It is a really lovely experience to be invited to someone's home who you've just met and share a meal. That is just what Sia and Nico do for the cruisers who visit the island.
Carolyne loved their homestead. The main house is a very small with a dining table in the main room and two small bedrooms off to the side. The cooking area and WC are outdoors. A smaller one room house sits just behind the main house and that is where their teenage son stays. Carolyne is envious and has asked if she can have a place like that once we return to land. Jim and I are in love with the "tiny house" trend and have researched the different layouts. More yard, less house... and that is exactly how these people live.
The Tongan meal is similar to the Samoan food we experienced, but less greasy. Taro leaves are wrapped around fish (or sometimes other meat, but fish is mainly used) and cooked in coconut milk. Baked casava, banana, yam and breadfruit are the side dishes. Our favorite was a papaya cooked in coconut cream... it was heavenly. And Sia took a can of tuna fish, chopped up an onion and wrapped that in a type of local cabbage leaf - that was also very tasty! We brought chocolate cupcakes - that was a big hit!
We brought our own plates and silverware - these people don't have much. It was really kind of them to share what they had. Alcohol is forbidden on the island. We all drank rain water.
A few days later it was their son's 16th birthday and we were invited to share a roasted piglet. It was very, very good - although if you have any reservations about seeing an entire piglet served up on a platter (head, eyes, feet, snout, etc...) then you might decline the invitation. We had no problem - even as their three year old gnawed on the little leg, a hoof hanging out of the side of her mouth. And because they feed their pigs coconut, the flavor of the meat is doubly delish!
About the cupcakes - it was suggested by another cruiser that we by chocolate cake mixes before heading to Fiji. We bought 5 or so in Pago, but wished we had purchased a lot more. Chocolate is hard to come by here and we've been told it is expensive in Fiji. The locals appreciate when you share a dessert. What I didn't buy was prepared frosting - I didn't want to pay $3 a pop in Pago. But I also didn't want to use a pound of butter to make frosting since it can't be replaced here, canned or refrigerated. Carolyne and I came up with a substitute that worked beautifully that you might want to add to your cruising recipes.
CAROLYNE'S CHOCOLATE CUPCAKE FROSTING
(frosts about 24 cupcakes)
(1) 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk
4-5 heaping Tablespoons of cocoa powder (you may need more)
a splash of vanilla
Using ¾ of the can of sweetened condensed milk, whisk in the cocoa powder until thick and smooth.
Add the vanilla.
Taste it and adjust until you approve.
If you have a fridge, chill to help thicken. This is a sticky frosting with a "ganache" like quality, so make sure you don't frost cupcakes until ready to serve.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Heavenly Beach (Nuietoputapu, Tonga)
It took us almost an hour, but the walk through the trees on the little dirt path was well worth it. On the other side, a white sandy beach stretched for miles... not a single footprint in sight.
A huge reef appeared as the tide went out. And as we combed the wet imprint that the high tide left in the sand, we found lovely shells!
Several large cowries, shiny and empty!
We discovered small abalones and perfectly in tact sea biscuits and bright cones. The hermit crabs can spot a good shell when they see it and so we returned quite a few good ones if occupied. But there were sufficient vacant "keepers" and we spent several relaxing hours beach combing.
It has been a long time since we have enjoyed walking barefoot in fine sand since many of the beaches we frequented in the past year have been coral or rock. It was a real treat to look down the coastline and realize we had it all to ourselves!
And then it happened-
We discovered huge blue lobster carcasses...HUGE... and plural!
And the first thing that came to mind?
Butter!
One we found was enormous. We all but had our tongues hanging out at the sight of the dead crustacean and I'm sure you could hear our three brains go "clickity, click, click, click..."
That knowledge...
that at night the reef is crawling with monster yumminess...
let's just say that we are more than a little motivated to do some fishing in the dark!
A huge reef appeared as the tide went out. And as we combed the wet imprint that the high tide left in the sand, we found lovely shells!
Several large cowries, shiny and empty!
We discovered small abalones and perfectly in tact sea biscuits and bright cones. The hermit crabs can spot a good shell when they see it and so we returned quite a few good ones if occupied. But there were sufficient vacant "keepers" and we spent several relaxing hours beach combing.
It has been a long time since we have enjoyed walking barefoot in fine sand since many of the beaches we frequented in the past year have been coral or rock. It was a real treat to look down the coastline and realize we had it all to ourselves!
And then it happened-
We discovered huge blue lobster carcasses...HUGE... and plural!
