empty sky. A violent whirlwind as tall as he wanted it to be caught up a whorl of leaves. A roar of Fire sprang from the palms of his hands, crowned his head. And Spirit, the silvery element waited for his command, to charge into any foray he so chose.

He turned to the panting woman, frozen in the grip of panic and fright.

“I am a wizard,” he said again.

C.D. Coffelt lives outside Skidmore, Missouri with a bemused husband and way too many cats. She is a member of the Missouri Writers Guild. But despite that bit of conventionality, she adores all things fantasy with a special love for urban and epic.

With a passion for good writing and Doritos as companions, locating Middle-Earth on a dusty road in rural Missouri wasn’t difficult. All it took was a little Magic, hours of reading, and an overactive imagination.

She blogs as Huntress on www.spiritcalled.blogspot.com, Facebook, Twitter, and her writer’s critique site, www.unicornbell.blogspot.com.

Find her books at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Forewarned Is Forearmed

"Hi. My name is Jake."

The boy held out his hand, so I shook it. It was passing period. Students filed into class. Instead of sitting, Jake put his backpack on his desk and proceeded to roam about.

Right before the bell, another boy walked in. He took Jake's seat. Not missing a beat, Jake grabbed his backpack and took a different seat.

In the lesson plan for the day, Ms. S warned me about only two students--Jake and Deon.

I addressed Deon by name and told both boys to sit in their proper seats. Deon claimed he was really Jake, and Jake asserted now that his name was Deon.

Which might have worked if Jake hadn't introduced himself to me. Which I pointed out.

(The rest of the class thought this was hilarious. They saw Jake introduce himself, so they knew Jake had blown it.)

*shakes head*

The Wrong Key

I was to cover a 7th grade science class for three days. I had some time the first day to scan all the lesson plans so I'd have some idea of what was to come. All was in order. Or so I thought.

Day 1 they were to work on a study guide for a test on day 3. It was on line graphs, bar graphs, and pie charts. Easy enough.

But one girl called me over to help her with a question. And I wasn't sure what the question meant.

This happens sometimes. I walk in cold to these classes, and I haven't been there when lectures were given. Sometimes I'm not exactly sure what the teacher is going for. I usually mask this by having the students consult their notes and ask them leading questions so that they can figure it out themselves. This works 99% of the time.

This was not one of those times.

It was a simple question, but which simple answer did the teacher want?

Oh, right, I had the key.

Day 2 we were to go over the study guide, and I was given a key for this purpose. (Some teachers remember to provide keys for assignments. Some don't.) All I needed was to go into my materials for day 2...

I found the key. For chapter 1.1 & 1.2. They were working on the study guide for chapter 1.3.

Panic time.

But then I remembered that the science teachers all do pretty much the same thing. And the teacher next door might just have what I needed. So I called her. And sure enough, she was able to answer the student's question.

(And a short time later, she sent a student with the correct key. Whew.)

I am so grateful to that student, though. Because if she hadn't asked the question that sent me scurrying to the key, I would not have known I had the wrong key. Until the next day when it was time to go over the study guide with the whole class.

That could have been ugly.

It's nice when things work out.

Not Going to Do It

"Is this homework?"

I had just passed out the worksheet, explained to the 8th grade math class that it was their assignment for class, and told them to get started.

"It's classwork," I said.

I know this game. If I tell Maria that what she doesn't finish in class is homework, she hears that the assignment is homework, and then she does nothing in class. Because the assignment is "homework" so she should do it at home.

Maria persisted. "Do we have homework?"

Yep, not falling into that trap.

I met Maria the prior week in her science class. I noticed that she hadn't started working on her assignment, so to give her a little push I asked her to make sure her name was on her paper. It wasn't. She then refused to write her name on the page.

This is one of my tricks. If I want a student's name and I don't want them to know I'm looking, I check the name on their paper. Student never realizes how I figured out who they are.

But this time I wasn't looking for her name. I just wanted her to write something--anything--on her paper. Because she refused so vehemently was the only reason I made sure to learn who she was. And her name did go in my note that day.

