"A few bricks shy of a load."

I haven't checked the moon phase lately but I'm most certain that we're still a ways off before the next full moon. Clearly something seismic or celestial has to be at play. Our students here at Jacobson Elementary are the barometer for their environment. When things are out of whack it resonates throughout the student body. With no full moon in sight, I can only write this off as another Freaky Friday.

Due to some data privacy issues and fear of litigation, let me just say that two separate incidents prior to 10 o'clock this morning involved a police officer and then an ambulance. Unrelated, the officer was here to assist the principal on a weapons possession issue, while the ambulance was responding to a medical emergency. I'm happy to report the young man with medical concerns was on his way to see the family doctor but not before he gave me a hug and walked out under his own power. The other fella won't be with us for a few days, as he can sit at home and think about the seriousness of what he did.

Even in all this excitement, these out of the ordinary instances aren't the best story of the day.

Our morning hallway routines prior to the first bell have recently been a focus point of the administration. Some kids have been reluctant to brave the cooling temperatures outside and have been opting to wander the hallways. The problem lies in that our supervision is outdoors. The causeways go relatively unsupervised. Kids are expected to drop off their backpacks and either head to the cafeteria or back outside to release their wiggles before starting the school day. Loitering isn't allowed.

So this morning as I weaved in and out of the knee-highs swimming through the hallway, I noticed a group of boys gathered around a backpack outside of my 4th grade colleague's door. Not paying much attention, I fired off a broad comment. Something of the likes of, "Hey Dudes, where are we supposed to be in the morning?" My presence and my question startled a few of them and their reactions peaked my interest in the contents of said backpack.

As the events of the morning unfolded, I honestly forgot about the harmless boy and his friends huddled around the hallway contraband. When I say "harmless boy", I would like to emphasize that the owner of this backpack is a simpleton at best. To say he is a few bricks shy of a load would give him some credit of actually owning a few bricks. This new boy is struggling daily to fit in. He's a crier, awkward and an interesting fella to just sit and watch sometimes.

Well, when the dust settled a bit from my weapons possession dilemma I remembered that I wanted to grab my co-worker and explore the contents of Simpleton's backpack. Leery to unzip and reach in to the world of a scatter-brained 9 year old, my partner and I pressed on. What we discovered, neither of us had anticipated.

A full sized bottle of Nexxus Conditioner. Like he took it right from the shelf in the shower or from Mom's beauty cabinet.

I was puzzled.

My co-worker connected the dots immediately and began to point and laugh.

"Kirby! Every since you and that wild hair cut of yours....all of the boys in my class want to be just like you. All they talk about is who puts what in their hair! Awwww, how sweet - he was lathering conditioner on his head because he wants to be like you!"

I'm flattered but I'd like to go on record as saying that this New Do is not achieved with a dollop of conditioner. I am a pomade man.

Johnny Law...

Wake up calls can come in many forms.

Usually a "shot across the bow" is enough to get my attention and remind me to re-focus and re-load. 

Johnny Law fired a couple of warning shots my way last night.

I got you - Law Dawg. 

I read you Loud and Clear. 

At approximately 19:52 Central Standard Time, the Chisago County Sherrif's Deputy activated his emergency lights and pulled me over on Main Street in Rush City - his reasoning was not coming to a complete stop in a residential area. My "California Stop" gave him due cause to investigate further. I acknowledged that "it had to have been back on Harte Avenue by Mr. Schlagel's house" and then explained to him that "it had been a long night of Parent/Teacher conferences and that I was looking forward to being home with my wife and kids."

I handed him ID and proof of insurance and he asked where and what I teach. Being that he was staked a block from the elementary school, I thought maybe he could deduce some of that on his own. Not wanting to insult the young officer, I stuck with the facts. In no time the officer ran my plates and ID and sent me on my merry way with a verbal warning.

I was happy to be back on the road again but knew that I was lucky to have escaped the long arm of the law. I was guilty as the day I was born...guilty of trying to get my mind off of work and in to some 93X rock music for the ride home. I rolled through the stop sign - everyone does it. This time I was thankful to receive only a slap on the wrist. 

