Toga party!

The ninth grade English classes are doing research papers on aspect of Greek and Roman life - what kinds of jobs people had, what they did for fun, what they ate, how they fought, what their music sounded like - all my favorite stuff. In graduate school (art history school, not library school!) I wrote my thesis about Greek jewelry, because I think that people's everyday personal objects tell us what we really want to know. Their literature and marble buildings tell us some very fine things about them, truly, but how a lady wore her hair or whether she liked long necklaces or short gives us a more evocative peek into her mindset, I think. Certainly what they ate makes us grateful to be in the 21st century - you were picturing a nice Greek salad and some baklava? Sorry. Not in 450 BC - try coarse bread and olives, some fish if you were wealthy.

So I got to host the ninth graders here in the library all week and point out where the best books are for their subjects, introduce them to the mysteries of double-sided copying, and offer to be of service for search terms and suggestions. I'm pleased to say they took me seriously, and I've been fielding requests ever since. In many cases I've copied articles from some of the larger books to preserve their bindings (but you have to do the bibliography work yourself - there's no free lunch!) So you out there, if you're looking for that article on how to fold your peplos or what silphium tasted like . . . see me at the desk!

Incidentally, for you sharp-eyed folk who looked at the picture: the Greeks didn't wear togas. They wore all kinds of other big folded and pinned pieces of cloth, but not togas. Go ahead, ask me about it. I'm here weekdays until 4:30.

Not quite infinity, but definitely the future

Last night was the 100 Days, excuse me, 86 Days Dinner. It was well-attended by two Belles, one Cruella, three Minnie Mouses (Minnie Mice?) two Jack Sparrows, three or four toy soldiers, Winnie the Pooh, Ursula, Tigger, Pocahontas, the whole Cool Runnings bobsled team, Tinkerbell, Hades, Hercules and his muse, and Jiminy Cricket, just to name a few. But the real showdown was between the two Woodys. Dan B. looked great, but Mr. Newhams looked even greater. (Sorry Dan.) And in a beautiful bit of symmetry, Dan's tribute to Mr. Newhams left many of us a little moist around the eyes.

One of the things I enjoyed most was hearing about all the accomplishments of my colleagues and what an impression they have left on our soon-to-be graduates. It's a good feeling to know I am among such a caring, skilled group of teachers and I am glad to be counted among them. I was also impressed by the public speaking abilities of our seniors; not everyone finishes high school with such a well-developed sense of calm behind a podium addressing a crowd and it's a more useful skill than you might think.

Eighty-five days left to go. Time flies, huh?

100 days to go

Happy March! Tonight is the 100 Days Dinner, an event at which senior students and their teachers enjoy an evening of togetherness over country-club food. But that's not all. Because I'm a newbie, I had no idea of the entertainment. Not only are all attendants required to come in costume, but each teacher is lauded by several students with original speeches about his or her fine qualities. This year's theme is Disney, and if I told you how much of my week I spent researching characters and their attributes for students and faculty, you'd be amazed. But do credit my professionalism: you want information, and I provide it, whatever it is.

The best term I can use to describe what I feel for the students . . . is pity. That's right, pity. Why? Because that's an impossible task. For those of you who have known your teachers since seventh grade, how do you encapsulate all you might feel for them in a minute or two? And in my case, nine of you have only had me as a teacher since January - how could you actually fill a minute or two? Furthermore, it's a tribute, not a roast, so you can't be funny, and report cards come out on the 26th, so you can't be honest either! You don't want to be sappy, because that's embarrassing and your fellows are watching. You don't want to be lame, because, well, that's lame.

So yeah, I pity you, you poor dears. On the other hand, I feel lucky as heck because I get to dress up in blue velvet pantaloons and eat some lovely chicken dinner while at least two or three of you tell me how great I am, and then of course I get to blog about it the next day. See you at 6:30!