I answered Maria by telling her that I'd discuss what their homework was at the end of the period.

Maria goofed off all period. She tried to get her friend to sit next to her because she "needed help". I was not allowing any students to move from their assigned seats. I offered to help her myself. I asked her what she needed help with. She got sucked into a conversation happening on the other side of the room.

Fine. I walked away, but I came back several times to "help". She wasn't taking me up on my offer. She wrote maybe 3 answers all period. (The assignment had something like 50 questions.)

(Others did take me up on my offer to help. So, I wasn't entirely useless all period.)

The end of the period rolled around, so I got the class's attention and made the announcement. Anything they hadn't finished in class was homework.

Maria was incensed. "But you said it wasn't homework."

"No, I said it was classwork. Now, what you didn't do in class is homework."

Maria: "But you didn't say it was homework. If I had known it would be homework, I would have done it in class."

*facepalm*

No. No she wouldn't. I know she wouldn't. It's all just an excuse to do nothing.

But it's frustrating just the same.

Unintended Consequences

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.

What if you (or your main character) executed a silly prank, but then those around you totally misinterpreted it and turned the incident into a major issue/problem? Would you come forward and own up, or would you hide in the shadows? 

The Long Walk

10th grade world history. They had a worksheet on the Revolutions of 1848. (Should that be capitalized? I'm not sure.) It was one of those fairly easy days where the kiddos did their work (mostly) and all I had to do was to pass out worksheets and collect worksheets.

Well, except for the restroom passes...

(I swear, I'm not trying to turn this blog into the restroom pass chronicles. But it seems like this is the big issue with the kiddos currently.)

As I've mentioned before, I have my own restroom pass policy. Ms. B actually took the time to write hers down, so I made sure we followed it. The students get timed. The students then owe Ms. B double the time they took after class. So, if a student is gone 3 minutes (the average for the day), the student owes Ms. B 6 minutes after school. Simple enough.

6th period a girl asked to go. No problem. A bit later, a boy asked to go. The girl hadn't returned. That's when I noticed she'd been gone a long time. I checked the timer. 12 minutes. Yikes.

Eventually she did return. After being gone 22 minutes.

I told her to write down 44 minutes. She looked at me questioningly. I explained that she owed double the time she took, and I even showed her the timer to prove that she was gone that long.

A bit later I heard her complaining to her neighbor. About how if Ms. B got upset with her...

Um, okay...

Because it's Ms. B's fault that the girl roamed campus for 22 minutes?

(The girl said something about a broken bra strap, so it could all be innocent.)

Senior Superlatives

It was Friday in the senior government class. They had an assignment, but most ignored it in favor of the other things I passed out to them.

First, they were to write their senior quote. They get to pick a quote that goes along with their picture in the yearbook. They were limited to 125 characters.

Then, they got to vote for the senior superlatives. You know what I'm talking about. They used to have "most likely to succeed". Nowadays, they have things like "class clown", "best hair", "most likely to return as a teacher", etc.

Helpfully, they included a list of every senior on the page. But this didn't help the group.

In 5th period, one of the students came up to the board to put up "suggestions" for the class. Decided by her and her group of friends. The other seniors mostly ignored her, although she was open to their suggestions as well.

I warned her that she was making a case for "most likely to return as a teacher". She didn't like that. She wants to be a teacher, but not at this school. (She might have mentioned elementary school.)

At some point she got done and went back to her seat. But a bit later she rushed to the board. There was one name she just had to add.

A boy chased after her. He absolutely, positively did not want her to put his name up.

What did he not want to be remembered as?

Most likely to become a millionaire.

Really? He did not want to have this in front of his name?

After a bit of back and forth, I had to step in. If the boy didn't want to be "most likely to become a millionaire", then the girl had to back off and not put his name up. And eventually she relented.

No, I did not ask why not. I should have. I know that. Now.

Different Phone Systems

It's that time of year again. Blog Action Day...

And I've been scrambling about what to write. Some years the topic is easier than others. This year is not an easy year for me. So, apologies in advance...