Ten miles down the road, another set of emergency lights shone in my rear view mirror. This time the Pine County Sheriffs Deputy witnessed my hairbrained attempt to turn the stoplight at Hillside Avenue and Highway 361 in to a stop sign. Ya see, I didn't blow through it. I actually stopped AND THEN drove right through the red light above my head and in to oncoming traffic from the west. I knew it the second it happened. I gave an embarrassed wave to the white pickup truck who luckily was attentive enough not to rearrange my front end. Although a bit late, I slowed and moved to the right to yield and clear the intersection. It was seconds later that the bright, flashing, colorful lights appeared. 

This time I decided to pull over in to the large parking lot just up the road. I hoped the officer would appreciate that I led him off of the road where knuckleheads like me were just trying to get home. 

Mr. Pine City Cop approached with a little more caution and was markedly more alert to current events and the endless possibilities of mindless idiots behind the steering wheels in today's society. He immediately asked about the presence of any weapons. I assured him he might find some bowhunting stuff in the back but there were no firearms aboard. He asked if I knew why he stopped me. I interrupted him mid-sentence to accept full responsibility and then I divulged my unfortunate encounter with the neighboring county law enforcement just minutes before. My bad ride home hadn't gotten better. 

A blown stoplight at a relatively busy intersection was a major step up from rolling through the stop sign by Bob's house. It nearly caused an accident and the officer's stern tone reminded me of that. As Mr. Pine City cop returned to his squad to process my info, a second deputy approached my passenger side with flashlight in hand. I rolled down my window and offered up conversation. I think my truthful openness and obvious embarrassment made my case more easy to dismiss. For the second time in one evening, I escaped a fine - tucked my tail and rolled home. 

My post from a few days ago eluded to the fact that it's the time of year that we become Ricochet Rabbit and bounce, bounce, bounce from one thing to the next....after last night's run ins with the LAW, I'm ready to take a few steps back.

Zero to Sixty

And just like that there's frost on the ground, geese in the air, and ice in the arena.

This summer we bought a "new to us" dining room table. The other day I joked with Michele that we should trade it in for some sports equipment lockers and a revolving door. 'Tis the season of Sunday night meal planning with the best intentions but truthfully scraping together meals on the go as we dance the delicate balance of being a family of jocks. We haven't used our new table more than half a dozen times.

Emma has 3 JV volleyball games this week. Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. She is also scheduled for hockey practice on Wednesday and Friday. Logan has football practice on Monday and Thursday and hockey on Tuesday and Friday.

Michele's walking the fine line of being the new gal on the block at her new job. The call of the early alarm clock is making each early bedtime more crucial each day. Kettle bell class has proven just as important.

Mindless school paperwork, home insurance red tape and earth changing hockey decisions have engulfed me like the fiery infernos of northern California. Nearing mid-week, I thirst for the relief that the weekends bring.  Do the Math. That equals neglected chores, neglected deer stands and neglected dogs.

But that's OK. We are making our own choices. Emma will miss some hockey to honor her commitment to the volleyball team and being a teenager. And the world will not come to a halt. Logan is getting his homework in and learning some lessons on how procrastination can be the thief of time. And time marches on. I'm hanging in there and treading water with a mostly positive attitude. The problems of adulting haven't disappeared. We just accept them and move on. Momma is the glue that binds us all. She handles the changing of the tides like a consummate professional.

And it's all good in the 'hood.

I only know how I feel...

That guy in the blue shirt on the far left... hearing his Senior Drill Instructor's voice...

"Bring your left heel against the right.

Turn your feet out equally to form an angle of 45 degrees. Keep your heels on the same line and touching.

Your legs should be straight, but not stiff at the knees.

Keep your hips and shoulders level and your chest lifted.

Your arms should hang naturally, thumbs along the trouser seams, palms facing inward toward your legs, fingers joined in their natural curl and elbows in.

