My heart and brain are too tired from teaching to say much, which makes me sad. However, Ross and I took a trip to New Hampster (tm Molly) today to enjoy the foliage, which makes me happy. Also, I drove for an hour on the highway coming back! It was quite exhilarating, and not very stressful since the roads were generally empty for most of the way. Here are some pictures of the colours we saw today:

Standing in the middle of all that gold and fire and crayon orange, I kept thinking: If only I could take my kids out here every day, I bet they’d be calmer, happier, better human beings.

On the other hand, perhaps they’d just find a way to turn the leaves into projectile weapons of some kind.

I reproduce, for your edification and for insight into the workings of the parental mind, an excerpt from the email my father sent me this morning.*

——————————————–

Subject: Driving Typs (I love this typ-o.)

Greetings love.  I have yet to shake off this fllu and it (or themany tablets that I am taking)  is making me feel worried (?morbid)  as well as a little depressed. (My poor dad! Everybody send your best get-well wishes to 42 East Coast Avenue in Singapore.) It must be the former that prompts me to write to you about driving tips. I was once a car rally winner. (1972 it was) ( What? A car rally winner? What is this? Where is this coming from? Why have I never been told this?? Dad, if you’re reading this, please leave a comment detailing your car rally winning history for all to see and understand. Because it is a closed book to your daughter, although apparently you told Ross the whole story during some mysterious walk to Harvard Square this summer.)
 
So, for what their are worth (In other words, “I know I can’t MAKE you follow them, since you’re nine THOUSAND miles away…), the S*thi family (a little appeal to family loyalty there) rules (Yes! Rules! Rules I BEG you to follow! In order that you see how imperative they are, I shall use CAPITAL LETTERS LIBERALLY!) on driving are :

1    keep eyes on the road ALL the time ( Well, yes, of course I do this, except when I’m watching movies on that DVD player we installed between the two front seats…)
2    hands on the steering wheel ALL the time (But… but… can’t I change the radio station? Oh wait. Am I allowed to listen to the radio? Because it’s the only source of news I have the time for. If I didn’t listen to NPR on my commute, Boston could be taken over by body-snatching aliens and I wouldn’t know until my body got snatched. Isn’t that worth a little hands off the steering wheel time?)
3    declare your intentions all the time i.e. indicate when you want to turn, change lanes etc (I’ve got this one DOWN. I’m an indicating freak.)
4    Do not talk when you drive (I have not been able to manage this.I think it applies to rally driving) ( Again with the mysterious rally driving references. Who are you, and what have you done with my daddy?)
 
In addition Rani was allowed to drive on her own at night only after 6months of driving with another driver when driving at night. (I like the way he brings up my sister, as if my deep sense of justice and fairness will compel me to follow the same rules she had to follow. I suppose when your youngest daughter is nine THOUSAND miles away and you are worried that she will die a horrible death in a car accident, you have to appeal to her deep sense of justice and fairness, in order to save her life.)

——————————————–

Well, there you have it: official proof that my poor parents are terrified of the fact that I am now allowed behind the wheel of a car. And they pretend to be proud… really they’re shaking in their bones.

*Dad, I hope you don’t mind me doing this. I only make fun of you because I know you can take it. ;-)

P.S. Received a wonderful letter from Susan Warhover this afternon when I got home that made my whole day. Hi, Susan! Look! You’re famous! Glad to hear you’re getting so domestic — wanna come over and help me organize? ;-)

P.P.S. Those of you I’ve talked to recently know that things at school are much more rough around the edges than they seem based on the few entries I’ve made. I’m not talking about being in control of my classes (although I did get hit by a paper bullet this morning. Rest assured my injuries will heal with time, and the offender is in deep. DEEP. Trouble.). It’s just that the school as a whole is a bed of chaos, partly because everything (kids, teachers, building) is so new and partly because my boss, while a beautiful soul, seems to have a little trouble dealing with details. Which is sort of a problem when you’re in charge of everything. Anyway, that’s all I want to say right now. Stories, I promise, will resume as soon as possible.

Pppppppppppppst…… Dad, I love you and I promise I’m a very safe driver. Except when I’m watching those DVDs, of course.

… here I come, brand new driver’s license in hand — or rather, in mail! Right now all I have is my temporary paper license, and theoretically the shiny plastic one will arrive in my mailbox in the next three weeks. We shall see. In any case, the portly and somewhat gruff policeman who passed me (somewhat against his better judgement, I think) stamped, signed, and sealed my fate about an hour ago.

The whole thing only took about 10 minutes. It went like this:

1) I back out of my parking space nicely (with a little help from my tester) and drive slowly down a couple of streets, making full and complete stops at all stop-signs. I impress my tester so much in the first 30 seconds of the drive that he asks how much experience I’ve had, and when I say three and a half months he tells me I drive like I’ve been doing it for ten years. (Since I’m me, and completely incapable of accepting praise without over-analysis, at this point I’m obviously thinking “Oh, great. Now when I mess up you’ll be disappointed in me.”)

2) He asks me to parallel park and I manage to do it without too much drama (and with a little more help from him). When I am done, I put the car into park and pull up the brake. “You’re parked on a hill,” he says. “What else should you do?” I have no idea what he is talking about, so I do the only thing I can think of — I straighten the wheel out some.

Talking to Ross later, I realise that this action (undertaken purely by fluke) saved my butt. When you’re parked on a hill, you’re apparently supposed to angle the wheels towards the curb, so that if for some reason your brakes fail you’ll roll into the curb instead of into the car behind you or down the hill. Thank goodness for whatever made me futz with the wheel, because it must have convinced him I knew what he meant.)

3) I nearly bang into the bumper of the car in front of me when I’m pulling out — gah! He pulls up the hand-brake and saves me. At this point I am afraid I will fail.

4) I make a pretty good 3 point turn. Phew!

5) I back up (sort of) straight down the street. I feel very shaky, but I guess I do an ok job.

6) He tells me to drive back to the testing place and stamps me passing! I am convinced he is failing me until I see him write “PASS” on the paper. I want to kiss his feet, but he is a big burly policeman so I refrain.

7) I thank him for my license and his advice, and he tells Ross to “Watch her!” when he gets out of the car. Heh.

8) I fail completely to back up into the right side of the street and have to leave the lot from the opposite lane. The policeman gives me a look and says “That’s why you have to back up onto the right side!” But it’s TOO LATE. I ALREADY HAVE MY LICENSE.

I HAVE MY LICENSE.

I AM ALLOWED TO DRIVE BY MYSELF.

I WILL NO LONGER HAVE TO USE MY PASSPORT AS ID! (Although now that I’m teaching full time I usually dress sharp enough that no one cards me anymore. Maybe I’ve developed that “adult” look.)

There is a lot of other news from The Great Adventure, both good and bad, but the only thing I want to share is this:

My girls (four groups out of five, anyway), put on 2 minute presentations of Greek myths this afternoon, with an audience and everything (I invited another girls’ class to come and watch). They were great. I mean, the acting was pretty awful, and the scripts were kind of minimal, but only two people cried, only one group refused to perform (I bet they regretted it, because the audience was incredibly supportive and whooped everyone loudly), and the girl who played Hades had the Best. Darth Vader voice. Ever.