Summer's Over . . .

Even though the calendar states that Summer isn't over until September 23rd, for those of us who work in education, it's time to put away our beach towels and comfy clothes.

I had a marvelous summer break.  After obsessing and planning over my 40th birthday party, it went off without too many hitches.  Family and friends filled our modest home and spilled out into the yard.  We put some living room furniture outside to accommodate the karaoke set-up.  I borrowed and rented tables and chairs and a huge jumpy with a slide.  We declared our son's room off limits, so we went on a toy buying spree at Dollar Tree.  Whether the toys survived the party or not didn't matter.  We sanded and painted his tree fort, reinforcing the loose boards and making it cooler and more child friendly.  I ordered unicorn themed decorations to symbolize my inner child.  The party went late into the night.  Friends slept in the furniture out front and in the jumpy.  It was a good time. 

My son and I singing Karaoke.   A Sabbath song, I think.

Mark n Captain Mady

Chef Mady with Auntie Judy, baking Smore Bars on the Houseboat.

Cousins in the Kayak

Two weeks later we went on our ?th annual houseboat trip.  I have lost count of the times we have packed up food and entertainment and driven to Nevada to soak in the lake and enjoy each other's company.  For those of you who have never been on a houseboat trip, there isn't much to it.  Just make sure you invite people who are flexible and fun-minded, bring lots of snacks, and plenty of ice.  I bring along books, movies, games for the kids, and a few changes of clothes.  My husband prides himself on bringing only a pair of swim trunks and a few t-shirts.  This year's trip was bittersweet, being the first one without our beloved Punky (E's father, who died last Labor Day).  At one point, walking up the dock to the store, my breath caught as I saw a broad-backed man filling an inntertube with air.  For a moment, it looked just like my father-in-law, who would be pleased that we continued our traditional summer trip.  This year my brother-in-law drove the boat to the landing spot just right, letting one of the children "help" steer, just like Punky used to.  On our last night, we took a bottle of Punky's favorite Bushmill's whiskey to the top of the boat.  We poured a shot for each of us, plus one for him.  Emotions spilled over as we remembered this amazing man, gone too soon.

I spent the rest of the summer playing mom and chauffeur to my son and his friends, watching movies, reading books, and stripping a new-to-us dining room table.  I love my sander.  With my i-pod blasting tunes in my ear and the wood showing it's true beauty out from under the old stain, I am in heaven.  I still need to re-stain the table, but as the raw wood is just so gorgeous to me, I am loathe to cover it up, even though I know I need to protect the wood and match the table to the chairs.

I went back to work a little early to clear out a room in the library that is now the student store, as well as to help with registration.  I erased the anti-"others" sentiment from the door and put in a request to the custodial staff to clean off the sharpied curse words on my book drop.  I entered to find the usual "mystery" boxes that had been left in the library by those who feel that when in doubt, the library's the place to put it.  Sometimes these are welcome surprises, other times I wonder, "what were they thinking???"

Yesterday was the first day of school.  Students and their parents packed the hallways, waiting to get their class schedules.  Staff was working as efficiently as possible.  Purple papers meant the students had to stay in the MPR, they needed to meet with the principal in regards to their low G.P.A.  Green dots meant their registration packets weren't complete.  Red dots meant they still needed to show proof of their Pertussis immunization to the nurse.  The little 6th graders looked eager and fresh, if not a little nervous about finding their way around.  The 7th and 8th graders were more interested in their class schedules and comparing them with their friends'.  By 2 hours into it, I was finally back into my sanctum, the glorious library.  I had requested fewer Teacher Assistants this year, as last year, I learned that more student helpers were definitely a hindrance to efficiency.  I had 3 returning helpers and 1 new.  I was closed to the general public at lunch, but some of my regulars snuck past security and with the familiar faces around me, it felt like an extension of the year before. 

Summer already seems far away, although the weather is too hot for my cute Fall clothing.  I am surrounded by textbooks that will be distributed next week.  Earlier today, one of my students asked what I was going to dress up as for Halloween.  Yup.  Summer's over.                           Thanks for listening.

"You, My Fine Friend, Have Entered Doll Time."

"Do you have a book about a rabbit named Edward Tulane?" a student of mine asked me about a week ago?  I checked the computer catalogue.  Nope.  I went to the Internet and found it online.  The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate KiCamillo.  Hmmm.  $4?  I think we can manage that.  (By the way, I am going to promote Abe Books ad nauseam.  I find amazing deals here weekly and help make both kids and myself happy really inexpensivelyy.) 