There are a couple different high schools I sub at. One is in a slightly better part of town than the other. Neither are in "dangerous" neighborhoods, but one has a slightly more "ethnic" population. When the students at either school ask where I prefer to go, I answer that it doesn't matter. What matters is the teacher I'm covering.

(Or, I'll say I prefer the continuation high school. To mess with their minds. And because it's true. If I have to choose solely on school. Because the teacher I cover makes all the difference, really.)

A couple years ago, school A got a new phone system. And these phones are cool. They have caller ID, so I can tell if it's the attendance office calling (because they need a student) or the secretary (because she wants me to cover an extra period). There's even a nice button where I can send the call directly to voicemail (which I'd only do if the call is from the outside, like from a parent. Parents don't want to talk to the sub).

School B--still on the old system.

Just this year, school B got new phones. Which means that they're now on the same system. So, if I want to call the district office from either school, I can dial directly. (I wasn't able to do that from school B until they got the new phones.)

But there's a difference. School B's phones don't have the caller ID. And the teachers have told me that they're not sure how the things work. (I clued them in to some features that teachers at school A told me about.)

Teachers at school B said they're treated differently than school A. So, how they finally got the new phones wasn't a surprise. Or that they got them so much later than school A.

Why would the district treat the schools so differently? 

Remember how I said one school was in a slightly better part of town. Yeah, that's school B.

Picture Fail

Ages ago (I just checked. It was February) I talked about selling some lacy fingerless gloves just as soon as I got some pictures of them. And, well, I'm still working on it.

I got some pictures taken, but there was an issue...

Wouldn't you think I'd've noticed the pronounced shadows when I took the pictures?

Special Day?

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.

I was on Twitter the other day, and I saw this tweet:

Today’s date is 10 / 10 / 2014. It’s so rare that it will never happen again.
— Neil deGrasse Tyson (@neiltyson) October 10, 2014

And being the contrarian I sometimes am, I thought, "Yeah, but..."

What if someone changed the calendar?

Because, you know, it could be better. More logical. More streamlined. The only thing that keeps us using it is habit, really.

Ebola and the Staring Contest

Sophomore English. 6th period.

The bell rang, and one student complained that another was in his seat. I told the other to move. He (the other) then roamed about, looking for a place to settle.

Bad sign. This was a boy I was going to have to watch. I didn't have a seating chart, or I would have "helped" him find his seat. Usually, the other students can clue him in, but this time, whenever he'd try to settle, the other students told him he didn't sit there.

He had to sit somewhere.

"Go away, Ebola, we don't want you here."

Ebola?

On the one hand, it was a very clever nickname. He was the sort of student I spend a period battling. Not doing any work. Roaming the classroom. Talking out of turn. (Luckily, this was not a silent working day, so I didn't have that battle.) This is the student that makes it into my note if I don't end up kicking him out.

On the other hand, now this student has been singled out by the rest of the class. I can't let any student be picked on. Not even him.

Sigh.

E found a seat at the front of the room. And while the two girls sitting nearby weren't pleased, they still managed to find topics of conversation that included him. E wasn't being picked on, so I could move on to other things. After standing over him until he got out paper and pencil.

I was elsewhere when I heard him ask the boy seated next to him for his name. Which he wouldn't give. And then they got into a staring contest.

Why? I have no idea.

The boy wouldn't give up his name. And E wanted it. He said that he needed to talk to every student in the class.

(Someone asked why E wasn't this animated in 1st period. E explained that in 1st period he was still asleep. Oh, to have had him in 1st period...)

Then they started the staring contest. And E got adamant about getting the other boy to interact with him.

Time for me to intervene...

The other boy (I checked the roll--his name was Ethan) was staring at E. And not moving. At all.

Now I was freaked out.

Was he having a seizure? Whatever was happening, it was time to distract E and the two girls. One of the girls noted that Ethan had a fly on him, and that's when Ethan swatted the fly away.

Whew.

One of the girls asked around for white-out (she was actually doing the assignment). Ethan went into his stuff and got some for her. And then when he handed it to her, he froze again. Which freaked everybody out.

Ethan--freaking everybody out on purpose or dealing with some condition or other? It wasn't my place to ask.

