Letter through the crack in the wall

Inspired by Kayley Hyde and Charlie McDonnell

Dear future Jennifer

As you write this, you're nervous about next Monday (8/23/2010) because according to lots of people it is going to be the most important day of the year.  It's the day that you'll stand up in front of a bunch of 16 and 17 year old strangers for the first time and tell them what to expect in chemistry class.  If you remember the days leading up to that particular day it was hard for you to imagine that life moved past that calendar square circled in red.  Time approached it assymptotically.  (yes, you used to occasionally make up words, remember?) But, it must have, or you wouldn't be reading this.

I'd like to think that you're still a teacher at age 34, and that you're preparing for a new set of kids right now.  I don't know if you'll still be at LHS, because right now this area doesn't feel much like home.  You still rely on your GPS to get anywhere, and your car still sports PA plates.  The pay is better back home, so maybe it would make sense.  I don't have a full appreciation for money just yet.

Maybe by now you can play Fantasie Impromptu.  Not just the middle section, but the entire thing.  I also hope you can cook.  At this point in your life you relied a lot on cereal, sandwiches, and microwave dinners.  Stop that.

I wonder if your hair has started to turn gray.  If it has, it's not the end of the world.  You got Mom's genes, and those are generally good things to have.  If it hasn't begun, you probably won't go gray until your late fifties, so congratulations!

I don't picture you with a husband and kids, although a lot can change in ten years.  Who nows.  Right now dating is far from a priority for you, and it hasn't been for about a year.  Just don't settle for anyone, okay?

Ha, I just scared away Ernest the Cat, who likes to sneak into Dick and Judy's house and eat Bessie's food.  That was entertaining.

Stay frosty!

Turn Left at the Reptile House

I'm a first year teacher, which means I'm also new, and it seems everyone I meet is boundlessly curious to discover how I'm doing.  I'm happy to discuss all that, but after the umpteenth person asks I do begin to get tired of it.  That probably shows.  And then I get back and my Judy does the same interrogation dance, and I have to call home and go through it all with my parents...it seems like it'll never end.

I can't help but feel a bit like an exhibit in the zoo.  

My classroom is more or less done.  The 'less' part is that I have no idea where a great deal of my science equipment is.  Everything is tucked away in unlabeled drawers.  The 'more' is that the bulletin board is 90% there and I have stuff on the walls. 

Just discovering part of the human race

Dick and Judy like clocks.  When I started noticing them I went on a clock scavenger hunt and I counted 15 of the things in the living room and kitchen alone.  There is the grandfather clock in the parlor and five downstairs, and I haven't ventured into their bedroom to look for more because I figured that was off-limits for guests.  Anyway, my favorite of the clocks is a cross stitch pattern with designs for the four seasons around the stitched clockface that would work if someone replaced the batteries.  Right now it's stuck at 6:15. 

There are also a lot of animal figurines.  I haven't counted them yet, but if I look around I see some golfing bears, two birds and two dogs on top of the piano, a cat silhouette over the doorway, a wooden bear on the mantlepiece, two more dogs and a cat at the base of the fireplace...and that looks to be about it.  Upstairs there are a lot more.

I miss my piano.  I left it at home because when I stayed here for the interview I noticed a piano and figured that I could play it, making stuffing my keyboard in a packed car unnecessary.  But, alas.  The piano in Grandma's Vermont cabin that has had to suffer through years of neglect and freeze-thaw cycles looks like a Steinway compared to this thing.  Most keys stick, none are close to being in tune, and some don't sound at all.  It's painful, in an entertaining kind of way, because nothing I play sounds the way it should.  It truly amazes me that a piano could be bad.

I'm staying here until they tell me I can move into my townhouse.  I barely know Dick and Judy, which is probably why I take such an interest in their decorations.  They're off on vacation for most of the week so it's all I really have to go on to figure out what they're like.  Clocks and animals and NOT music.  That's what I've gathered.