"We don't have it, but I could get it.  Would you like me to?"  I asked.  "Yes, please."  (Oh, how I especially love the ones with manners.)  "Ok.  It'll take at least a week, but I'll let you know when it comes in and I have it ready for you,"  I told her. 

The book arrived last weekend and I was drawn to the cover art.  Kate DiCamillo, the author, had written The Tale of Despereaux,  the heart-wrenching mouse and princess story which my son and I had listened to on audio just last summer.  The story had been emotional and magical.  (No, I haven't seen the movie and can't compare it.  Maybe later . . .)  I thought I might just peek inside this book and see just what was so special that a student would remember it and ask for it. 

Edward is a custom-made china doll that had been commissioned by a woman for her granddaughter.  He had hinged arms and legs and sported real rabbit fur, although "whom the whiskers had belonged to initially-what unsavory animal-was a question that Edward could not bear to consider for too long."  Edward has a wardrobe of fine clothing and his little mistress, Abilene, dotes on him.  He sits at the table while the family has their meals, much to the amusement of Abilene's parents.  The grandmother, Pellegrina, on the other hand, seems to know that Edward is more than just a doll, and she is disappointed in his snotty attitude.

I was hooked by page 16, when the neighboring Boxer comes into the house "uninvited and unannounced" and commences to urinate on the white tablecloth and shake Edward back and forth "vigorously, growling and drooling." 

We have a boxer and I could just see ours pulling the same stunts.  I decided to keep the book just a little longer, just to see where the story might go.  Well, tonight I put off the dishes and sat for about 30 minutes, reading this book up like a bowl of gravy with rice.  Edward starts off as a vain, contemptuous, bored rabbit; ignoring the babbling of his adoring charge.  He is taken on a cruise with the family and is accidentally flung into the ocean by some teasing boys.  All the stricken Abilene is left with is his fine pocket watch.

Spoiler alert:  I will just quote the Coda, which summarizes the rest of the story, which had me weeping into a towel. 

Once, there was a China Rabbit who was loved by a little girl.  the rabbit went on an ocean journey and fell overboard and was rescued by a fisherman.  He was buried under garbage and unburied by a dog.  He traveled for a long time with the hobos and worked for a short time as a scarecrow.

Once, there was a rabbit who loved a little girl and watched her die.

The rabbit danced on the streets of Memphis.  His head was broken open in a diner and was put together again by a doll mender.

And the rabbit swore that he would not make the mistake of loving again.

Once there was a rabbit who danced in a garden in springtime with the daughter of the woman who had loved him at the beginning of his journey.  The girl swung the rabbit as she danced in circles.  Sometimes, they went so fast, the two of them, that it seemed as if they were flying.  Sometimes, it seemed as if they both had wings.

Once, oh marvelous once, there was a rabbit who found his way home.

I loved the message that DiCamillo expressed on page 189.  Edward is sitting on a shelf in the doll mender's shop, feeling empty and like nothing is worth anything.  A 100-year-old doll is placed next to him on the shelf.  She has been on a long journey and wonders who will come for her next. 

"I don't care if anyone comes for me," said Edward.
"But that's dreadful," said the old doll.  "There's no point in going on if you feel that way.  No point at all.  You must be filled with expectancy.  You must be awash in hope.  you must wonder who will love you, whom you will love next. "
"I am done with being loved," Edward told her.  "I'm done with loving.  It's too painful."
"Pish," said the old doll.  "Where is your courage?"
"Somewhere else, I guess," said Edward.
"You disappoint me," she said.  "You disappoint me greatly.  If you have no intention of loving or being loved, then the whole journey is pointless.  You might as well leap from this shelf right now and let yourself shatter into a million pieces.  Get it over with.  Get it all over with now."
"I would leap if I was able," said Edward.
"Shall I push you?" said the old doll.
"No, thank you," Edward said to her. "Not that you could," he muttered to himself. 

I found the book lovely.  Special.  One of the good ones.  Tomorrow I'll take it to school, stick on a barcode and a date due paper, cover it in plastic and let the sweet girl know her book is ready.  When she brings it back, I will place it on my "Mrs. E's Pick Favorite's" shelf.                               Thanks for listening.