E didn't do any work. And the others were still calling him Ebola.

Sometimes, I just have to leave it all in my note.

The Names They Choose

12th grade English class. They had a guest speaker. The Marine Staff Sergeant had presented to many of the same students before, so he divided the class into two teams--the group that had heard him speak and the group that hadn't.

He made it into a game. He asked questions that anyone who had heard him speak before would have known the answer to. If they had been paying attention. Because of this, he gave the group who hadn't heard him speak first shot at answers.

The two teams ended up tying.

But that's not why I mention this.

He had the teams name themselves. Team heard-him-speak-before: White Lightning and Black Thunder. The team that hadn't: Ebola Gang.

Where do they come up with these things?

Schooled by a Student

7th grade world history. And we were starting the chapters on the Middle East. Which meant we were discussing Islam.

The assignment consisted of reading about and doing a project about the Five Pillars of Islam.

Reading the chapter was slightly painful. I did not realize there were so many ways to pronounce Arab, Arabia, Muhammad, Mecca, Muslim, et cetera. I gently corrected. Some of them barreled through and tried to skip the new vocabulary.

We got to Koran. A student raised her hand. And gently corrected my pronunciation.

I let her guide us on pronunciation after this. Because I got pretty quickly that this was her religion we were talking about. And I'm no expert, so I'll go with someone who knows what she's talking about, even if she is a 7th grader.

Well, a 7th grader raised Muslim will know a lot more about it than me.

Some Little Things

I've been working on little knitting and crochet projects. That seems to be where my brain is at right now. So, I might as well go with it.

According to my Ravelry projects page, I finished these at the end of August...

What is it? It's a little thing that goes over the end of an Otter Pop. To keep little hands from freezing or to help insulate the pop--I'm not sure which. But I thought it was a cool idea. It's supposed to look like a lightsaber hilt.

I'm not sure where I first saw the idea, but the pattern is here. If you crochet, it's a very easy project. I made three in almost no time at all. (I'll sell you one if you want to buy one from me. Just let me know.)

The other thing is something I've had in my head for a while, but it took a panic to actually get it made. My sister-in-law's birthday was last week, and someone kind of let things go until the very last minute. (Oops.)

So, I did what last minute gift givers always do. I wimped out and got her a gift card. But I made her a little something to put it in. And I put her initial on it.

I rather like how it turned out. Of course, it took me three tries before I got it kind of where I wanted.

What do you think? Might these be a good idea to add to my shop? Or are they more trouble than they're worth?

A Birthday Wish

At the heart of much speculative fiction (and fiction in general) is a question. What if? On Tuesdays I like to throw one out there and see what you make of it. Do with it as you please. If a for-instance is not specified, feel free to interpret that instance as you wish. And if you find this becomes a novel-length answer, I'd appreciate a thank you in the acknowledgements.

My Facebook lit up with birthdays last week. Which got me thinking...

What if birthday wishes were real? That is, what if when you blow out the candles on your cake, that wish you make is an actual spell that you can cast (if you do it all correctly)?

I've Got Your Number

It was a 7th grade world history class, and the lesson plan had us reading a section of the textbook as a class. Which led to the usual problem. How do I pick the readers?

I can ask for volunteers. Sometimes I actually get them. But usually I get three or four, and there's a lot more than three or four paragraphs to read. (Readers usually read a paragraph and then expect to hand off the reading to someone else.)

I can do "popcorn" reading. I pick the first reader. Then that reader picks the next reader. This works well under certain circumstances, but middle school students are very good at turning this into a circus. And I tried it in an earlier period, and things didn't go so well.

Or I can just pick students. I hate doing this. It's almost like I'm picking on students. I'm there for a day, so I don't necessarily know them. Does that girl like to read out loud? Will that boy read or will he turn it into a joke? I'm never sure.

I prefer to pick students at random. Lots of teachers have popsicle sticks or index cards, and that makes my job so much easier. But this teacher didn't. And then I found the perfect solution.

I had a roll sheet. The students were numbered...

