I was standing at the corner of 25th and 17th (I’m guessing one of those was a street and one was an avenue!) with several other people, mostly family. Community East Hospital was just across the street. Some of us were going in the hospital and some of us were going somewhere else. I was somewhat in charge of those of us going somewhere else. We were making arrangements to meet back at this intersection later in the day.
As we were standing there, I noticed a handful of preteen girls walking down the street wearing hats that were crocheted but looked like afros or dreadlocks. I remember thinking, what a cute idea, why hadn't anyone thought about it before. They were done with variegated yarn and were very colorful.
The next thing I know, I’m teaching my seventh graders their last religion class of the year at my parents’ house. Only a few of them showed up. At one point, one of the boys was really getting on my nerves. So, I went to the whiteboard and made his grade a D. He said something about me taking my frustration on the kids who didn’t show up out on him. I realized he was right, but I didn’t change his grade. (Like I even give out grades!)
The next thing I remember, we were running late and I needed to get the kids back to where they were being picked up. I don’t know why they weren’t being picked up at my parents’. And I don’t know how we got there without a vehicle. But we were running from there to my house to get to a vehicle.
While running that way, Erin (my sister) was there and was gloating about getting valedictorian because so many others didn’t show up. I don’t know when Erin got there; it’s not like she was ever part of the class before. But I remember thinking, “I wonder why Erin, a 32 year old woman, is competing with 7th graders for valedictorian and why is she bragging about this feat?”
When we got to my house, we got in the van. Edna’s van. To the best of my knowledge, Edna doesn’t have a van in real life, but that’s not important. We all jump in; I’m in the passenger seat. The van is parked along the side of the road, pointing north. This means that it’s not pointed in the direction of the street where we need to go. And instead of just doing a three-point turn right there, the driver went up the dead-end street to do a u-turn. Before we got to the end cul-de-sac, there was a yellow and red DHL truck pointed right at us. It seemed to be going very fast, but then slammed on the brakes or something because it ended up bouncing on it’s rear wheels with its front end off the ground and spinning around like it was break-dancing. I just remember thinking, “We don’t have time for this. Hurry the heck up!”
Finally we were on our way and got the kids dropped off just a minute or two late. On the way home, my cell phone rang. It was the mother of one of the kids who didn't show up, whose son I taught during my first year of teaching five years ago. She was calling to let me know that she’d have her son there tomorrow night. I very rudely told her that I wouldn’t be there, that the last class was tonight and that it was over, and that I was not going to teach the damn thing again. She was very upset, but I hung up on her.