Keep your head and body erect. Look straight ahead. Keep your mouth closed and your chin pulled in slightly.

Stand still and do not talk."

This is the "Position of Attention." I was taught it in Boot Camp, right away. When not in uniform, it serves as a salute - a proper means of showing respect. In times that demand respect, i.e. - Taps, Reveille, National Anthem or when called on the carpet for a good ass chewing - you will stand at the Position of Attention.

It is a salute, a polite recognition and acknowledgement. A homage to honor those that came before you. 

First Note to the Last Note. Period.

If the Marines on Iwo Jima could charge in to the hellfire that was Mount Surabachi, you can lock your body up and stand there for 2 and a half damn minutes. If those Army soldiers clinging to life on the beaches of Normandy could face insurmountable odds yet continue to fight on, you can stop what you're doing and pay some respect during the playing of a song and the passing of our Flag.

*********************************************************************************

March on the Colors... I love this picture. 

Miss Jeanine captured this moment at the home football field of the Aitkin Gobblers a hundred years ago. Aitkin could always be counted on for having a below average High School band - so the music is a distant memory. Yet, the images of their color guard are burned in my mind. 

It seemed the local VFW sent their most grizzled veterans to carry out a few steps in Close Order Drill. Their disheveled uniforms and crooked garrison caps seemed to match their out of step cadence which somehow made me admire them even more. I distinctly remember believing that at any point one of the old duffers was going to knock off his Piss Cutter while going to Port Arms. It always felt that at any moment one of them could stumble, fall over or heaven forbid - drop the colors. 

Locked tight, I focused on those men and swore that I could get to them before the Flag ever touched the ground if one of them faltered. But they NEVER DID.

Ever.

Even though it may look like I'm at mid-field, the Tigers are lined up on the visiting team's sideline, just a few yards behind me. This one picture captured me standing for just one National Anthem. I coached for a long time. I've stood this way for the song hundreds of times.

Miss Jeanine noticed. 

She once told me that she always noticed but never understood...

until her oldest son joined the Marine Corps.

Accidentally?

Three weeks in on year seventeen of my teaching career and I am flat worn out. However, I'm comforted that the hilarity of my job will provide me an endless bank of stories to tell while sitting around a campfire swilling bourbon for years to come.

"I'm sorry Mr. Kirby. I accidentally licked my Glue Stick."

The above sentence was actually spoken to me late last week.

I haven't figured out how 4th graders rationalize their little worlds but I'm always amused when good kids explain their mistakes by saying that they "Accidentally" did something. Maybe it comes from the days of messing in our underpants and Mom and Dad calling it an accident, who knows?

But wait, there's more. (There always is.)

This year has been especially challenging as budget constraints have placed 29 students in my classroom.  After assigning a Cut and Paste vocabulary worksheet on "Landforms", I thought I would be afforded a few minutes of down time. Time to actually sit at my desk for a second. Maybe even have a chance to grade a few papers without constantly having to be up and about "putting out fires". Seriously, I've been playing "Whack a Mole" on 4th graders with the attention spans of puppies since Day One.

My most challenging girl came to me and said she didn't have a glue stick. To her I responded, "I can lend you one but I just saw you with yours yesterday. What happened?"

"I shoved a Starburst in it and ate it."

Yeah, you read that correctly. She shoved the chewy confectionery in to her paste tube and consumed the whole kit and caboodle.

I shook my head, not so much in disbelief and handed her one of my sticks anyway, oblivious as to what would happen next.

Moments later, I had 3 more students talked in to the idea of licking away at their Elmer's Glue Sticks.

Knuckleheads, Average Joe's and the recently elected Student Council Representative were convinced by Mr. Mohawk that ALL Glue Sticks are edible and tasty even. So away they licked - like the Owl from the Tootsie Roll Ads of old. Yep on Friday of Week #3, 4th graders stuffed their faces with paste. The same 4th graders that have been gobbling up and spitting out pieces of pencils since Labor Day. The same 4th graders that seem to have an endless supply of bracelet making rubber bands. The same 4th graders that have drilled holes with their ink pens 200 pages deep in to their Composition notebooks. The same 4th graders that bring Freezie Pops in the backpacks for 10:15 "snack time". The same 4th graders whose parents have them opted OUT of Intervention Services designed to provide extra help in areas of individualized need.

