Oklahoma Dreaming: Today
by Donna Schoenkopf
It’s 6:00 am. I lie propped up on my bed looking out my sliding glass doors. I watch as CheGuevara the Kitten scurries up the cottonwood tree outside. He’s after hummingbirds. Lots of hummingbirds. I see three kinds today. There is the red, the green and the yellow. They are after the nectar in the hummingbird feeder I couldn’t resist buying last Saturday, even though Jo Anne told me years ago that they will become dependent on it and die when winter comes. So I am going to take it down. But not today.
The tree is FULL of hummingbirds. It’s the most beautiful sight. Everyone is having the most wonderful time. The sun is an hour from setting, so long shadows lie across the “lawn” of bermuda, wildflowers and buffalo grass. Giant sunflowers stand guard everywhere, sprouts of seed clusters top the grasses and are illuminated by the setting sun.
I am tired. A good tired. I spent my first day back in the classroom today, after a year of retirement. I signed on to substitute teach, seeing as how every month I was skating to the end of the month on air. Last month I had a grand total of $2.43 left after living on $5.00 a day for a week. Seemed I couldn’t have a month without having some sort of emergency or another. But I should have known it would be that way. Since when have I EVER had a month without an emergency?? Since when has ANYONE ever had a month without an emergency?
So I applied for a substitute teacher job at a little school in Shawnee, a sweet little school. Small, clean, happy. It is the poorest school in town, with a large Indian population.
Two days ago they called and asked me if I could work on Friday, a 7th grade class. I said yes. I was so happy.
Last night I set my alarm for the first time in a year. I tested it. (Sometimes my demented brain “sees” am when I punch pm.)
But this morning I rose a half hour early. I planned my morning minute to minute. Had my clothes picked out. Changed my mind a bunch of times and settled on black. Black shirt, black pants. Figured I’d come in like Lash LaRue. Or a Goth Girl. A 65 year old, fat Goth Girl. With a bad haircut. Which I got yesterday.
Made coffee, watched politics and headed out at 7:00 am. Turned north on Interstate 177 and got off on Farrall and drove east with all the other worker bees till I got to Walnut Street. Turned east and drove alone through a neighborhood of beautiful old trees and interesting old houses. No new paint on them, but they were graceful and were once part of a respectable neighborhood. Nobody rich here now. A nice street. Some junior high aged kids were walking, backpacks on their backs, along the side of the road.
“Are any of these kids my students?” I wondered.
Got to the school. Signed in. Was shown my classroom and told I got free breakfast and lunch and did I want some coffee? No, thanks. I wanted to look over the lesson plans or whatever there was so that I wouldn’t be caught flatfooted. Kids can smell flatfootedness a mile away. No, sir. I’d be ready.
It turned out I was the Science, History and Reading teacher for the 6th, 7th and 8th grades.
The day was fast and furious and fun and some few moments of frustration. There was high giddiness. I introduced them to my special number cards, which keep the room rolling along. (I won’t bore you with details, but all teachers should know about the number cards.)
We rocketed through Egypt and the pancreas and Maniac Magee and The Call of the Wild and the Weekly Reader and Test Prep. I even sandwiched in a short story by Louis L’Amour from a book I borrowed from Tecumseh Library yesterday.
Lunch was cafeteria pizza and salad and iced tea. I sat at the teachers’ table and didn’t speak because I remembered when I taught in L.A. how we teachers hated the substitutes sitting at our table and talking nonstop about things we didn’t want to talk about. We were very protective of our territory. But we never spoke unkindly about the subs and their pushy ways behind their backs. We never, ever rolled our eyes. We just sat silently listening. We didn’t say a word. So, here I was. A sub. I sure wasn’t going to be guilty of usurping anybody’s conversation!
More highly active kids came streaming in after lunch. More this and that. Paden said privately to me that I was the best sub they ever had. Sometimes kids just want you to love them, you know?
And then the day was done. I signed out. Drove home. And threw some pillows in a pile on my bed and lay down.
That’s where we came in isn’t it?
Well, I have one more thing to add. As I was watching that beautiful Tree of Life full of hummingbirds and my kitten, what should walk around the eastern corner of my house, but two dogs. A beautiful black Lab mix with her cute three(?)-month-old puppy. Dumped, of course. I guess that makes about seven dumped dogs that have strolled onto my property since I’ve been here, which is eight months.
They were exactly the dogs I wanted. (I have been craving a couple of dogs for a while.) So I spoke to them kindly through the screen door and they loved me and I got some of the old dry cat food the cats wouldn’t eat (Remember? Don’t throw ANYTHING away!) and put piles of it on the ground and they gobbled it up and were ever so grateful.
And now I have two dogs. I will have to save up to spay them. I will have to figure out ticks and fleas and how to buy Frontline for them. I will pray they don’t eat the cats. Their eyes glinted with bloodlust when they saw Che in the tree. Don’t trust a dog who smiles and wags her tail and licks her lips when she sees a small furry mammal.
(I learned this when I was eight and Margaret Sullivan’s boxer grabbed my guinea pig. That dog clamped his jaws over my little guy after smiling and wagging his tail and licking his lips. He ran off with him in his mouth while Margaret’s pregnant mother chased him under the house and all the kids shrieked in horror. I buried Petey in the backyard that day and stood looking up in the sky as a formation of planes flew overhead and said that I would never forget that moment. And I haven’t.)
But they are great watchdogs, and I can use a couple of watchdogs out here. Already they have streaked across the property to Dave’s house when they heard his truck.
They act just like they own the place.
donna@fourstory.org
Comments
I live here and Donna knows what she is talking about. We could use some more Donna’s here if anyone else is thinking about moving.
2008-11-08 by JoGreat read! Hi Joanne!
2008-11-10 by John Schoenkopf
I am JoAnne and I approve this message. Thanks for your stories and observations of life in the country Donna. Can’t wait to hear more about substitute teaching in Oklahoma.
2008-10-18 by JoAnne Sanger