|who else is tired of self-indulgent photobooth photos?|
Today, I biked to the teacher training center prepared to engage in a rousing game of Two Truths and a Lie with my trainees. Upon arrival, I used my limited- and - mayhaps - stagnated Khmer reading skills to determine that today, the 14th, was in fact a day for no regular class for students. This was confirmed various times as I encountered fellow teachers, and so, I retired my game idea until the morrow.
However, last night as I couldn't fall asleep, I found myself thinking up rather elaborate truths and lies to share, and so I present them for your perusal, remark and, most of all, guessing.
Last week, Chris saw over my shoulder that I was 'exploring' Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. He was intrigued and without very much prodding at all, in fact, he then spent the evening being chosen by a wand and sorted into his house (by the by, do you think Dumbledore would consider age 27 an appropriate time to allow for sorting? you know, because he was concerned that sometimes, we sort too soon?). From the minute he entered the Pottermore website, I called it: he would be sorted into Gryffindor.
When he reached the Sorting Ceremony and began to answer the series of questions drafted by her literary majesty, Lady Rowling, I was confronted with bleakest sort of self-awareness as my chosen true love scoffed away the idea of being scared of isolation or the dark, or choosing to walk toward the forest when the ocean is the most perfectly viable option. And when he was sorted into Gryffindor, I said to myself, Well, self, you've been equally sorted into both Slytherin and Ravenclaw, and we can't have a Gryffindor married to a Slytherin, so that account must be eradicated. The decision was of course helped along as the newly anointed Roaring Lion in our relationship confirmed that I was definitely of the Ravenclaw sort: wacky but intelligent, witty but erratic.
And then we dueled.
Just yesterday, I spent two hours reading about my and Chris' moon and planet charts at the time of our birth. It was like reading a book about my soul, even the squishy bad parts that I wish no one knew. I even got Chris on board and he was enthralled. And then we proceeded to have a thirty minute discussion about how everything about our interactions and disagreements can be easily explained because of the location of Pluto and Mars on the day we were born. We also then referenced the birth charts for the rest of the evening, and I'm ninety-two percent sure it has revolutionized our relationship in ways no one could have imagined.
Today, after I arrived to school and was notified of the cancellation of class, I used the not-so-rare opportunity to swing by Chris' school to see what he was up to. I found his bike outside of the twelfth grade building, and when he noticed me, he beckoned me in. I've swung by his class a few times, most usually when a similar occurrence of class-cancelling has happened. This day, he was just beginning a lesson centered around the heroine of the 12th grade textbook, Sophea, attending her cousin's wedding in Cambodia, and then reception in London (because, you know, Sophea married a Brit.) (The textbooks were drafted and written with significant help from the British Council. Just saying.)
The students were eager to overlook the boring story of Sophea and instead asked for a discussion about marriage in America. Never ones to disappoint, I cajoled Chris into re-enacting our entire wedding day, from wake up to, ahem, sleep. From a joyful first look to a tearful walk down the aisle, culminating in a dance party and a send off of bubbles, the students were enthralled and we were asked for a repeat performance each afternoon for the next month, at 2 and 7 pm. They even said they'd pay a .25 cent admission to see it all again.
We had to turn them down, as we aren't allowed to charge money for our services, and really, that's a performance one just can't repeat on command.