...so many things I meant to tell you.

I had this all planned out in my head: a gripping account of the transition from student to teacher-played out in several parts over the course of a semester.

Alas, as you may have noted I have been all silent-like since last fall.

I can't give that play-by-play I had intended. (unless you're my mother-who got it over the phone each week)

Suffice it to say that I learned a lot about teaching, and teachers, and students in the last several months. Today was my first day as a "non-student teacher" (It doesn't feel right to say "teacher" until the paperwork is in and I have a credential, but that still is a few weeks away). I got up at 5:45, took the dog running, and was out of the house by 6:40 headed back to school. I spent the morning finishing grading the finals from yesterday's classes, inputting grades, and finalizing conduct scores and comments for the semester report cards. I got done around 12:30, and said a brief "thank you" to my master teachers-who were busy teaching, and went to turn in my keys.

I did not wear a tie today, my students took note. I told them that I was off duty.

Last night I went out with a small group from my credentialling cohort, to catch up and decompress. I am a person who bristles at group interactions, but I sincerely love all five of them (even if one couldn't make it) and feel comfortable with our shared experiences and enjoy their company.

I think the overarching lesson I learned during student teaching was the importance of collaboration, and relationships, and opening yourself to the lives of others. I came in with a very militaristic view of education, and I still find value there, but I learned that teaching is an inherently social activity, and to ignore that and internalize yourself renders your lessons--however well crafted--ineffectual.

I HATE people. Groups of people are somehow half as intelligent as the sum of their individual IQ's. I love individuals. I want to connect with everybody on a one-to-one level, and there is some difficulty to that when dealing with a class of 35 kids. But it can be done. This is the area of growth that has most surprised me. I wanted to be the ring master and run my own little circus, but when I saw teachers who did that... let's just say they were not the teachers I want to emulate.

Metamorphosis: step 1

This has been quite a week. It began with the end of my career at starbucks, which was bittersweet. That was accompanied by the inevitable sense of doom associated with leaving the familiar and embarking on the unfamiliar.

I had not considered the psychological effects of my vocational change. In the space of a day I went from respected elder statesman in a world of 20 year olds, to neophyte in a world of 40-50 somethings. All of a sudden I was a grownup (or at least expected to be). For the last few semesters I had jokingly referred to my teaching/observing persona as "Mr. Bruce", and spoke of him as a separate entity. On Tuesday I had to wear "Mr. Bruce" most of the day, and then the rest of the week.

Mr. Bruce wears ties. In fact, he more than wears them, he loves them. He feels sorry for people who don't.

I remember one of my odd phases while I was in the military, at age 19/20 feeling very grown up and having a fixation with ties. I used to sit around the house watching tv on my days off, in clothes that my new coworkers would think are too "dressy" to wear to work. I was doing my best "grownup" impersonation. In a way I still am, but I have gotten better at it.

This past week has been an eye opener. I am hooked and I want more. This week wasn't work at all (which is good, because nobody is paying me). I took home papers to grade for the two classes I taught on Friday, and laughed and enjoyed the process of covering them with red pen. Some kids write/say the darndest things (others just sit there and stare at you) and you can make them do things (its amazing).

I am also adjusting to a new daily schedule. I have been getting up at 530/545 to run with the dog, and then I have to leave by 645 because of traffic to get there around 730. Then all day long I am figuring out which bell is what, and because the school uses block scheduling I only have each class every other day. And I have no 7th period, it is my prep, which means that I am done with students around 150 and am then at the mercy of my master teacher. With few exceptions I am not allowed to leave before her (this is not a serious problem, as she has 2 school age sons and is not particularly keen to hang around past 3pm). I have a weekly class for student teachers at CSULB on Wed. evenings, and a few miscellaneous extra curricular activities that I must observe, but otherwise I am usually home by 415-430. I have the evenings to myself and go to bed around 11. It is bizarrely normal when compared to what I have done for the past several years.

The science department head, who in the short time I have known him I have come to respect quite a bit, asked me on Friday, "So, you feel like a teacher yet?"

My response was, "A little more every day." which I followed up with "Hey Bob, where's your tie!"

P.S. Mr. Bruce uses capital letters.

The upcoming New World Order.

I am not what you would call a "nervous person". My response to stress tends toward the narcoleptic rather than the manic. And while I lack anxiety, i am chock full of anxiousness. I have a desire to get things going that makes me crazy waiting for a new adventure. The worst part of bungee jumping was walking up the stairs. So i find myself in this situation presently, running the clock out on my 5 year stint at starbucks, and waiting to start student teaching--exactly 2 weeks from today.

