21:30 -- Deja vu...

We had a two-hour delay.

I'll say it again because it never happens: We had a two-hour delay.  Supposedly, there was a power outage somewhere nearby and everyone knows dark buildings and students don't mix.  They just equal trouble (and extra time).  Which, afforded me a coffee break at Starbucks with a friend before heading to school, and a few unexpected chat times with teachers, and an opportunity to collaborate on an upcoming project with a team mate.

So, with verve and anticipation, my outspread arms grasped a laptop, iPad, notebook, glass of water, a pencil, and school key as I clicked down the tile hallway to see her. Beforehand in my classroom, I used engineer stealth to stack these must-haves.  After all, last year when heading to a meeting, I absent-mindedly shut a spiral notebook in my laptop, which, in turn blackened two-thirds of my screen right where the spirals made contact.  (It was a crisis of district proportion that, after sweat and tears [mine], found resolution at the hand of a Computer Fairy.  Thankfully.)  

But, I digress...

At an impromptu workspace created in her room, we talked about close reading, and immersion, and transference.  We talked about research, and conferences, and Mary Ehrenworth.  I balanced my laptop on my....lap....and took notes while analyzing media clips.  We made progress.  I got excited.  (Nerd Girl Problem #432: Giddiness developed over really cool learning opportunity.)  With one smooth motion, I placed my machine on the student desk behind me.  I needed my hands to properly communicate my message.

And there it waited, patiently, until I was finished.  Our talking birthed ideas that needed documentation, so I jerked backward, watching my left hand
          grasp the keyboard slowly beside the QAZ
               push it over to the desk's edge
                    feel its weight a top my fingers mid air
                              release it like a hot potato falling
                                        down
                                                  down
                                                            down.
                                                                      THUNK.
                              Resting on its side, it looked like a proper L.
                    Eyes shut; asleep.
           Devilishly dim in the mid-morning light.

Before I saw the L, I saw last fall's blackened computer screen in my mind.  I felt the stress, too, of calling technology; groveling to my boss; enlisting the help of friends to troubleshoot.  I imagined making the choice: no computer or paying the district for my broken one.  And, here I sat, again, in the middle of the messy scenario.

Fingers flying, I called my friend at central office.  She's a techno goddess.  I recapped my problem between nervous giggles.  "Have you tried turning it off and rebooting?"

I hadn't.  That solution was too easy.  Too obvious.

Half-heartedly, I powered the laptop down and then up again.  A tell-tale beep announced Microsoft's presence; a district logo -- yellow and vibrant-- filled the screen.

(Gasp.)

My cheeks stretched into an ecstatic smile, my eyes danced at the thought of dodging replacement fees.  They both faded, post haste, in embarrassment.

I just called my superior so she could invite me to turn off my computer.

Really?
Really.

It's like Deja vu...although this time, the Computer Fairy was Techno Goddess.

Write on,
b