I called on the first student. Then I had her pick a number between 1 and 33. That was the name of the next student to go. It made it fairly random (as the student didn't know who she was picking). It kept the others on their toes as they didn't know who would be picked next.

It worked great. Until 6th period...

When I asked the reader to pick a number, several students yelled out numbers in hopes that the reader would pick them.

They knew their numbers?

It's possible. Some teachers give students numbers for ease of recording assignments. But none of the other classes seemed to know what their number on the roll sheet was.

The reader picked a number. One student was sure it was him. But the student I did call was surprised.

You'd think they'd figure out that they didn't know their number at this point. But they didn't. When the next reader was up to pick a number, the class still called out what they thought was their number. And the student I called was again surprised.

Some students spent the entire period calling out what they thought was their number.

Which meant that the reading didn't go so well. (Imagine after every paragraph the room erupting into noise as half the class is telling a student to "pick me".)

Eventually I figured out that they thought I was calling their seat number.

I had the same group the next day. I did "popcorn" reading with them instead.

And you know what. Things went much more smoothly. (Of course, that could be because two students were stuck in the office for some other offense from an earlier period and I kicked three other students out.)

He Looks So Young

Friday in an Algebra I class. Of course they had a quiz. Which was largely uneventful. (This is a very good thing.)

5th period there were three boys who could not sit still. It was a good thing most of the class finished quickly, for I don't think they would have been able to hold it in much longer. When released from the silence, the boys got into a strange conversation.

The only part I heard:

"Which is the warmest ocean?"

"The Pacific? No, the Indian? I don't know."

At which point I chimed in with something about how the boy would learn that in his geography class.

"I'm in the 10th grade."

Freshmen take geography. I assumed he was a freshman. In my defense, he looked young.

Oops.

At which point I asked about his geography class the previous year. He told me who his teacher had been, and I understood.

I really must check the roll sheet before assuming what grade students are in.

Broken Record

Eduardo caught my attention early. By the third time he left his seat in the back far corner of the room to throw away another sheet of paper, I knew he was one I was going to have to keep an eye on. But when he asked to use the restroom, I had no problem in letting him go.

I have a pretty liberal restroom pass policy (so long as the teacher has not put the kibosh on passes by stating "no passes" in the lesson plan). I let anyone go. One at a time. Once per period. (And I write down their names.) Most students are okay with this.

Eduardo returned in good time. He went back to his seat.

Not long after this, Eduardo returned to the front seeking hand sanitizer. I looked. The teacher didn't have any.

Eduardo then asked for another restroom pass. To wash his hands. Because he had gotten pencil dust on them? Something like that. His hands looked fine to me. I offered him a tissue. But that wasn't what he wanted.

I explained that he had used his one pass for the class. It wasn't that long until the end of the period. And his hands weren't filthy. He'd be fine.

He didn't see it that way.

He proceeded to ask me to use the restroom. I said no. Then he asked again. And again. And again. It was as annoying as you'd imagine.

In the midst of this, another student approached and asked to use the restroom. I let her go.

He was incensed. How could I let her go? Well, she hadn't gone once before this.

And now I had a second reason he couldn't go. Someone else was out of the room.

Finally, he relented. He'd give me five minutes to "reconsider". Then he'd return.

Five minutes passed, and he did indeed return. This time with his "lawyer". This other student didn't say anything. I think he kind of enjoyed the show. I know the students sitting nearby were getting a kick out of it.

Eduardo started the, "Can I go?" again. After two nos, I stopped answering. He wasn't listening anyway.

Just when I thought I'd spend the rest of the period hearing the question (and Eduardo doesn't know me very well if he thought he'd actually wear me down with this), another student returned to class.

This other student had been called out of class at the beginning of the period. When Eduardo saw him, he said, "Never mind," and instantly went back to his desk.

"Oh good. You made dumb and dumber leave."

This came from a girl seated nearby. The comment was so perfect. I burst into laughter. Which startled the girl.

She asked me about how annoying the boy had been. He annoyed her and several of her seatmates. I explained that such things are just fodder for the blog, and I kind of enjoy them in the moment because of this.

I swear, some days this blog writes itself.