By the way - "Starburst and Glue Sticks" is an Actual THING - Google it.
Stinkin' YOUTube!
#$*&%$@@#$&

I think tonight I'm going to ACCIDENTALLY have a couple extra cherries in my Moonshine.

"Paging Mr. Herman - Mr. Herman to the front desk."

"Bueller?"
"Bueller?

"The BLOG needs a little attention," they say.

I concur.

It's a prized family possession. Unlike the rotting Cadillac in Stall #2.

This archive of the ins and outs and ups and downs of the Kirby Krew has been left unattended for far too long.

Like the auger with bad gas in the lines, it'll go. Ya just gotta give it a pull. Pump the primer. Have faith. There's life in there somewhere.

I must commit to less Facebook and more chronicling of our lives.
I must commit to getting the rest of my obligations taken care of posthaste and then pecking away at the keys like I used to do.

It brings me joy - this Blog. It really does.

So then, why then has it been neglected for so long?

My fictional heroes have excused my from regular contributions and random story telling here on these interwebs.

David Wooderson put it best - "The older you do get, the more rules they're going to try to get you to follow. You just gotta keep livin' man. L.I.V.I.N."

Andy Dufresne added, "Get busy living or get busy dying."

That's what I've been doing...that's what Michele and I have been doing together.

Living.

Raising some kids, cleaning up after some dogs, mowing some lawns, gallivanting from Virginia to Vegas, tossing out old junk and accumulating more of the same, hockey and homework,kettle bells and canoes, sunscreen and hammocks, job switches and status quo, Friday night dinner dates and a new coat of paint, long walks and short naps, more bleacher popcorn than the F.D.A. could reasonably approve of, cancers and car problems, scratch offs and slot machines, hopes and dreams, hard work and perseverance.

I love my life and I love my wife.
(My kids and dogs too.)

I just haven't written about those things in a while... it feels good to be back.

I'm just looking for clues at the scene of the crime...

Alaska Airlines delivered me safely to MSP one year ago, yesterday.

Having spent the better part of 10 months in the Arctic, I came back with a bushy red beard, some long hair to go with it and looking for a few pounds I lost along the way. Hard to imagine that a year has passed since the great adventure on the edge of the Chukchi Sea but it has.

With little fanfare, I feel like I've assimilated back in to the Middle Minnesota life nicely.

Youth sports seasons have come and gone with a deeper appreciation to just to be able to sit and watch. To be Dad in the Stands or in some cases, on the bench. School pictures, dances, report cards, sleepovers, and homework help, reminded me regularly that there's still plenty of parenting left for Michele and I to do. Only now, we can do it together. Instead of Skype being the highlight of my weeks while away, I look forward to holding hands with the Missus over dinner and a date. We can have "our show" together again or enjoy a walk around the neighborhood on a whim. The dogs accept me as Alpha again.

Life's Been Good to Me So Far...

Life was good BEFORE Alaska but the high and hard, professional curveball that the School Board threw my way sure sent me for a loop. But a year later, to use another baseball term, I think I fought it off nicely. I made some contact and put that ball in play. I took a very bad thing and WE turned it in to a very positive experience for our family.

Make no mistake, I miss Kivils... I miss the kids that made my days difficult. Other times, those same kids made it a highlight of my career. I speak of them often. Their pictures hang in my classroom. I miss my friends I made along the way. Some I'll see again soon - other's, most likely never again. The mountains and the ocean...lots of wonderful things to fill my memory banks.

And here we are...sometimes it's as if it never happened. We didn't skip a beat - and just like that a year has gone by.

Lucky I'm sane after all I've been through
(Everybody say I'm Cool, he's cool)
I can't complain but sometimes I still do
Life's been good to me so far.