“I turned that in!” “I gave that to you!” “Oh that? I never got that.” The grading deadline for the first nine weeks clamps down like one of those chambers where the walls close in to crush you alive. Pressure mounts, time runs out. Industrious students turn intense. I had one girl do test corrections on a 97 she made back in October. The clueless come alive as if from a stupor. Those that have struggled… Continue reading

To say that I can teach French because I speak it is like saying that because I drive a car, I could build one. From scratch. We pick up where Madame Le Vrai departs as she begins her maternity leave. Au moment she is saying she’d like to wait until October 1. Bon idea! I tell her. “Formidable!” I would love an extra week to crawl through the wormhole called Schoology and Google Docs to… Continue reading

I am not a real teacher, though I play one on TV… I really wish I hadn’t given away my sub suit. Got rid of it during the pandemic in one of those “locked down and livin’ large (in my walk-in)” closet purges. The black slacks and geometric print Chico’s blouse that had meant business for so many semesters as a substitute teacher was suddenly out of business. What was I doing on March 14,… Continue reading

It’s not that different. Seeing the little room at the end of the hall. It’s still tidy, and tastefully decorated as always, bed made, pillows in place–enough whimsy and trappings of the girl to make you think she’s just stepped out, but then a stillness, a quiet, sleeping stillness that makes me know she is gone. Because it is Sophie’s, it is also freshly vacced, the waste can emptied, not a sock or a stray… Continue reading

The Exchange: a day later There is a good chance–cell phone, video games, social media and modern superficiality being what it is–that I will never see or hear from this child again. He will rejoin his group, evaporate like a little sigh, and be gone. Will he think of me? Will he think of the crazy Burk family and the fun times we had, the places we took him? Will he remember the beauty of… Continue reading

The Exchange, Day 17 One of the aspects of “modern” foreign exchange is all the technological trappings that come with it. Child is barely here before we are “orienting” him to American family ways, which I’m sure he’s already had, back in France, in preparation for an American homestay. This company dots its “i’s” and crosses its “t’s,” and then proceeds to hammer on every other letter of the alphabet, too. How do you say… Continue reading

The Exchange, last day I don’t know what to buy for him or with him to take home to France. Since he touched down, he has wanted to purchase a pair of Nike shoes with his $300 USD. Apparently there is a pair of sneakers called “Air Force One” costing roughly the same as a drink stirrer on the famed aircraft. What is the appeal? I couldn’t begin to tell you. They look like sneakers… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 19 Toward the end of our time, it’s as though a switch gets flipped. I had forgotten, but the same thing happened with our exchange the summer before. Like the half-deflated pool floaties in my garage, it’s as if the air has just gone out of him. Is it the heat? Is it our activity level? Is it staying up too late on the infernal cell phone? I can’t get to the… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 16 William learned to dive backwards the summer our French boy came to town. Camille taught him. I watched them working on it from across the pool, two boys at the end of twin boards, lightly bouncing, suspended in time, growing into their bodies, their friendship, the backflip at hand. They get into position, turn with their backs to the water. They bounce a little. They look across at each other. Bounce… Continue reading

The Exchange, Day 17 “So, Camille, is there anything you won’t ride?” Drops, falls, spins and speeding roller coasters–you like the amusement park? “Bah oui!” he exclaims, happy with our activity choice for the day. “I do eet all.” But when we get to Kings Dominion, fresh-washed in the morning sun and just starting to sizzle for the day, I’m not sure Will and I share his definition of “all.” Here’s my William, busting through… Continue reading