And the first thing that came to mind?
Butter!
One we found was enormous. We all but had our tongues hanging out at the sight of the dead crustacean and I'm sure you could hear our three brains go "clickity, click, click, click..."
That knowledge...
that at night the reef is crawling with monster yumminess...
let's just say that we are more than a little motivated to do some fishing in the dark!
Monday, July 13, 2015
Captain Crankypants Almost Loses Our Dinghy in Tonga!
The wharf in Niuetoputapu is a high wall with a few tire "fenders" for the supply ship that comes once a month. A slippery boat ramp and small dinghy dock lie on the west side. Because of bow & stern-tied fishing boats, Jim insisted upon tying our dinghy by the tire fenders. The three of us would shimmy up the tires onto land. I worried because the supply ship, already 2 weeks behind schedule, was expected to arrive any day. But the captain preferred the tires.
Jim was invited to share kava with the local village men, a first for him. He took the inflatable and tied up to his favorite spot. Since kava is a male bonding thing (they drink the stimulating liquid from the same coconut shell and if enough is consumed one might feel very relaxed... or numb), Carolyne and I stayed aboard Hotspur. I was enjoying the calm weather, beautiful anchorage and quiet time when I noticed a bunch of children gathering at the dock. Their excitement caused me to turn-
and that's when I saw the giant blue supply ship, Sitka, entering the channel and heading right to the wharf where Jim left our dinghy.
Our inflatable was in peril! None of the local people seemed to notice it tucked under the tires. I envisioned the Sitka's massive steel port side crushing our dinghy against the cement wharf until she popped like a bug under a boot heel. Since Jim didn't have a radio (and who knows how much kava had been consumed at this point), I had to think fast!
Our Fatty Knees sailing dinghy (we call her 'Red') was tied to the side of Hotspur. I urgently summoned Carolyne, we lept into Red, and the sail was quickly hoisted. Carolyne, an expert with the Fatty Knees, tacked right up to the starboard side of the inflatable and I jumped in. It was low tide so monkeying up the tires to release the painter was a little less ladylike than normal. But, scuttling back down was even less ladylike when I made an error in judging the distance from the last tire to the dinghy. I clenched tightly to the rope as one leg balanced in a lunge position and the other extended behind me with toes grasping nothing but air. Meanwhile, the Sitka was getting closer. I had no choice but to lower myself further, hoping that I didn't fall backwards, and my lunge became a partial stretch with one foot stuck over my head. The audience of local children laughed and pointed. I don't recommend wearing a sarong for tire climbing, but time was of the essence. I was wearing underwear and that's all that mattered. At last, my toes made contact.
Carolyne had already sailed away to safety from the Sitka and I began to start the engine on our inflatable when Jim peered down at me from the wharf.
"What are you doing?", he asked me wearing an expression on his face like I was a moron.
"I'm saving our dinghy", I replied.
And with that, I revved the outboard and zoomed away, my sarong whipping behind me like a cape.
How he got home that evening I have no idea.
Jim was invited to share kava with the local village men, a first for him. He took the inflatable and tied up to his favorite spot. Since kava is a male bonding thing (they drink the stimulating liquid from the same coconut shell and if enough is consumed one might feel very relaxed... or numb), Carolyne and I stayed aboard Hotspur. I was enjoying the calm weather, beautiful anchorage and quiet time when I noticed a bunch of children gathering at the dock. Their excitement caused me to turn-
and that's when I saw the giant blue supply ship, Sitka, entering the channel and heading right to the wharf where Jim left our dinghy.
Our inflatable was in peril! None of the local people seemed to notice it tucked under the tires. I envisioned the Sitka's massive steel port side crushing our dinghy against the cement wharf until she popped like a bug under a boot heel. Since Jim didn't have a radio (and who knows how much kava had been consumed at this point), I had to think fast!
Our Fatty Knees sailing dinghy (we call her 'Red') was tied to the side of Hotspur. I urgently summoned Carolyne, we lept into Red, and the sail was quickly hoisted. Carolyne, an expert with the Fatty Knees, tacked right up to the starboard side of the inflatable and I jumped in. It was low tide so monkeying up the tires to release the painter was a little less ladylike than normal. But, scuttling back down was even less ladylike when I made an error in judging the distance from the last tire to the dinghy. I clenched tightly to the rope as one leg balanced in a lunge position and the other extended behind me with toes grasping nothing but air. Meanwhile, the Sitka was getting closer. I had no choice but to lower myself further, hoping that I didn't fall backwards, and my lunge became a partial stretch with one foot stuck over my head. The audience of local children laughed and pointed. I don't recommend wearing a sarong for tire climbing, but time was of the essence. I was wearing underwear and that's all that mattered. At last, my toes made contact.
