Author: Pavowski

I am a teacher, runner, father, and husband. I am an author-in-progress. I'm bad at jiu-jitsu. I know just enough about a lot of things to get me into a lot of trouble.

Go Between

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A student asked me to say “hi” to another student yesterday.

The student receiving the greeting is a student he had texted, from my classroom, only a few minutes prior — and one he would text again, later in the evening.

But he still wanted me to say “hi” to him when he came in the next day.

See, our school is doing this “hybrid” schedule where we essentially have two student bodies alternating days in the classroom, so if your last name begins with a B and your friend’s last name begins with a W, it’s entirely likely you may not see that student at school until January.

So now, like Juliet’s nurse, I’m passing greetings from one group to the other, relating stories of what happened on Monday to the classmates coming in on Tuesday… even though these kids are all in contact with each other at the jingle of a text message.

I guess there’s still something about the human contact. Something in the fact that even though they don’t see each other, they do still see me; they share that experience, at least, and that’s something. Kind of like knowing that your long-distance girlfriend is looking up and seeing the same moon hanging in the sky as you talk on the phone into the night.

Right before she hangs up on you and runs out the door with Todd.

WHY, SHEILA??

Behind the Mask

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Masks are like, so hot right now (or I guess, depending on your circles, anti-hot).

I’m one of those ultra-cautious types wearing one almost everywhere, which is to say I wear it at work, and I wear it to the store, and that’s just about it because I’m not going anywhere else (seriously, you should still be staying at home if you can). So I’m wearing it a lot. And because I teach theatre, I’m sort of professionally interested in the things we do with our faces.

And I have caught myself smiling behind my mask more often than I would think I might. Which strikes me as odd, because in normal times, I smile all the time: that tight-lipped, not-quite-full smile (as JoCo would say, “the kind that doesn’t come with teeth”).

The fake smile, in other words. Which is, of course, my mask in non-mask wearing times: the chipper, friendly-but-not-too-friendly grin.

But when I smile behind my mask — and again, I’m doing this more and more often — it’s not the fake smile. Why would I need to fake it? Nobody can see it.

Strange how wearing the mask makes me — comfortable, I guess? — enough to show emotions, even though it covers those emotions up.

Chillin’

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Fall is attempting to arrive — finally — and we can put that firmly in the category of “good things in 2020”.

Fall arriving means mornings with temperatures in the 50s, which is my favorite. Morning runs with a temperature between 50-60 degrees are some of the best things about running, putting aside that running is obviously the key to eternal youth.

But fall not yet having fully arrived means daytime temperatures still hanging close to 90, which is not my favorite. There are only so many clothes I can take off before public decency laws get broken.

Daytime temperatures in the 90s means the A/C is cranked up to eleven in my school, which is good, but in my tiny office room, which I’m pretty sure does not have its own temperature sensor, the air just keeps blowing and blowing, and I have to bundle up.

Honestly, another shirt — and maybe some gloves — would not go amiss.

This can’t be good for my body or my brain; every time I leave the building I have to deal with the shift, so I’m either charging fully suited-up for the cold into the 90-degree heat or plunging jacket- and hat-less back into the frigid depths of my office.

Routine is all kinds of busted today, but I did get some chapters edited, so progress marches along.

Happy Tuesday.

Super Productive, Not Productive Enough

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It’s amazing what a day without students can do for a teacher.

I’ve been so incredibly productive — both in terms of the things I’m supposed to be doing, i.e. for my classes and my students, and also for other stuff, i.e. making progress on the novel — that it’s hard to believe I fit everything into an 8-hour period.

But at the same time it feels like I didn’t get nearly enough done. There’s always more work to do, always the sense that I could’ve gotten more done. I never know whether to pat myself on the back for getting things done or kick myself for not doing enough.

how bout both GIF by Joey Bada$$

Oh well. Happy Friday.

Shaving Cream Ear

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I came in to work today feeling good. Got to sleep in a little bit, didn’t have students in the building today, nice, easy drive in. Had myself a great little work session, got a handful of things done, then went into the main building. Checked mail, got a great little pick-me-up (a student nominated me for teacher of the month!), said hi to some co-workers — a lot of co-workers, actually. Sat and talked with some colleagues for a little bit, the usual workplace venting and complaining and resolving to carry on with new burdens. All in all, a great morning.

Got back to my building, went to the bathroom, caught my reflection in the mirror —

And there, just above the line of my mask (yeah I’m virtue-signaling, bring it), hanging off my earlobe, dried and crusted like a day-old bird turd, was a big ol’ glob of shaving cream.

This happens to me a lot, actually. Always the right ear. Maybe I’m like one of those people who gets brain damaged and can’t see the right sides of people’s faces, but only fills it in based on what the left side looks like. (Except that I very clearly noticed it in the mirror later, so I guess that’s out.)

Anyway, a bit of water and it’s gone, no big deal — except that I greeted over a dozen co-workers with shaving cream on my ear. I walked around the building for an hour with shaving cream on my ear. I had an impromptu department meeting — for fifteen minutes! — with shaving cream on my ear. Say what you will about me making it from my house to my job in such a sorry state; if we are colleagues, friends, acquaintances — I expect you to tell me when I look like an idiot!

This has to be the bare minimum we set for each other, to look out for each other and make sure we don’t go on from a given encounter looking ridiculous. We owe each other that much.

I would do it for you.

Tomorrow I’m going to put a dollop on both ears and see how long it takes for somebody to say something.