I feel ready to jump into it. I have no idea what to expect or have prepared, because I have no idea what is on the other side of that two week wall. I will learn quickly (i suspect) what is necessary, but at this point i have so little to go on that i have been watching movies and starting a new book--which i will undoubtedly not finish until after the semester is over. (Its a history of the papacy, so i kinda know how it ends--its a german guy who says questionably offensive things).

My preparations have included: packing an unpacking my briefcase, trying to break in said briefcase (thanks mom and dad, i will love it forever), polishing my shoes, buying some new "grown up" clothes, and occasionally looking at the teacher's edition of the textbook-which, to be honest i do not care for (i wish i had the student edition, too much extra crap in the margins). frankly i'm a little bored.

But i will come back here in two weeks and let you know how it went.

Gone to be with Jesus

For the third and (hopefully) final installment of my morbid summer: My grandmother passed away suddenly on Sunday morning. I have been at pains on how to address it here, or even whether or not to, but I felt this might give the appearance of a slight to my family, as i have rambled on about those unrelated to me and their recent passing.

If you want the story of her life-read the obituary.

If you want the story of how she passed-ask my mother.

If you want to know how amazing a woman she was-attend the service.

I am only going to tell you why her absence hurts (me).

She was the last of my grandparents to die. Which gives her death a false sense of importance over all the ones who went before. I miss her as a person, and Colleen, Clayton, Darlene, and Karl, as one conglomeration of generational sadness at the loss.

My grandparents died at large intervals, and my memories of them shift like shadows as my perception of them ages. My understanding of them as people, complex and interesting, developed with time. I regret that Colleen who passed when I was barely into high school, is the least colored in of all of them. She died when grandparents were only satellites that orbit around their grandchildren-or at least that is the view from the grandchild's perspective.

Grandma Lois lasted long enough for me to appreciate her on an adult level. There would always be some deference to the familial roles we represented to each other, and the vast disparity of our ages, but i could talk to her, and she to me. we lived at a distance that maintained the gravitational attraction of conversation and visits, and kept the desire to see each other from being crushed by the mundanity of constant contact. I knew how she felt about me, and she knew how I felt about her.

I will always wish I had more time with her, but that is a sign of love. If I could have been satisfied with our time together, i wouldn't miss her as i do. You don't really love someone if, when they die, you say "well, i'd had about enough of them anyway."

We had lately discovered dominos, and would play into the night after my parents went to bed. It was something we could share, and work at together. I will miss those hours.

She was a sweet and generous soul, who loved Jesus, babies and her family. It sounds trite, I know, that's what all little old ladies love, but it is the truth. And if I know anyone who has ever deserved to be with Jesus it is my Grandma Lois. And she'd want you and i to join her.

customer service

Today was the funeral service for one of my regular customers from starbucks. And while i will mention her name (Margot Harvey), this post is larger than her loss. I will be leaving starbucks to begin student teaching at the end of the summer, and have been reflecting on my 5 years with the company. Margot represents the best that the job had to offer. Over the four years at my first store in Tustin, I got to know a wonderful group of people who have all left a mark on my heart. Some of those people were coworkers, and some were customers who could have just come in for their morning cup of coffee, paid, and left. Some of those thousands of people who waited in my line did more than that.

As a job, starbucks was a steady predictable (if occasionally menial) part of my life. I was fairly compensated and treated well by all, and allowed to be my own peculiar self ({mostly}within dress code). What i will take away was the community i felt with my customers/neighbors, who i genuinely looked forward to seeing each day (and some of the ones i didn't).

Margot, the star of today's post (if there is such a thing), once caught me riding to/from work without a helmet, and gave me a hard time about it for a week, and then turned up one day with a brand new helmet she bought for me. (i did briefly wear it when i thought she might see me).

Harry loaned me his flatbed truck for a few days when we moved across town to our current apartment.

Sal got me a case of pig's feet on short notice so meg could teach a suturing workshop. And always remembered me around the holidays.

These are only a few prominent examples, and there are many more who offered me nothing more than a sympathetic ear, or pleasant conversation, but all of them generous in their own way. These are the people I will miss. The people who made my job pleasant.

I encourage you, dear reader (using a plural here just seems like hubris), to be one of those people to somebody insignificant in your life. make them more significant. it's always good to have one more person speak well of you when you are gone.

in passing

Today i attended a memorial service for meg's boss/mentor/friend. Her name was Dr. Marianne Cinat, and she was by all accounts an impressive woman. i knew her only socially, we had dinner a few times and sat at the same tables for hospital functions, and she was a humorous and kind person. the world is a little worse off for her departure.

While all of the above could certainly justify my attendance, i mostly went in support of meg. But i would be ignoring my curiosity, and selfish reasons if i did not disclose them: I wanted to see the future.

