Posts Tagged ‘state’
As a school photographer, I take pictures at schools. It was only a matter of time before the school I student taught at would come up. I worried at first, given my history.
Fortunately, my initial anxiety proved unfounded — besides the customarily cool-blooded greeting I always got from a certain teacher, puzzled indignation from across the room by way of another, and an awkward, friendly joviality from the principal, taking pictures there was a blast. Of course, once word got around that I was on campus, and I use that cliche liberally, just a few familiar faces came up to say hello.
Four of my trouble students stopped by; since last semester, these now-juniors had decided to get back on track. As they left, I ensured they had their priorities straight.
You’re graduating; you’re going to college — right? All of them, unequivocally, gave me the right answer.
I accept it, because, as my master teacher had noted, even if they’re telling me what I want to hear, at least they’re hearing themselves say it. One of the students went as far as to say that I was his favorite teacher, and the reason he was doing better this semester, but I doubt it — his parents weren’t happy come open house, and he always did tend to gild the lily.
The long-haired pothead who played hooky more often than not, and was more than a little belligerent during my student teaching semester, got a buzzcut and earned a honor roll grade-point average this semester. Because he had the most dramatic turnaround, I took the time to get in one more piece of advice as he sauntered away:
Don’t aim for City College: Shoot for State.
What are you talking about? I’m shooting for Harvard.
That’s the spirit.
While I was up in Sacramento for the state fair and to see a very special Weird Al show, I had the pleasure of seeing one of my uncles on my mother’s side. Truth be told, the trip to Sacramento, the admission to the fair and the ticket for the very special Weird Al show were all at his expense, right down to the gas money.
I was more grateful than I could think to express. Thank you just didn’t seem to cover it, and I decided to get in as many as I could while there.
As if all that weren’t enough, he gave me all the leftover foodstuffs he and my aunt decided they didn’t want, anymore. Besides tomato juice older than some fifth graders I know — this stuff never goes bad, he said — and enough tuna to make nightly casseroles through a week of Sundays, he gave me several varieties of coffee and tea, two Bankers boxes filled with soda, and almost 4 pounds of beef jerky of various varieties. Among many, many other things.
One of these things, in particular, was not foodstuffs, napkins or microwavable bowls at all — it was one of them newfangled GPS systems. Shock, awe and thankfulness, all over again.
He had one lying around and, because I’m now gainfully employed as a school photographer, he thought I could use it. I could, I can and I have.
In — four hundred — yards. Turn — right. Then — stay in the — left — lane.
Wouldn’t it be great if these handy little time-saving gadgets didn’t pretend their English was anything but broken?
My sister isn’t quite three-and-a-half years younger than I am, though whenever I think of that, I can’t help but feel as if we’re closer in age than that. After all, she’s in college. I just got out.
For her own reasons, she decided to attend my alma mater. I’m not sure why she chose the same college I did, though I speculate that her justifications weren’t all that different from my own.
I chose Fresno State because, at the time, it was relatively cheap, it was easy to get into and, as an afterthought, because it had a pretty great marching band. Depending on who you ask, it still does.
I’m not sure whether or not to be flattered that, in some part, she’s following in my footsteps. She joined the marching band, full of too many old acquaintances to count. Her room is in my old dorm, even if she’s on the other side of the building. Her ARD is my first ex-girlfriend.
I only worry because, years ago, she had made a habit of following in my footsteps. The way Dad tells it, my sister was my biggest fan back when we were both in the single-digits, and it didn’t stop until she hit adolescence. I’d hate to think that we’re falling back on old habits — among other things, college is about piecing together self-sufficiency, not about throwing it out.
Even if she did choose my alma mater for the sake of following in my footsteps, the argument is moot. She’s there now, and, God willing, she’ll earn her degree sometime during Obama’s re-election campaign.
For her own good, I should be and will be letting her make her own decisions. I can only hope that she makes more friends, burns fewer bridges and earns better grades than I did.
I imagine the adults in our lives feel the same way.
