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18 june 2002

new review! unexpected store in unexpected place. the best kind.

impromptu student dance in the courtyard

about last week

Summertiiiiiiiiiime, and the living is sneee-zeeee...

Aah, summer. Dammit.

Last week was, shall we say, challenging. Judging from the people who had to deal with and look at me, this may be a wee bit of an understatement. The short story is that I got a full snoot of summer, and it was darn uncomfortable.

I always preface my grumbling about these matters by this: it could be so much worse. I don't know that my allergies could be a hell of a lot worse, but there are a lot worse things that I could deal with. That said, summer can be rough on me, especially since Winston-Salem's ozone levels are now capable of reaching toward dangerous levels.

If you're not familiar with what I'm talking about, meteorologists now try to forecast the ozone level (in addition to kindly doing pollen and grass counts) for people like me. If the ozone forecast is orange or red, I have to double up on the asthma meds and stay indoors as much as possible. If it's a purple day, I'm better off just not leaving the house. Add to all of this that our grass count has been through the roof recently, and I'm beat. Literally. Try getting out of bed when you're a quart low with swollen eyes and a raging immune system.

It's like getting beaten up, only from the inside.

All of this I can deal with. Like I have a choice, right? I scarf down my meds, and off into the day I go.

Until last week at the Mexican restaurant.

So I'm sitting there with Amy and family, when I'm slowly overcome with this rather uncomfortable...sensation. Why is my face itching like this? What are these peculiar bumps on my head and neck? Why do I feel like I've been placed in a microwave?

Dinner ends, and I go home. Within a couple of hours, my face and neck are covered in hives. My eyes have swollen to slits, and I'm downing a questionable amount of Benadryl to keep this under control. So now I've gone from this sucks to this is scary, and I am more than thankful that the Benadryl at least stops the progression. Off I go to bed.

I awaken to this-cannot-be-my-face-ack. And all I can think about is that in two hours, I have to face thirty loudmouthed eighth graders who get a big kick out of my warp-speed ability to blush. Is it acne? Is it hives? Maybe if I wear a gold shirt, they'll think I'm celebrating school spirit or something. Doubt it.

Weighing my options (I can medicate or call a sub), I choose the former. I've got these summer school kids reading and somewhat enthusiastic about something, and I'd feel like a wench by ditching them over this. So I pop two Benadryl with my normal stuff, put two in my pocketbook, and down seven cups of coffee to counteract the antihistamine coma. Desperate, I gently wash my face and rub hydrocortizone cream on it. Which, I know, isn't ideal stuff, but remember that whole desperate times call for desperate measures blah blah whatever.

An hour passes. The worst of the swelling has subsided, but now I'm red and greasy looking. Nice. Is that whole "glowing" skin look still in?

NPR announces that it's going to be a red ozone day. I expected less?

I get to school and get my students started quickly on their morning journal entries. They are terribly kind to me, without me having to say a word. Shameka shooshes students who talk too loudly. Jonathan gets everyone focused on our daily lesson later in the period.

In addition to all of this, my students make me laugh. This has been an ongoing thing since I started teaching. It's not hard to get a good belly laugh out of me, but these kids are especially funny. So we're discussing how we get our news, and stay informed about our respective communities. When I tell them that I don't watch television, they are astounded. Like, they're feeling sorry for me. Without skipping a beat, Shameka asks me, "was you robbed?"

They finally asked me at the end of the period why I even bothered to come in.

They always seem surprised when I tell them that I want to.