Carolyne had already sailed away to safety from the Sitka and I began to start the engine on our inflatable when Jim peered down at me from the wharf.
"What are you doing?", he asked me wearing an expression on his face like I was a moron.
"I'm saving our dinghy", I replied.
And with that, I revved the outboard and zoomed away, my sarong whipping behind me like a cape.
How he got home that evening I have no idea.
Friday, July 10, 2015
Checking into Niuetoputapu, Tonga is easy!
If you can't reach anyone on Channel 16 upon entering Niuetoputapu (the one handheld radio on the island doesn't always work), the officials prefer that you wait until someone honks a car at the wharf, whereupon you go pick up the officials in your dinghy and invite them aboard.
It took 20 minutes to fill out the various forms. We offered the the two officials cold colas and chocolate cookies, which they consumed with vigor. A cold soda is a valuable commodity since there is no refrigeration on the island. Apparently we lucked out and the third official was unavailable.
(We were told by the cruisers who arrived the following day that he has a longing for cold beer... and he is eager to have a few at every boat!)
The island is home to simplistic lifestyles. However, a variety of touristy experiences can be enjoyed in Nuietoputapu for low prices:
Horse back riding
rent bicycles or cars
a trip to the fertile island named "Tin Can Island"
hiking on the ridge
a Tongan feast
a bowl of Tongan kava
Parties
Tours
The tsunami 5 or so years ago wiped out many of the islander's homes and belongings. The locals are very interested in trading fruit for practical items, especially if you are coming from American Samoa:
fish hooks
mugs, pots, pans, cups
tea towels
kitchen knives and other kitchen items
used clothing & shoes
flashlights
re-chargeable batteries
LED lights
rice
flour
sugar
candies
canned mackerel
Although the locals don't have much, we have not experienced any begging. The people are very friendly and Carolyne has made a hit with the local children, as she sometimes hands out "lollies" to the little ones. They even like the "mystery" lollipop flavors we find revolting - pizza, bacon and popcorn.
We were invited to Catholic mass this morning (and even my husband went!) It was a very simple service in a small building with extension cords running up the wall where bare bulbs hung overhead. There was no organist or stereo system - the singing was a glorious mixture of harmony and melody much like the Gregorian chants - it was hauntingly beautiful and brought tears to my eyes!
We have been invited to Sia's and Nico's home for an after church potluck this afternoon. I'm hoping they don't serve the black dog that was hit by the truck when we were leaving. Two young men dragged it down the road by the hind legs and Sia explained that they'll take it to the owners who will bake it in the "umu", the Tongan oven.
She told me dog is very tasty.
We hoped we had abandoned our western snobbery when we left to go cruising over 7 years ago.
But dog?
I'll have to get back to you on that one.
It took 20 minutes to fill out the various forms. We offered the the two officials cold colas and chocolate cookies, which they consumed with vigor. A cold soda is a valuable commodity since there is no refrigeration on the island. Apparently we lucked out and the third official was unavailable.
(We were told by the cruisers who arrived the following day that he has a longing for cold beer... and he is eager to have a few at every boat!)
The island is home to simplistic lifestyles. However, a variety of touristy experiences can be enjoyed in Nuietoputapu for low prices:
Horse back riding
rent bicycles or cars
a trip to the fertile island named "Tin Can Island"
hiking on the ridge
a Tongan feast
a bowl of Tongan kava
Parties
Tours
The tsunami 5 or so years ago wiped out many of the islander's homes and belongings. The locals are very interested in trading fruit for practical items, especially if you are coming from American Samoa:
fish hooks
mugs, pots, pans, cups
tea towels
kitchen knives and other kitchen items
used clothing & shoes
flashlights
re-chargeable batteries
LED lights
rice
flour
sugar
candies
canned mackerel
Although the locals don't have much, we have not experienced any begging. The people are very friendly and Carolyne has made a hit with the local children, as she sometimes hands out "lollies" to the little ones. They even like the "mystery" lollipop flavors we find revolting - pizza, bacon and popcorn.
We were invited to Catholic mass this morning (and even my husband went!) It was a very simple service in a small building with extension cords running up the wall where bare bulbs hung overhead. There was no organist or stereo system - the singing was a glorious mixture of harmony and melody much like the Gregorian chants - it was hauntingly beautiful and brought tears to my eyes!
