4 Apr 07

Time:

?

Money:

$a lot. This was the breakfast, lunch, Teuscher, Borders, Gap, Levi's, cab, dinner day, but worth it all, I think.

More interesting things:

Sat across from a dad and a little girl who so much reminded me of my own three-year-old days that watching them wasn't enough and I had to turn off my iPod so I could also listen to them. Dad was trying to balance the Wall Street Journal and Kid (maybe about five), who was in turn trying to balance herself and her stuffed dalmatian on Dad's lap. Dad was being pretty considerate about it - he didn't ignore the fact that Kid was sort of slipping off - and this combined with the fact that Kid appeared to be commenting on what she saw in the newspaper is what made me pay closer attention. The first thing I heard: Kid points to a line in the paper and asks, "Don't they make chocolate?"; Dad responds, "Yes, chocolate, Jolly Ranchers, and Altoids, I think - you know, those little mints?"; Kid gives a thoughtful nod and makes sure the dalmatian can read along too. The second thing: Dad asks, "So, what do you think Mommy is doing right now?"; Kid ponders for a moment before answering, "Mommy is lying around with Alex. [Thinks a little more.] I think they have a play date today." The third thing: Dad says, "So, what are you going to do later? Make some important phone calls?" [It's clear from the way he phrases it that this is something Kid herself has come up with in the past.]; Kid wrinkles her nose and comes back with something about Grandma and Grandpa but that she really doesn't like the speaker phone. By the time we got to Grand Central, where Dad sort of hoisted Kid up by the waist and waddled off the train, I was thoroughly lost in my OWN pondering about how similar this seemed to events I'm familiar with, and how that is yet another New York rugrat who probably won't have to worry about her SAT score.

Got one of those brilliant smiles from Professor Alpha-and-a-Half in an sighting that - thankfully - seems to be becoming more and more common. She was dodging her way into the packed meeting room, where she'd be presenting in a few minutes, and once again I had cause to be so, so grateful (and still a little pleasantly bewildered) that these people attend to their "doc stu's": they got to know us before they got to meet us, and for whatever friendly and welcoming reason, they have maintained that interest right along.

Turned a little red when during his presentation Professor Number Six noted for my benefit and the benefit of anyone else who was listening reasonably closely (he didn't say it all that loud, thankfully, although it was in usual emphatic manner) that there were some "discontinuities" between scores on his Rubric, and that “some of my students noted this in their papers – you did,” with the last part eyebrow-crunched at me.

Laughed as quietly as possible with Anne and Marisa at the sight to behold on the far side of the room. Professor Alpha (all hail his triumphant return…) had parked himself, not surprisingly, next to Professor Number Four; what with all the goofy smiles and the paper-sharing and the poking and the peering at what he was writing which positioned Alpha’s head nearly at rest on Number Four’s shoulder, we should have invited a Justice of the Peace.

Thought for a minute about the very new (and therefore still kind of weird) but much appreciated dynamic involved when your teachers are also your mentors in your quest to go right up to their level. I mean, when you’re in ninth grade, your math teacher is not trying to turn you into another math teacher: you’re not grown and you don’t necessarily care about math, but even if you do it’s going to be awhile and you’ll probably change your mind before you get that far. This is, I think, what caused ol’ JVL to look at me kind of funny when I told him about my plan, and why there was always a note of “we’ll see…” in Dr. P.’s responses to the same announcement, and why it was so nice that Dr. B. didn’t do either of those things. Here, however, these are professors, and I want to be a professor, and at this point I think they pretty much believe me, which they constantly prove in the way they treat us. For all my pondering of my favorite cliff-climbing metaphor, I never really thought it would happen to such a great extent. Pretty freakin’ cool.

Laughed again when Professor Number Six assured us students of his that he would “even give [us] a citation” if he used what we’d put in our papers. This is the honest way to handle it, of course, but I don’t think everyone plays that way and the generosity is really lovely.

Realized why – get ready for the groupie factor, folks! – I think Professor Alpha’s hair is actually more punk kept short than it would have seemed in a ponytail: he does that thing I like where you cut hair and beard all the same length. Very cool.

Got invited to Professor Alpha’s speech tomorrow; we figured out pretty quickly that I probably would not be able to go (what with all that pesky teaching stuff getting in the way…) but even the thought that I almost got to hang with him for several hours straight, including on a train – which I love anyway – and in his car – prime opportunity for the gathering of more useless but nosy information, is quite feckin’ cool. Frustrating, too. But cool.

Waited somewhat patiently with Anne to drop a large sum of money on well-traveled chocolate behind a blonde lady who opened her commentary by announcing that the pilots would really appreciate some candy. The guy behind the counter was clearly confused; I think he was trying to figure out how she was going to get through the locked metal door with the big blue “NOT ALLOWED” signs on it to hand out some truffles when she put an end to his brain strain by adding fake-matter-of-factly that it was a private plane. A few seconds later, she supplemented her explanation of the candy choices she’d made by explaining that she wasn’t sure the Easter Bunny would be able to find them “in Cabo.” If I could have thought any faster, I would have done what my mom later suggested and responded with, “Oh, he can always find you – he managed to get to us when we were in Venice last year!”, but I’m sure you’ll excuse me for being a little dumbstruck.

Closed our Night of Rained-On But Largely Victorious Schlepping by consuming a Cuban sandwich with black beans at Anne’s apartment. I was wiped out, but it was a nice relaxing close to our hours-long and – almost exclusively thanks to Anne – largely successful shopping venture. We didn’t make it to the coffee house (next time!), but we had fun.