Newbie Read online

  “Will you take properties in lieu of cash?” he asks.

  “Oh, I’d rather not.” She smiles widely at him. “I think you might be bankrupt, dear. I’ll take the cash, and we can sell your properties at public auction.”

  Neil turns toward me and winks. “She’s adorable when she’s ruthless.”

  Here I thought Laura was the peacemaker in the group, but really, she is just as savvy as the rest. Note to self—don’t underestimate Mama.

  “Since you’re out, Paul, could you check on the boys? It sounds like they’re breaking something else downstairs.”

  Soon after Paul’s exit, Elise and I are pushed out of the game too. “Child’s game, huh?” I tease, tossing my properties into the center of the board. Oh, and Free Parking isn’t free. There’s no direct owner of the corner, but if you land on the spot, you get to pay a luxury tax (It’s a luxury because parking is premium on the game board’s real estate.) to whoever rolls the highest number on a die. Neil rolls a six, so I have to pay him six times the highest rental property he owns, including a hefty tourism tax. Yup, I’m out.

  “Game night is usually a little intense. I should have warned you. It isn’t enough to have a strategy to win—we all also play with a strategy to destroy the competition. Parcheesi, Risk, Chinese checkers—it doesn’t matter what we play, the outcome is about the same,” Liam says with a smile. He’s enjoying this. How cute is he when he’s all impassioned by venture capitalism?

  Liam seems to be holding his own until Neil and Laura “need another drink of water”. When they return, they announce they have merged their remaining assets and then stage a hostile takeover of Liam’s holdings.

  “Brilliant,” Liam sighs. His eyes shine with surprise, followed quickly with respect. I wonder what made him leave business and some to a school. Is it just a holiday from his real work, or is he making a change that will be permanent in his life?

  Game over.

  November 24, 2007

  Newbie Blog:

  5-Day Weekend

  I’ve been wondering this week how are holidays are decided. Not just regular holidays, but the federal ones, when banks and schools close. Anyway I think we could use more of them.

  Something I learned this week:

  • White school glue is non-toxic. Though I didn’t learn why anyone would want to smear it on her palms, then lick it off.

  Beth and I are in my empty classroom for planning today, but it doesn’t feel empty with the artwork students have made hanging overhead. It’s quiet of sounds, but loud with reminders of recent lessons hanging on the walls. Beth settles into a small chair at my reading table with a snack bag of cheese crackers while I continue my memory lane side trip.

  “You know, you train to be a teacher for four years in college, having field experiences and even complete a stint in student teaching, but you still don’t know exactly what it’s really like to be a teacher, until you are here doing it, full time. Do you? I mean, no one told me that a booger-loaded six-year-old was going to blow all over my new cashmere jacket. Or that students would give each other haircuts when I turned my back to get more crayons. Or half your class gets hauled into the office for starting World War III using carrot missiles drenched in ranch dressing. Or if you’re only sick one weekend each month, you feel lucky. Or that the little boys would be so confused about using the urinals at the beginning of the year, that they pull their pants down instead of opening their zippers. Of course, all the children walking past as the door opens get mooned.”

  I notice that Beth has stopped cutting. Her expression is blank, but it looks like she’s trying not to look appalled. “What is happening in your classroom?”

  I’m stunned. I thought my class was normal. “I…I…I…” I can’t explain my declaration. I thought it would be a shared experience.

  Beth’s face cracks into a smile, and she begins laughing. “Got you.”

  “Oh, that was mean.” I smile, then ask sheepishly, “So my class is normal?”

  “Yup, as normal as a mob of six-year-olds gets.”

  After planning on Thursday, I walk to Snow Hall to visit Ruby. “It was such a surprise to have you come to my birthday party. I wondered if you would like to visit me, during class, next week. I know the students want to see you again.”

  “Yes, I’d like it very much,” she answers, the rims of her eyes moist.

  “You could just watch or the students could read to you, whatever you’d like.”

  “I’ll have Paul set it up for me. Maybe I could come once or twice a week?” We arrange for her to come for an hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays during reading time.

  December 1, 2007

  Newbie Blog:

  Safety Scissors

  Something I have learned this week:

  1. Safety scissors probably won’t cut fingers, but they will cut hair, in big chunks, rather quickly.

  2. The moms cry about it more than the little girls do. The little girls think they’re pretty.

  Mr. Chavez is sitting at my small table when I enter Tuesday morning and hang up my coat. “I received a phone call late last night that one of our school families has had a tragedy.” The expression on his face makes me wary. He points to a chair, and I sit down. “When I came to work this morning, I learned you have one of the children in your class.”

  My eyes glance at the desks and my mind visualizes each of my students. He continues. “Jade’s mother OD’d last night and was taken to the hospital. They couldn’t save her.”

  My hand flies to the base of my neck. I feel my eyes open wide and my lips part with a little gasp. “What about Jade and her sister? Were they there when it happened?” My pulse is hammering in my chest. Please don’t let the girls have seen their mother die. “How are they? Where are they?”

