iphone be gone

yesterday, tuesday, 4pm, the early hours of halloween, i found myself stumped,

due to my lack of focus.

it all started when i had hauled all my teaching gear to my crossover vehicle.

– well, the reading manual, so that i could figure out my next plan for the students, and a big fat AVID book, where i would find info to help me conduct a productive note-taking lesson with the kids –

anyway… i put those two texts onto the back floor of my car,

along with my white jansport backpack, a round fluffy Rugrat (Tommy specific) knapsack, the one i recently reclaimed, one that once belonged roberto, long ago, when he was a rugrat himself, and next to my macbook air,

i’m floundering, unfocused…

this is about my iphone; not my afterwork, parking lot life.

well, actually, the parking lot plays a big role here.

before i sat in the driver’s seat, i realized my phone wasn’t with me.

which, honestly, it isn’t unusual that i didn’t have it because i really don’t carry it with me much… whereby on the other hand, it’s actually amazing that i even noticed i had forgotten it… because i really don’t carry it with me much.

you get what i mean?

well now, after noticing the missing phone, i trekked back to classroom, hunted around for it, but couldn’t find anything remotely resembling my 2 1/2 year old white iphone.

hum.

i walked back to the car, sifted through my stuff, again, only to note that the phone was definitely not there.

once again, i unlocked both gates, walked back to class, lifted every paper and book, and found nothing except more papers and books. i stood there, near my desk and wondered.

hum.

and then i remembered that i had been cutting artwork out to hang up in the window so that the sun’s shine made the oily bones of the kids finger prints glow – which was actually pretty cool, a fun project for sure…

i was cutting the hand shapes, letting the fallen pieces of paper gather on top of my desk and when done i threw the paper in the trash.

no! i thought. no way. i did not throw my iphone away.

did i?

back at the car, i texted brad from my computer – thank goodness the internet was available out in the parking lot – then i walked to the trash can.

this is what i texted him, literally:

can you call my phone… i can’t find it… call a few times… i am outside by the trash then i need to go in the class…. keep calling until i answer it… if i call you good… if i don’t bad… i will message on my computer if i can’t find it… or my phone if i do…

he messaged back, OK.

i lifted out what i knew was my plastic bag of debris. the sprinkles of colored paper gave it away. then i walked back towards my vehicle and i placed the trash bag into the back of my car thinking that maybe i was overlooking the phone. something told me i was on the right track, but my thinking wasn’t concise. so, i decided i’d take the trash home and investigate there, just in case. i surely didn’t want to make a mess right there, at my place of employment.

that’d look odd. right?

seriously, though, no regrets.

that’s my motto, you see.

i heard no Old Phone ringing.

in the meantime, i assumed brad was continuously calling me because i hadn’t called or texted him back.

i walked back to class.

nothing.

i walked back to the car.

nothing.

opened the rover’s hatchback.

rifled through the bag of papers.

and then i heard it. ever so faint. my phone, ringing. coming from the trash bag. i stuck my hand inside. swirled it around. and found ‘the missing link’.

yes!

i answered brad’s call as i was walking the semi-heavy ladened trash to the large receptacle in the school’s parking lot.

 

just do it

i have a pile of books to filter through. lessons to lightly write. work to get done. yet. here i sit. unwilling to get on-task. me. a teacher. always reminding my students to stay on task. to concentrate. to get their work done. but, i am finding that the task, though necessary, has not quite found its way into my educator thoughts.

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in a while, i will sit in front of those school books. those teacher’s manuals. and i will review. yes i will. because, review i must. for my own sanity. and to ensure starting the year off right, properly educating students. who will be depending on me to fill their days with classroom ooo’s and aaah’s, and just as important, life lessons.

but first, i need to sit here and think.

“mom, can we talk?” brad asks.
“yeah, sure,” i say, with a smile.

i guess my teacher tasks will have to wait even longer to imprint my brain with information.

Reality Bites Another Day, S1 E2

Today’s post is the flip side of yesterday’s post Reality Bites.

remote control

Anne, once again, plopped herself down on the overstuffed couch, tossed off her shoes, and turned on the TV. Another afternoon of Reality Bites to fulfill her guilty pleasure. That is, watch the five clueless (about the fact their lives are being recorded second by second, day after day) young college students talk about private matters and, hopefully, do yet another jaw dropping activity. Another day for Anne to lose herself into their world, escaping from her own.

As Anne watched the TV screen, the character named Carrie sat in a quiet corner talking on the phone with her boyfriend. Telling him things Anne was pretty sure Carrie wouldn’t be saying if she knew the world was listening in. As she was talking to him, Carrie was also holding a framed photo of her boyfriend. Admiring his shirtless torso.

What Carrie didn’t know was that a teeny tiny camera had been installed into the frame so that the TV audience was seeing a close-up of her dreamy face as she spoke to her lover.

Suddenly, Carrie pulled the frame away, then brought it right back, close to her face, making her features look magnified. “Whoa. That’s strange,” she began, speaking to her beau, and anyone watching the show, “but I have a freaky feeling that I’m being watched.”

She felt shaken. Odd. Like something was a bit off. Yet, she had no explanation as to why.

“Well,” her boyfriend laughed, “I hope not. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want anyone hearing what you plan on doing to me. Not that I’d mind!” He laughed, loud.

Anne was starring into Carrie’s eyes. All she could do was push her body further back into the couch, tensing all her muscles. She let out a deep, unexpected gasp.

An Ode To Writers

The following conversation occurred several years ago. It still holds true today. Writing isn’t a quick job, or hobby, but rather it takes time to ‘Get to the Point’ as multiple thoughts are jotted down. Which are then arranged and rearranged appropriately, followed by tons of editing. And editing is what takes the most time before hitting the PUBLISH button. I applaud those who have written and published their work, garnering a reader’s want for more. Bravo.  

“Are you done yet, Mom? You said we would watch a movie together.”

My son was sitting, waiting patiently on the couch.

“One minute. I just need to edit this. Make sure it makes sense. Includes all the important details,” I respond, not looking his way.

“It really has surprised me how much time it takes to write one piece,” I add, to myself.

I finish. Half an hour later.

“Movie?” she questions.

“Yeah. But hold on. I am working on something.” His eyes are focused on the laptop’s screen.

“Okay. Let me know when you are ready.” I walk back to the desktop computer. Open my post. Re-read it for any errors. Make sure it’s coherent.

I find a flaw. Or two.
A misspelled word.
A sentence that needs a pronoun.

“Mom? I’m ready,” my son says.

“One minute. I just need to edit this.”

Writing.

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“Are you done yet, Mom? You said we will watch a movie together.”

Her son is sitting, waiting patiently.

Her face is aglow from the light of the computer.

“One minute. I just need to edit this. Make sure it makes sense. I’ve got to include all the important details,” she responds, not looking his way. “It really has surprised me how much time it takes to write one piece,” she adds, to herself.

But, then.

Finally.

She’s finished.

“Movie?” she questions.

“Yeah. But hold on. I am working on something,”  her son answers.

His eyes are focused on his laptop’s screen.

“Okay. Let me know when you are ready.”

She looks back at the desktop computer.

Opens her post.

Re-reads it for any errors.

Makes sure it’s coherent.

She finds a flaw.

Or two.

A misspelled word.

A sentence that needs a pronoun.

“Mom? I’m ready,” her son says.

“One minute. I just need to edit this,” she mumbles.