I have been to what i imagine are an average number of funerals/memorials for my age. I still prefer them to weddings--nobody goes to a funeral unless they want to, its not really a "can i bring a date" scene. But i have never been to such an enormous service. It filled two conference rooms in the doubletree hotel (across the street from the hospital). Multiple fire departments had firetrucks out front in an impressive show of force, many of the firemen in dress uniforms filled the hall. Police officers, city officials, hospital staff, friends, only her sister made the trip out from the family home in Michigan, where the funeral will be held. Many of her patients were actually in the audience, or had sent in emails and cards with their condolences, some got up to speak.

It was impressive to consider the impact of this one woman on all of the people in the room. I can only imagine that throughout a career in trauma and burn surgery (even a tragically short one in this case) you play an important role in the community as well as in individual's lives. Part of my going was to see what meg's funeral (eventual, i'm not planning anything untoward) would look like. If their friends and coworkers are to be believed meg and marianne were very similar, and i think an apt comparison can be made.

People respect doctors. some of them even deserve it. I had never been to a doctor's service before, and it was touching. particularly for hard working, no nonsense doctors who put their patients before their own family and social obligations at times, it was reassuring to see that people do appreciate their efforts, and they do affect people's lives.

Which is nice, because that's the kind of doctor i married.

The REAL catching up.

I am a bit adrift with thoughts about graduation, and finishing school, preparing (mostly mentally) for student teaching in the fall, and increasing my hours at starbucks. I finished school a little more than a week ago, and I took the week off to celebrate/prepare for graduation. So I have had a lot of free time to finish a novel I was reading, clear off my DVR, and watch some movies on netflix. I've also started a training program with my dog (so we'll see how that goes over the summer). What I have not been doing is thinking about the fact that I am done with school as we (I) know it, and what that feels like.

Apparently, I should have been because that is exactly the question that everyone has for me.

So here it is, my written reflection on graduating/tion:

It doesn't really feel like anything. Yet. The feeling is indeterminate from every other summer vacation of my college career. In fact I had to register for my last batch of classes (student teaching=18units=$3200) the other day. It places an odd significance on things when you realize that it is "the last time" you will do this or that. So finals week was punctuated with a series of these insignificant milestones. The last time I would trudge the 300 yards from/to my car from class, or buy a scantron, or clamor out of a silent lecture hall while struggling to collect my things after taking a test.

These are things I will forget to miss.

I have been doing this in one form or another for 7 years. I have learned mostly that there is not time to learn everything, or even everything you want to, there is only enough time to learn that which is on the test-and a little bit of what is interesting to you.

My graduation day started early. I got up before my alarm at 6:15, put on my flip flops and took the elevator down to the ground floor and jaywalked across six lanes (and a median) to the starbucks I work at. Not to work (i was still in my pj's) but to get some coffee beans for Joy and get my schedule for next week and my tips from last week. I went back home, got dressed, and finished cleaning the apartment. Meg and I went for breakfast at the pancake house, I had some wonderful pecan pancakes, and came home. Since it was Friday, we had to take the dog to the dog park. We had Joy and Mikayla meet us there. The dog and the goddaughter had a good time, and we came home. I changed shirts and grabbed my cap and gown and went to the school. Meg and Joy followed in Joy's car later. I had to coordinate two sets of parents traveling to my school from two different cities in opposite directions, so I got there a little earlier. Although both sets of parents had already arrived.

Other than "fill out this card" we were given no further instructions. I found my good friend Charlene, a fellow prospective biology teacher, nerd, and all around kind human being, and we got into a blob of biology students we kinda recognized from some of our classes. They started the processional and walked us into the "stadium". On the way in, for about 50 ft, the walkway was lined with people throwing armloads of confetti into the air above the graduates.

This was the most magical moment of the whole day. For a brief 50 feet I was filled with such childlike joy that I am at a loss to express. After that it was anticlimactic.

I won't bore you with the details of the ceremony. If you cared about the goings on you would have been there, but really, nobody cares what they say other than your/your loved one's name.

Highlights: During the address I received my results on the state testing from earlier in the semester-the timing was uncanny (I passed, by the way). The announcers were AMAZING, they made every name sound like they were participants in the largest WWF smackdown in history, sooooo awesome.

Then it was over.

My inlaws, my parents, my grandma Lois, Joy and Mikayla all came back to our place to meet all the birds and regroup after the ceremony and before heading back home. It was really fun, grandma Lois had never met Meg's parents, and she enjoyed playing with our bird squeaky. My parents had to go early to make the long drive back before getting stuck in traffic. We went out to dinner with the Kaisers, and then they left. And Miki and Joy stayed into the evening and wore out both me and Wren chasing Miki around.

It was a wonderful day. I was so tired I went to bed at 9:30.

10 years ago I went to Meg's graduation. 7 years ago was Mark's, and 5 years ago Cory graduated. It took a while but its finally my turn. I am catching up.