We’v all heard the excuses, some creative, some down right pathetic.  Sometimes, I am moved by a student’s honesty.  Tonight, I’m just plain honest – I had about 3 different stories running through my mind to slice about.  Maybe I’d share the hilarity of my 5-year-old daughter’s attempt to get a jump on her curves by stuffing a couple of skirts into her underwear and prancing around the house with her new “big buns!”

Or perhaps I’d share the joys of grocery shopping with my 7-year-old son and how we enjoyed estimating and comparing the actual weights of our produce, or how cool he felt stopping to get a frozen Chai latte with me on our trip.

Still, I could’ve shared about the bedtime book I read with my daughter, one she’d selected a while back from the library.  We are nearing the end and I noticed in two separate spots, the word “mad” had been scribbled out so fiercely that there was a hole in those two pages.  It makes me think of the little reader for who “mad” is a “bad” word.  My heart breaks at the thought that maybe this pink-covered book whose main character faces minor dissapointments might have been looking for a world in which “mad” didn’t exist.

I could’ve shared a little bit about Operation Dining Room Chairs – in which I’m experimenting with chalk paint and have removed the caned seats in hopes that I’ll be able to fashion some new ones out of solid wood and decorative cushions.

All these thoughts were colliding and competing for attention.  And yet, when I came downstairs a good 15 minutes before 9pm, I jumped right into the task of packaging crackers and teddy grahams, washing grapes and portioning mandarin oranges.  Granted, I was also eagerly finishing an audiobook of a text recommended by an 8th grade student last year.  I can certainly see why this book appealed to him, and having read it now, I’m excited to suggest it to other readers.  As I leaned over the dock, in hopes of finding another good audiobook to pass the time as I paint tomorrow, the clock beeped – it was 12am.

My heart fell, as I gasped and my hands rushed to cover my face.

I had forgotten.  All out, no creative excuses – simply forgotten.  And I hadn’t even fallen asleep or been out doing something crazy fun.  I just. plain. forgot.

What do we do with students like this?  I’m still going to write.  I’m still going to link.  But in my heart, I’m going to know.  I didn’t make it.  I didn’t do the whole thing.  And it wasn’t for anything but a simple slip of the mind…