We have been invited to Sia's and Nico's home for an after church potluck this afternoon. I'm hoping they don't serve the black dog that was hit by the truck when we were leaving. Two young men dragged it down the road by the hind legs and Sia explained that they'll take it to the owners who will bake it in the "umu", the Tongan oven.
She told me dog is very tasty.
We hoped we had abandoned our western snobbery when we left to go cruising over 7 years ago.
But dog?
I'll have to get back to you on that one.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Anchor is Up and We're Moving!
We left American Samoa.
After 6 weeks shy of one year, we waved goodbye.
We have one very happy captain, one sad co-captain and one very sad teenage swab.
It is tough saying goodbye to friends (and tougher saying goodbye to a boyfriend).
That, I think, is the hardest part of cruising.
The longer you stay somewhere- the more roots you grow- the harder it is to pull them up.
Our melancholy was temporarily interrupted when we suddenly hooked a blue marlin one hour into our trip. Thankfully, he broke our line (because none of us wanted to tangle with that dagger-faced monster!)... but the cost of our yellow-bellied reluctance was our beloved lucky lure. A school of skip jack followed us for miles and miles, and although we don't like to eat them (their meat is too dark), they are absolutely gorgeous under the water with their shimmering purples and blues and pinks and reds. Carolyne sat at the bow watching them and they did flips and summer-salts to try and cheer her up. They were beautiful.
We were expecting light wind from behind us... our least favorite point of sail other then straight upwind. But mother nature fooled us - the winds were awesome at an average of 15 knots and we sailed 200 miles on a beam reach straight through to Niuetoputapu, Tonga! We arrived too early in the morning and hove to, waiting for first light before entering the skinny and reef laden channel.
This remote island has no electricity, no refrigeration, no internet... but its English speaking inhabitants seem content and fairly self reliant (although they are eagerly awaiting a supply ship that comes once a month and is currently 2 weeks overdue). Because we sailed across the Date Line, we are a day ahead now. In our time, we arrived Tuesday, July 7th. In reality time, we lost Tuesday, July 7th and entered into Wednesday, July 8th.
We feel a welcome relief to have a sunny climate. And Hotspur is happy to be drying out for a change. The solar panels are buzzing with energy and all the hatches are wide open. The water in the lagoon is so clear we can see the bottom at 80+ foot depths. The bottom is nice and sandy, so our Manson anchor hooked right up in 34' of water. The first night was calm and cool with a slight breeze. No bugs. Bright stars. Simply tranquil.
(Photos will have to wait until we get to Fiji with internet.)
After 6 weeks shy of one year, we waved goodbye.
We have one very happy captain, one sad co-captain and one very sad teenage swab.
It is tough saying goodbye to friends (and tougher saying goodbye to a boyfriend).
That, I think, is the hardest part of cruising.
The longer you stay somewhere- the more roots you grow- the harder it is to pull them up.
Our melancholy was temporarily interrupted when we suddenly hooked a blue marlin one hour into our trip. Thankfully, he broke our line (because none of us wanted to tangle with that dagger-faced monster!)... but the cost of our yellow-bellied reluctance was our beloved lucky lure. A school of skip jack followed us for miles and miles, and although we don't like to eat them (their meat is too dark), they are absolutely gorgeous under the water with their shimmering purples and blues and pinks and reds. Carolyne sat at the bow watching them and they did flips and summer-salts to try and cheer her up. They were beautiful.
We were expecting light wind from behind us... our least favorite point of sail other then straight upwind. But mother nature fooled us - the winds were awesome at an average of 15 knots and we sailed 200 miles on a beam reach straight through to Niuetoputapu, Tonga! We arrived too early in the morning and hove to, waiting for first light before entering the skinny and reef laden channel.
This remote island has no electricity, no refrigeration, no internet... but its English speaking inhabitants seem content and fairly self reliant (although they are eagerly awaiting a supply ship that comes once a month and is currently 2 weeks overdue). Because we sailed across the Date Line, we are a day ahead now. In our time, we arrived Tuesday, July 7th. In reality time, we lost Tuesday, July 7th and entered into Wednesday, July 8th.
We feel a welcome relief to have a sunny climate. And Hotspur is happy to be drying out for a change. The solar panels are buzzing with energy and all the hatches are wide open. The water in the lagoon is so clear we can see the bottom at 80+ foot depths. The bottom is nice and sandy, so our Manson anchor hooked right up in 34' of water. The first night was calm and cool with a slight breeze. No bugs. Bright stars. Simply tranquil.
