Author: Jocelyn
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Competitive Potlucking: Invitation
My mom had a punch bowl. I do not have a punch bowl. I don’t need one. The only reason I’d need a punch bowl is to hold my excess shoes, the ones I can’t fit on the floor of my closet. Or on the floor of the back porch. Or in my special shoe…
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Swiftly
The whole thing took less than a second–the fleeting fraction of a second, in fact. It was a flash. A blip. A blur. The whole thing passed so quickly I didn’t fully feel it until the next day, the day after, again today, right now, in the dark, petrified spot at the bottom of my stomach, that fisted knot…
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when your kid is sick (guest post)
Social media inspires mighty lots of moaning. So much is lost! No one talks face-to-face anymore! Everyone on [insert social media platform of choice] is dumb! Rude! Annoying! People waste too much time clicking on stupid stuff! When these kids grow up and try to get jobs, they won’t know how to function in the real…
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I Bought from the Registry but Still Got No Invite
Nicki Hilton got married a few months ago to James Rothschild at Kensington Palace. Bewilderingly, my invitation went missing in the mail. The USPS, she flounders. It’s a shame my invite never plopped through the slot onto our front porch. Unquestionably, I would’ve gone. And if I’d attended, not only would I have kept a strict eye…
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Celebrate the Student
This week, I start my 25th year of teaching college English. The brain, she boggles. Brain has been along for the entire ride–since the first day my clammy hands pushed open the door of a classroom on the University of Idaho campus. Clutching a stack of fresh-off-the-ditto-machine, purple-inked syllabi to my chest, protecting my carefully dot-matrix-printed Instructions…
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Twelve Moments of Summer with My Twelve-Year-Old: DAY TWELVE
On the twelfth day of Summer(mas), my middle schooler gave to me: twelve plushies thrumming —————— We can trace it through the generations: the impulse towards creative expression. Paco’s paternal grandmother is an artist, a painter. Paco’s paternal grandfather is an architect, a photographer. Paco’s maternal grandmother is a hand quilter, a stitcher. …
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Twelve Days of Summer with My Twelve-Year-Old: DAY ELEVEN
On the eleventh day of summer(mas), my middle schooler gave to me: eleven piped positives ———————————– From the start, Allegra was crazy about her little brother. Excited from her soon-to-be-shorn scalp* right down to her slow-healing umbilical hernia, she gloried in having a buddy for life. For “Brudder,” she had endless hugs, tickles, adventures, and…
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Twelve Days of Summer with My Twelve-Year-Old: DAY TEN
On the tenth day of Summer(mas), my middle schooler gave to me: ten meringues a’melting ——————– When he was born, he was a big baby, fully 50% larger than his sister had been. That made sense: I’d carried him 41 days longer than I’d carried her. He’d had bonus snack time inside the sac. In the…
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Twelve Days of Summer with My Twelve-Year-Old: DAY NINE
On the ninth day of Summer(mas), my middle schooler gave to me: nine sheep a’leaping —————————————– The past couple of years, I’ve been the faculty advisor for our campus’ chapter of Phi Theta Kappa, which is the honor society for two-year colleges. It’s been a fascinating experience–something that’s foreign to my ways of functioning in the…
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Twelve Days of Summer with My Twelve-Year-Old: DAY EIGHT
On the eighth day of Summer(mas), my middle schooler gave to me: eight dropped balls a’rolling ————————– My summer teaching takes place online, allowing me the mercy of not driving to campus but, rather, typing at my students from a variety of places within my house. Always, always, I’m a better teacher when I’m not wearing…