Once Were Mustangs . . .

This entry is a month overdue; if it were a pregnancy, the fetus would be ordering cable by now.  I’m sorry. I’ve been busy raisin’ my younguns. They’re still not growed yet neither, and the whole thing is turning out to be a rather involved project, not extremely conducive to writing blog entries, or watching entire Giants games online, or eating bonbons off my stomach or giving myself pedicures or any of the things I’d be doing if I had the time. That’s just life in the slow lane, I guess.

I had a few days' worth of life in the fast lane last month in San Francisco, a whirlwind of power-visiting my former life.  Some months back I got a packet of very sweet notes and photos from my former students at Capuchino High (sure, go ahead, take your best shot with the coffee jokes. "Are you gonna play Latte in the big game? I hope you foam 'em this year!" But I warn you, I've heard them.) Anyway, the students were all asking if I remembered that when I left for China nearly two years ago, I said I’d come back for the graduation of the class of 2012. Who knew they’d remember such a thing? But after talking it over with my incredibly supportive wife and checking for cheap airfare, I decided to actually do it. It was a great chance to visit friends, connect with a big part of my life that I’ve been missing, and buy massive amounts of American products – important things like Junior Mints and blackboard paint that you just can’t get in China. Allison also took the opportunity to order a couple of items online, so I could bring them back:

So yeah, I was basically working as a mule for the cartel. But back to our story.

It’s hard to describe just how touching and poignant it was to see these kids after two years, not really kids anymore, on the verge of spreading their wings and flying away to places even they know not of... I felt incredibly lucky to see them before their great diaspora. It was a moment that will never come again – and of course every moment is like that, though they sail past us unrecognized – but this was one of the moments when you could actually feel time as it courses on its unceasing way.  My whole goal as a teacher was always just to be a part of moving people incrementally forward toward were they want to be. Seeing this group set off for their next steps made me feel a little bit like I’d done something like that.  It was almost unfair, too, to get two years’ worth of appreciation, distilled into two days, with none of the stacks of essays, the planning, the meetings, conferences and paperwork that come with the job. 

I went to the campus for graduation rehearsal, walked to the football field where the senior class was filling the bleachers, and the minute I looked at them I knew I did the right thing in coming. There was a core group of about 75 of these students I’d taught for two years, from 2008 to 2010, and this was my last group moving through Cap; it was a special feeling to see them all again after that long two-year break. These were the little Freshies I had taught to sit upright and hold a pencil just ten minutes ago, it seemed, and now they would be taking off for Berkeley, UCLA, the University of the College of San Mateo, Starbucks, you name it. Also, in case I needed any more proof that God loves me and wants me to be happy, here it is:  my old colleagues plugged me into the graduation rehearsal, having me play the role of the board member who, during the actual ceremony the next day, would hand them their diplomas and shake their hands, what we called the “shake and take.”  So, I got to have a moment to say hello to every single graduate, hug them, tell them it was good to see them – and because of the nature of graduation practice, as each one approached me, I got to hear his or her name read aloud, as if from heaven itself.  Now, I’m confident that I would know the names of nearly all of them readily anyway, even after two years away, despite the fact that it’s possible for me to mix up the names of my own children. And, given more than an instant, I am sure my batting average would be 1.000. And yet, if you only have an instant, and you’re jet-lagged, and have a mild case of obliviousness anyway, well, wow, batting 1.000 is a pretty high standard, and I would hate to unintentionally hurt anyone’s feelings by groping for a name and saying “Yes! It’s great to see . . . yooouu, too!” There would be exactly one moment in the course of an entire school year when I could have every student’s name read for me as they approached me, and I walked right into it. Thank you, universe! I love you, too.

After rehearsal I was able to visit with some of the students, sign yearbooks and get sunburned to a crackling red shade in the blazing sun of San Bruno – which is why I’m wearing that oh-so-stylish visor in the graduation pictures from the next day. I don’t care. It was well worth it. Thank you, thank you to my former students and erstwhile colleagues at Capuchino. No matter where I wander, I will always be a Mustang in my heart.

Here's a small, representative sampling of pics from day:

I'll put up some more pics on another site that I won't mention by name, but it rhymes with shmacebook.

San Francisco looked just unspeakably lovely to me – with my jet-lag I was up and running crazy early, just me and a few homeless people hanging out together on the streets before sunrise, and I could feel every curve and ripple of the hills in Bernal Heights and Dolores Street and the Panhandle and Golden Gate Park. I set a brisk visiting pace, stayed with different friends each night for four nights, pumped a small fortune into the local economy, hit a Giants game,

had dinner at my old stomping grounds of Trattoria Contadina in North Beach, and generally had a blast. Special thanks to Marija, Jim G., Erik and Anastasia, Sally, Patty, and Ian, Justine and Lance, Alice and Jamie, Jane L., Russ and Jim, Gina and Kevin and everyone at TC, Mayor Ed Lee, and the population at large! For everyone I didn’t get to see this time . . . I’ll be back. We’ll be back. Soon . . .

We had a great, short visit to Hong Kong, another blast-from-the-past visit that deserves its own blog post, but regrettably won’t get one. If one picture is really worth a thousand words, though, here are three thousand words on the subject:

 Now, back in Shanghai, we’re well into the thick of the hot and humid summer. Kai’s school ended the year with a rockin’ concert where he and his classmates performed “The Captain Planet Theme Song,” and “Oats, Peas, Bean and Barley Grow.” Here he is as the element Water (Yes, Kai is the little guy. I was the smallest person in my class every year until high school, too):

And, with his Mommy and his teacher Miss Maris at the after-party:

We're almost out of time for today's episode, but we here at Shanghai Daddy would certainly be remiss if we did not mention that we now have a 4-YEAR-OLD! Here's the evidence:

 And now, gratuitous pictures of cute people to take us out. Check out the boys as superheroes, and in their (monogrammed -- oh yes, monogrammed) shark towels.  Hit the link to Youtube if you want to see 50 seconds' worth of them singing their shark song and doing their shark impressions.

I hope this finds you well, and happy – let me know.