Today there was just enough cheese, just enough beans, and one tortilla left in order to make myself a quesadilla for lunch.
I have lately begun compiling a list in a little Moleskine of things that make me happy. This is among them.
I rather hate deciding on blog titles, but even more than that, I hate picking the url. I type in something that I think will be relevant, appropriate, and well-received, only for the little guy to tell me that it's not available. Well, okay, I think to myself, and I type that one into my browser to see the blog that jacked my url. The *extremely* frustrating part? Rarely does the person make good use of it! I show up and it's all dusty and quiet and there sits a single post from 2004 about how they are going to spend so much time on here and update it all the time.
I suppose this is sort of hypocritical since I don't know how often I'm going to frequent this one, but I'll bet you it will be more than once.
Anyway.
Today is the reception for my principal, Mr. Sherman. He's been teaching since like, the 20s (aka the past 31 years), and is finally retiring with the class of '09. There's a group on Facebook dedicated to him where people that ever had him as their principal can type a little note wishing him well that will be compiled into a scrapbook. People have traveled pretty impressive distances to come to this reception too, apparently.
I do find it interesting that a guy that can barely construct a proper sentence and smokes cigarettes multiple times a day in the school boiler room is so popular. I suppose if you only knew that about him, you'd wonder too. But Mr. Sherman is a good guy for the job. Granted, being able to send out an appropriately written email is probably in the job description, but he loves his kids. He is approachable and trustworthy, and always outside his office (or on his way to the boiler room) high-fiving us. I suppose administration isn't just about the actual administrative duties.
When it comes down to it, Mr. Sherman--Sherm, the Shermanator, etc.--will be dearly missed. Berthoud High School won't ever be quite the same without him.