(Photos will have to wait until we get to Fiji with internet.)
Friday, June 19, 2015
A Bookworm, a Sea Fairy & Humpty-Dumpty Learn to Scuba Dive
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| Photos by Laumei Diving |
When Jim received a call from his
Swedish radiologist buddy inviting him to join a group of men
learning to scuba dive, he jumped at the opportunity. With the
plentiful reefs and live coral surrounding the island of Tutuila,
American Samoa is ideal. Jim studied a PADI book to prepare. He and
my father share a similar, annoying knack – they can process their
reading material into a live experience. Mind and body become one
with the universe. Jim earned his Open Water certification with the
ease of an experienced diver.
The Bookworm.
He enjoyed himself so much he suggested
that Carolyne and I might like to take a Mom/Daughter class. Having
endured piercing sharp pain while simply snorkeling was a concern,
crackling like broken glass across my forehead and face. But, I
signed up anyway thinking Carolyne would also love taking lessons
together and it sounded easy enough. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Instead of giggling with delight over
our girly adventure, on our first excursion Carolyne crossed her
arms, avoided eye contact and acted utterly bored. She didn't
exchange but two words with Renaud, our Master Diver, and I wasn't
even sure she was paying attention to his instructions. It was hardly
a bonding experience.
And it was on our 3rd dive I
suffered severe pain in my ear. My mask felt like it was going to jet
propel off my face and I was having trouble breathing. Attempts to
equalize were futile. Nervous anxiety escalated until I was convinced
it was a holy premonition telling me to GET OUT OF THE WATER! I sat
the lesson out. Carolyne, a born sea creature, was flipping tail and
soaring through the refracted aqua light with such beauteous grace
that Renaud boasted she was a “natural”. She discovered she loved
diving so much that she pursued her courses unabashed and quickly
earned her Open Water certification.
The Sea Fairy.
I was sadly never able to complete the
first level. I pictured Jim and Carolyne going on fantastic
underwater adventures while I stayed on dry land or putzed around the
surface in my snorkel gear. With a heavy heart, I thanked Renaud for
his time and went home to have a good cry. Jim tried to comfort me.
“Describe your problem”, he gently coaxed. Through my blubbering
I managed to squeak, “I... have... mental...”
And... that about sums it up.
Then a week later, Renaud invited me to
go diving with him one-on-one, predicting I would do fine if it were
just the two of us. We had already paid him, so I agreed to give it
another try.
Plus he's 26.
And French.
And very handsome.
Plus he's 26.
And French.
And very handsome.
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| Laumei Diving has a Facebook Page you can "like" |
Trouble was immediate.
Although
Renaud's instructions were excellent, upon descending I had the
inability to control my BCD (buoyancy control device). (B)limping
slowly to the top, gluteus maximus in the lead and arms and legs
flailing, I desperately tried to deflate air out of my vest, which
wasn't cooperating because my fingers aren't anymore coordinated than
the rest of me. More lead weights were added to my pockets, but after
several more helium-butt-woman retrievals Renaud opted to DRAG me
alongside for the rest of the dive. It was humiliating... bobbing up
and down uncontrollably like a silly cartoon...
Humpty-dorky-Dumpty.
But practice makes perfect. I
eventually passed every required physical exercise, even filling my
mask 100% with water and then purging – totally executed while
underwater. My initial attempts at this were pretty rotten because of
a so-called little freak-out-factor, and so I was instructed to
repeat this hateful drill several times over the course. I blame it
on stage fright because once a curious school of yellow fish arrived
and hovered in front of me. There is nothing quite so intimidating as
performing water tricks in front of an aquatic audience. After 10
sloppy efforts, I finally purged the water from my mask completely.
The unimpressed fish left before intermission and I could swear one
of them even booed.
It took me twice as long to get halfway
there, but Renaud (patient saint that he is) encouraged me along
until I finally obtained my Open Water certification with no further
mishaps... including death-defying underwater feats, like removing my
weight belt and BCD and then dressing into them again and removing my
mask, swimming 10 meters, replacing the mask and purging.
I emailed my sister, bragging of my
triumphant diving achievement and detailing the mind-boggling hurdles
I overcame. Her response?
“That poor 26 year old saint and his
naïve self thinks you had anxiety....Pfft. I know better. This is
you...
Oh no, French boy - we are too deep
- I cannot breathe - I need mouth to mouth!
Oh no, French boy....there is
something wriggling in my wet suit - can you get it out?