  “The police took them to Family Services. They’re going to live with their grandparents out of state. I don’t know anything else.”

  “Will we get to say goodbye?”

  “They won’t be coming back.”

  “May we send some notes to her?”

  “I think I can arrange for them to be sent on to their new home. Please just tell your class that Jade has moved. Many families in our boundaries probably saw the ambulance and the police and know what happened. We are going to let the children’s parents give any specifics they want their children to have. Since there’s a police investigation, please don’t pass on any information or rumors.”

  Jade’s face, hidden in her hoodie, dominates my thoughts. It’s hard to lose a parent, and so much harder when you’re only six. I’m staring at her empty desk when Mr. Chavez’s voice pulls my attention. “The school crisis team is available for any students, parents, or employees who need to talk.”

  When we start class, I let the children know Jade moved. Glancing at my students’ faces, I can’t help but imagine the sorrow and fear they would have to find themselves without their moms. Tears are barely behind my eyes, burning with heat, and my voice is soft and low. “If you would like to send Jade a letter to tell her goodbye or that you’re glad she was in our class, I will gather them up and mail them to her.”

  During reading time, Paul pushes Ruby’s wheelchair into our room. “Class, this is. . .” I pause and look at Ruby, wondering what she would like to be called when she visits our class.

  “Grandma Ruby,” she says.

  “Class, Grandma Ruby will be here today and will visit us now and again. During independent time, you can take turns reading to her.” The students begin their independent work, and I call a small group to come read with me. During my lessons, I look over to see Grandma Ruby’s full attention given to her current reader, laughing, reading, and talking. Then a new student steps up with a book. I notice that Anna has taken her writing book and a reading book over to Ruby. She reads the book first, then opens her writing book and reads a story she’s creating. At the end, Ruby gives Anna a one-armed hug. “Sometimes people move, and it makes us sad doesn’t it.”
Anna nods and goes back to her chair.

  Yes, it’s going to be very good for everyone that Grandma Ruby will be part of our class.

  On Thursday, I had a real estate closing on that freak FSBO contract. Yay, an extra paycheck! What shall I do with an extra $3000? It’s like found money. Whatever I do, it should include something spontaneous and fun. My partner and I also have several other offers in from short sales—more found money in my future.

  As soon as I step in the front door of the real estate office, Kevin meets me and asks if we can move the meeting to a restaurant so he can eat while we talk. That actually sounds good—I’m starving.

  After the server takes our order, we start exchanging information about appointments, listings, offers, and leads from this past week and for the coming week. Business is picking up. We have been doing this for a month and have listed ten homes. We’ve also submitted offers for six homes to banks to consider for short sales. I have listing appointments set up for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday evenings next week, and Kevin has two appointments during the daytime. Kevin’s inputting the info into a spreadsheet as we talk, though he clears the table as our breakfast arrives.

  “I didn’t peg you as a red-chile-for-breakfast person,” he comments as I dig into the house special—loaded hash browns topped with two over-easy eggs, chile rojo, and melty cheese.

  “Only when I’m not cooking,” I say, taking another bite.

  “Are you from here?”

  “Yes, I grew up in Denver. How about you?”

  “I grew up in Pueblo and have been living in Denver until last month.” We exchange a few high school and college stories until the server clears away our plates. “I think we should come here for our future meetings,” he says.

  “I agree. Attach the spreadsheet to an email and I’ll update it as I go along next week. I’ll send it back to you before our next meeting.”

  “Speaking of, we won’t have another partnership meeting until the twenty-ninth since I’m gone next week and you’re flying out the following Saturday. You’re going to miss the office Christmas party on the twenty-second.”

  “I will. I’m flying out that morning.” Considering Mom had no idea how much I’d need a vacation about now, this is a huge blessing.

  “Put it off a day. Hawaii will still be there.”

  “Let’s see.” I hold out my left hand. “Hawaii.” I drop my hand lower. “Or office party?” I pop my right hand out. “Hawaii or office party?” I pretend to move my hands as if they are scales to weigh the options. “No, not even close. Hawaii wins.”

  “Okay, but we’ll miss you.”

  “Thanks.” I’m not going there. This is déjà vu of every relationship I’ve ever had. We meet as colleagues. Business picks up. We meet to discuss some deals. A less-than-romantic relationship follows. Not again.

  “You can make it up to me.” He pauses and looks seriously at my face. “I really haven’t been in town very long, and I haven’t met a lot of people who aren’t trying desperately to sell a home. I wondered if you have plans for New Year’s Eve.”

  I don’t. I might. I haven’t talked to Liam about that yet. Do I even want to open the conversation with Kevin that I’m seeing someone? Instead I respond, “Kevin, I don’t want to mess up our partnership. You know—if we dated and it didn’t work out. The partnership is going well. I think we should leave it at business.”

  “It wouldn’t technically be a date—just the company of someone I feel comfortable with at a party where I may not know anyone.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll keep us business-only.”

  “Okay, but if you change your mind, let me know. I’m sure I’ll be open that night.”

