An Invigilating Experience

May 22, 2016 – An Invigilating Experience

This week, I had a truly invigilating experience:  I invigilated.  In fact, I invigilated two mornings in a row – in the upstairs gym at Annandale High School.  For those of you who speak British English, this may not sound unusual.  Yet for Americans, invigilating sounds rather, ummm, X-rated and possibly illegal.  I was unfamiliar with the term although it turns out that I’d been invigilating for years without even knowing it!  It was only when I volunteered to help with the International Baccalaureate exams at my old high school that I encountered the word.  

You’ve probably guessed the meaning of invigilate by now.  Still, why couldn’t the Brits and the IB program use the perfectly respectable and easily understood English word “proctor?”  Of course, invigilate sounds infinitely more impressive.

As for the actual invigilation, I must say that it ranks dismally low on the scale of interesting activities.  While invigilating, I handed out tests and answer booklets, cleaned desks between tests with disinfecting wipes, and offered pens, pencils and tissues to test takers.  But mostly, I paced, and paced, and paced the upstairs gym for up to two hours at a time.  My main source of excitement was escorting a student to the restroom.  Of course, during the exam, I was not allowed to engage in reading.  There were professional invigilator standards to uphold! 

Although IB exams ended last week, my invigilating days aren’t over yet.  Another round of Virginia’s state-mandated Standards of Learning tests begins this coming week and I’ve volunteered to help.  Therefore, I must get to bed early tonight so I’ll be ready to transform myself at 8 a.m. tomorrow into The Invigilator. 

Back from the Beach

May 15, 2016 – Back from the Beach

 

Shells and coral from Hillsboro beach in one of my fused glass dishes

It was great to sleep in my own bed again last night, but when I woke up this morning, I missed the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.  You see, I just returned from a five-day beach vacation in Florida.  Many thanks to my long-time friend Milli, who offered the use of her beachfront home in Hillsboro Beach on the Atlantic coast.  I’d never before been tempted to take a beach vacation (the thought of spending an entire day at the beach frankly sounds like torture to me), but this little getaway proved to be just what I needed.  I discovered how soothing it can be to walk in the surf or even sit on the sand, listening to the constant crash of the waves.  In a sense, it’s a meditative experience.

An afternoon stroll in Delray Beach with Milli (photo by Gale)

Growing up on Long Island, days at the beach were part of every childhood summer.  However, I never fully appreciated the beach before.  After I went off to college, my visits to the beach became much less frequent.  Even when we lived in the South of France, less than half an hour from the sea, neither Elliott nor I had a strong desire to go to the beach.  I only recall going to French beaches half a dozen times in four years.  Among my memories are the smooth stones on the beach at Nice, the wide stretch of sand in Cannes, and best of all, the miniature seashells strewn over the tiny beach near the Vieux Port in Antibes.  And while the Mediterranean was lovely, it lacked the Atlantic’s dramatic presence. 

On this Florida trip, without a rigid schedule to follow, I was able to take long walks on the beach early in the morning and then again around sunset.  Since I didn’t spend all day at the beach, I also had time to explore various sights along the coast.  In Fort Lauderdale, the BonnetHouse provides a fascinating glimpse of “old” Florida, and the NSU Art Museum has the world’s largest collection of the paintings by American artist William Glackens.  Delray Beach’s Atlantic Avenue features unique shops and restaurants.  In addition, I found time to catch up with my old friend Gale at lunch overlooking the intra-coastal waterway and with some relatives (former New Yorkers) at an early bird dinner. 

Walking on Hillsboro beach with a night heron for company

The Bonnet House in Fort Lauderdale

While I was away, I thought of Elliott a lot.  We had made a couple of trips together to Florida during his final years.  This time, when I spotted a macaron bakery in Delray Beach, he immediately came to mind.  Which flavor would he choose, I wondered.  I also knew he would have enjoyed the delicious grouper I had for dinner at Oceans 234 in Deerfield Beach and the lemon-coconut muffin that came with my lunch salad at The Tin Muffin in Boca Raton.  We could have sat side by side on the bench facing the ocean outside Milli’s building.  In fact, Elliott is still very much a presence in my life, whether I’m at home or away from home.  Recently, on Mother’s Day, when Matt asked me where I wanted to go for dinner, I automatically answered, Red Hot and Blue, because the local barbecue restaurant was one of Elliott’s favorites and we often went there to celebrate Father’s Day. 

It’s been two and half months, and I miss him terribly.  Now that I’m back home, I want to tell him all about my trip.  I’m almost like a child with an imaginary friend. I still talk to him, sometimes silently, and sometimes out loud.  I don’t think that will ever change.