Let them eat cake

Well. I'm thirty.

I'm surprisingly un-angsty about this. I'm a much healthier, happier person now than I was when I turned twenty; I mean, I loved college and everything -- a lot, really -- but I wouldn't change a thing about my life right now. Okay, that's a lie. I wish I had a little more patience and a little more grace. I wish I didn't take myself so seriously sometimes. I wish my dishwasher didn't sound like a dying cow (Aaron? Want to take a look at it?) and I wish, oh, maybe that I actually knew how to successfully apply make-up or use a hair straightener.

But ultimately, I'm trying very hard to count my blessings as I enter my thirtieth year. I'm married to a wonderful man, one who really gets me, God bless him (he is the one with the patience and grace, I think). We have a perfect little girl who is more than I could ever ask for or deserve. I love the work that I do. I have stacks of notebooks, good pens, and plenty to read. This is a good life.

As you may recall, I have a little rule about writing about school here -- as in, I don't usually do it. It's kind of unfortunate, because teaching feeds me with so many stories, but I'm not comfortable writing about it in such a public space for obvious reasons. However, I'm going to break that rule for a moment and love on my sophomores a little bit, because they made my day yesterday.

First of all, I love my sophomores this semester. They're crazy and very loud, but they're also pretty loveable. And very, very good at being fifteen. Sometimes, at the end of the day, teaching them is like teaching in a beehive. A few weeks ago, on a Friday afternoon, I was standing in front of them wracking my brain for tricks to make them do something productive -- something that resembled the work high school students are supposed to do in an English class -- or at least, you know, peel them off the ceiling. I swear, they all drink five Red Bulls before they come to my class. I think I vaguely remember clutching my head an announcing that my brain was starting to leak out my ear, and I know I threatened one poor boy in the front row with actual bodily harm (but it's cool, I know his mom and she totally gave me permission). Finally, one of them yelled (BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO OTHER VOLUME AT THE END OF THE DAY), "Hey! Hey, Winslow. We'll make you a deal. We will read quietly for twenty minutes if we can have question-and-answer for the rest of the period. Like we ask you stuff and you have to tell us."

A collective cry of "YEAH! STORYTIME!" rose from the seats. I rolled my eyes, because I absolutely did not think they would be able to do anything quietly for twenty minutes in a row, and also, I was pretty sure they'd just ask questions like, "So did you drink in high school?"

"Fine," I said. "But you have to actually work until then." And you know, the little stinkers did. And when they informed me jubilantly that their twenty minutes were up, they bombarded me with scandalous questions like, "What's your favorite color?"

"Seriously? That's what you guys want to know? Wow."

"Okay, did you party when you were our age?"

"Isn't there anything in between those two questions?"

"When's your birthday?"

"February twenty-sixth."

"WE ARE SO THROWING A PARTY."

"Whatever. What else?"

Well, that was weeks ago. But wouldn't you know it, those kids will do anything for a chance to eat in class, because when I stayed home with Suzannah for a few days, they planned it alllll out, complete with sign-up sheets, and when I arrived at school yesterday, I was greeted by a spread of cupcakes like you wouldn't believe. Cupcakes, and cookies, and more cake. One girl made me a gingerbread house and filled it with Swedish Fish (because one of their questions was, what's my favorite candy?). They arrived with armloads of cups and soda and bags of chips and napkins. They decorated my board. They brought balloons and party hats.

It was almost unsettling. I mean, I don't really announce my birthday at school; in fact, last year I took the day off and used it to hang out alone (alone!) at home. I cleaned the kitchen and watched MacGyver DVD's (you know what, shut up, it was my birthday and not yours and on your birthday you can watch whatever you want) and bought myself lunch and coffee and read for awhile, and that was a pretty fabulous day, actually. I pondered taking the day off this year, too, but because I'd recently taken a few days to stay home with Miss SneezyPants I thought better of it.

They teased me a bit about being old, but I told them that thirty is the new twenty-one. So far, I have to say, it's actually more fun.