Oh SHARK!...Hold me, French boy!”
If only I had been so clever.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
What's New in Pago Pago - Part II
My teaching experience in American Samoa was an exceptional one.
My classroom was once a motel room. It was very small and had no air conditioning. Three walls had openings covered with chicken wire, inviting welcome island breeze to deposit unwelcome island dirt upon every flat surface. I didn't have the luxury of a janitor, so my daily routine consisted of wiping the grime from desks, and sweeping or mopping the filthy floor - unless I could commandeer a student's recess period with “detention”, then the drudgery of those chores was skillfully delegated to a repeat homework skipper or disruptive classroom chatterbox.
 |
| 6A party! |
 |
| 7B's card |
The termites reeked havoc on the
tables, chairs and desks... thus, every morning my first priority
upon arriving was to remove the little piles of rolly-poly termite
droppings laying in lumps all over the floor. As soon as I turned on
the lights, a gecko or two would skitter across the walls and
disappear behind an arithmetic poster or hide in a dark corner behind
the broom and mop handles.
 |
| Little angels |
 |
| 7A beauties |
 |
| All the sodas and happy faces will be explained the further you read... |
Yes, there was a learning curve.
The students and staff members are the
only reason that every morning I kept returning to my dustpan full of
termite poo. I can't say enough how much I enjoyed being amongst
them.
 |
| Balloons and leis |
 |
| Fragrant and beautiful |
On my last day, my 6A class threw me a
surprise pizza and ice cream party. This particular 6th
grade group consisted of 18 rowdy boys and 4 unfortunate girls.
Throughout the year, my main challenge with my 6A group was to lasso
their straying focus and squelch their constant bickering. They had
this thing they would do to each other that would send one or two of
the students into fits of bawling, squalling and shrieking! They
would “call my dad's name”.
 |
| Darling 6A and 6B girls! |
 |
| Seriously - this is just the beginning of the offerings |
 |
| Dear friend and colleague, Tricia |
When the first complaint of “call my
dad's name” came to my attention, I looked at the sad-faced victim
incredulously and shrugged, which sent the child back to his desk in
slow motion with tears streaming down his cheeks and ended with a
lowered and heaving head on the desk for the remainder of the class
period. I was stunned. Not knowing if I had stumbled into some
ancient cultural superstitious island warrior voodooish hex thing
(but realizing the intense seriousness of the effect it had on my
sensitive students), I turned to them for guidance. "Okay, I give.
What is the meaning of “call your dad's name?””, I asked the
panorama of wounded faces. My 6A students perked right up and were
only too delighted to explain to me the seriousness of it.
 |
| Candy leis are very popular |
I paused, nodding my head up and down to demonstrate how well I understood this heinous grievance, and let that sink in for a couple of minutes while I conjured up a worthy response. Coming up with absolutely nothing other than a poor attempt at connecting dots, I pointed out that my own father's name is Perttu, simplified to Pert, and that if they needed to make fun of a father's name they could feel free to use my father's name. (I really didn't think he would mind and after all these years, with a name like that in Dallas, he's probably used to it anyway.) I triumphantly let that settle over my bewildered 6A Class. It worked for exactly one day.
For weeks I handed out disciplinary verdicts and punishments to deal with “call my dad's name”, and for more weeks my relentless group continued to call dad's names until I could no longer take anymore fits of pure outrage, undulating wails and shuddering sobs! I lit into them good. I made up a school rule and told them that all the teachers had banded together to form a new official school policy. As of that second, I told them, it was strictly forbidden to call anyone's dad's name and that if they continued such nonsense ever on the campus at any time that they would be sent to the Director's Office for immediate suspension – or even worse – they would “suffer me!”, a successful Stryder line I learned from the Lord of the Rings trilogy when he was speaking to a group of rambunctious ghosts. That scolding earned me the cheerful nickname “Mrs. Military Meri”, which when uttered, summoned up preteen fits of non-stop contagious giggling.
And so it was this particular group that proffered a “Going Away” party, the first surprise party of my life. Sodas, cookies, chips and all the junk food side dishes that accompany a proper pizza and ice cream party were provided at the celebration. And to get me out of the classroom so they could sneakily prepare, they feigned an outdoor fight between two of my more believable darlings. Such cunning little angels they are! And students from my other classes brought me lovely gift after lovely gift. Their generosity was overwhelming. The hugs and kisses I received were mutually returned.
My sweet, sweet kids... such delightful treasures.
I will really, really, really miss
them.
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