  I give him a smile and slip out the door. As I’m driving home, I think about how well the partnership is going. Kevin makes the initial contact with the sellers and sets up appointments for me to do a listing call. Then I transfer the paperwork back to him. I mostly do showings and presenting offers, then he communicates with the banks and title companies. The way it looks right now, we are set to have two or three closings a month. Since we’re splitting the commissions, I will see about two to three thousand a month. Yes—doubling my current income with only three evenings of effort each week. This partnership is definitely working out well.

  December 8, 2007

  Newbie Blog:

  Life Goes On Even When it Doesn’t

  The mother of one of my students died this week of a drug overdose. My student was gone the next day. No hug or good-bye—just whisked off to a new life. She hurts, and I hurt for her. A young mother died and we wrote a note to the survivor, then had a math lesson.

  Teachers have a front-row seat to the consequences of adult choices on child victims.

  • An adult does drugs…a child grows up without a mother.

  • An adult is violent…a child is broken and bruised.

  • An adult breaks the law…a child is sent to live with strangers.

  I know this is a simplistic and narrow view of social challenges. If they were so easy to define, we would have solved them already. But for most of each day, I live simply in the wonder of childhood. Teaching is so important. For a few children, the best thing that happened to them on a given day happened with a teacher at school. They were safe, noticed, fed, warm and loved. Sometimes a teacher’s gift to the world is one good day for a child, and I sincerely hope it’s many more than one.

  Something I’ve learned:

  In a previous blog, I wrote that one child matters and one year matters. Can I change that?

  One child matters.

  One day matters.

  “Chad, could you come read to me today? Everyone else, start reading the books in your boxes.” Chad sits beside me, holding the book he read yesterday during his reading lesson. I read the title out loud. “Where is my boot?

  Chad opens the book to the title page and reads, “Where is my boot?” I settle beside him to take notes. He begins reading on the next page.

  “Mom, where is my boot?” Then he turns to me and says, pointing to the character’s foot, “See, he only has one boot on and he wants to go outside to play in the snow or build a snowman. I built a snowman in my backyard. My Uncle Ron helped me. First you have to make a snowball…”

  “Chad, could you come back to this story?” I say, putting my hand on the page. “Please keep reading.”

  “Is it u-u-u-n-d-un-d-e-r…what’s that word?”

  “Under.”

  “…the bed—b-bed?”

  “Go back and reread the page now.”

  I tap on the book to draw his attention back to the last page he read.

  He struggles for several more minutes, on every page, on every sentence, on practically every word. “Thanks for reading to me, Chad. You can go back to your desk.” Oh. My. Gosh. That was painful. It should have taken like one, maybe two minutes to read that little book instead of the seven minutes we just spent. I need to plan in some extra practice time for Chad with Mrs. Milton on Mondays and Wednesdays and with Ruby on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

  December 15, 2007

  Newbie Blog:

  ’Twas the Week Before Christmas

  ’Twas the week before Christmas

  and all through the school,

  The students were bundled;

  the days were so cool.

  The jackets were hung

  on the hooks without care.

  Gloves, mittens and scarves

  were thrown everywhere.

  And each time at recess, just like I said,

  They went out with hats—

  but came back with wet heads.

  I too am wrapped up

  with boots and a cap,

  While the warm days of springtime

  are taking a nap.

  The least mention of presents

  draws out noisy chatter.

  The holiday’s coming.

  Now what else could matter?

  We are singi
ng some carols

  and coloring elves,

  We’ve read every holiday

  book on our shelves.

  Next week, parents (?)

  will throw us a party again

  With hot apple cider

  and gingerbread men.

  Then children will dream

  of a sleigh with reindeer.

  When the bell rings on Thursday,

  the teachers will cheer!

  Something I’ve learned:

  1. Holidays are here for the sanity of the teachers. Oh, and the students probably enjoy them too.

  2. It was eighty-two degrees in Oahu today!

  Last night, I woke up several times panicked, dreaming that Mrs. Duran, our parent volunteer for the class holiday party, didn’t show up. Mina is on alert, as is Mrs. Milton, just in case. I’ve checked with Anna’s mom though, and she assures me that everything is arranged, and she will be here on Friday to set up half an hour before the party.

  Mrs. Hays has been saving the best for last. She’s worn a different Christmas sweater every day this week, getting more outrageous each day. I’ve seen crazy sweaters on some of the other teachers, but Mrs. Hays takes it to a different level. I really don’t know how she’s going to top today’s sweater, which looks like a simple variegated green garland design. The yarn is loose on the edges and the garland has a sort of 3-D effect. However, the wow factor is dozens of little colored lights strung through the garland in the front panels that actually light up and blink.

  I will never buy a teacher sweater. Never.

  On Friday, precisely at one, Mrs. Duran enters with Mrs. James, Kyra’s mother, for our class party. (Yay! I’ll call Mina to let her know to stand down.) Each of them is carrying bags and towing a toddler, who must be joining us too.