CASSELL IN THE MEMBRANE

For the past couple of nights, when I'm laying in bed before falling asleep, I've been thinking a lot about my teaching days. Luckily, only the good and/or funny memories really stand out.

Like... the one time I was actually late to work and as I rushed to my classroom, I rounded the corner to see a vast expanse of blacktop with one single-file line of students waiting - my students. And my principal standing there as well, rolling his eyes. (He was cool like that.)

Or... the one time I came late (with permission!) because I had had Lasik eye surgery the day before and needed to see the doctor the first thing in the morning the next day. My students had been scattered amongst various classrooms. I distinctly remember, as I closed my car door, the sound of the school intercom going on and the words "Miss Santana's students may now return to their classroom" echoing off the school walls. Loud, but not as loud as the sound of multiple doors being thrown open and my students running to me to find out how I was doing.

Or... the fact that in my best year, I had four of my favorite (oh yes, teachers have favorites) students help me move. Can you imagine? I took these girls (again, with permission!) to my apartment in Santa Clara, where they packed up my whole kitchen for me, and then took them to my new apartment in Mountain View where they unpacked everything. And I mean, everything. These girls washed the dishes and glasses before they put them away, they cleaned the kitchen shelves, they tore down boxes. And they loved every minute of it - as did I. All they got for their trouble was a memorable moment and Taco Bell.

Or... my first year teaching when I was so new, I didn't think you had to actually read the social studies chapter before teaching it to your students. I learned my lesson when I did a brain bubble of Christopher Colombus - his name in the middle of a circle; students raise their hands and give me "prior knowledge"... anything they already know about him. One student said something to which I replied, "No, I don't think so" only to find upon reading aloud that he was actually right.

Or... the day that I was very hung-over and one of my more astute students commented upon seeing me, "Boy, Miss Santana, you sure do have dark circles under your eyes." Thanks, Andrew.

GOOFY

Five years ago to the day, I went on my first date with Adrian. We were going to try to hit up Chuck E. Cheese's again this evening, but Adrian didn't want to get schooled at "Street Fighter" once more. I didn't want to get sappy and write about the whole night, so I figured I'd just write about some of the more memorable moments of the night (though beating Adrian at "Street Fighter" is still tops):

• Adrian telling me he didn't need directions, but then showing up ten minutes late because he got lost.
• Instead of a flower, Adrian brought me a box of Altoids. Not the most subtle message, I know. Ok, he brought me a single rose too, but still - Altoids?
• Adrian driving through a very yellow light while on the phone with Slaven and nearly killing the both of us. Little did I know this would be a fact of life with Adrian...both the driving and the phone time with Slaven.
• (This is the last time I promise.) Beating Adrian at "Street Fighter", but I let the little kid I played next win because I'm nice like that.
  
• Mark Anderson calling Adrian at the end of night when we were back at my apartment and asking Adrian where he was. A: "At Amanda's", M: (loudly and incredulously): "Alone??"

So if you have a date anything like this in your future, just have hope. I married this wonderful man a month ago.