I kind of can't believe Maurice is back on the road. After several overhauls by the students at PATHS, overseen by Vince Olsen. Vince just opened up a new service station on Cottage Road in South Portland, across from Red's Dairy Freeze. He's amazing. Tell him Maurice Cavalier sent you!

Here are pics of Maurice with his new flames!

After our trip to DC my bandmates were really leaning on me to finally do the TML site. We've been "coming soon" for almost a year? Something like that. Ugh. Anyway, I finally did it a few weeks ago. Woo!

Reminder to Self:

All students do not learn the same way. I know, know, know this. But I still struggle with the kids that just want me to show them an example so they can see how to do it. No, it's not that--I never mind doing that. I mind giving them an example that IS exactly what they need to do, so they can copy it. Which is what some of them want. And what some of them need.

Also, what a lot of them need is me to sit next to them the whole time, helping them along so that they don't get discouraged or distracted. And there's only one of me. The other thing they need is 3-5 years of preparation for this class (such as: knowing how to do fractions). But somehow they've gotten to high school without this. Sometimes this job drives me crazy.

I dropped E. at her composition lesson on 23rd St. and then went for a walk towards 5th Ave. New York City, 5th Ave., land of shopping...pretty much Hell for someone like me who avoids shopping whenever possible. I sat down in Madison Square Park instead, on a tiny piece of dry bench amid enthusiastic lawn sprinklers.

Several baby strollers later, a man rolled by in a wheelchair. He stopped directly across from me and we looked at each other for a bit as people passed between us. He was lurching with his left hand and I guessed that he had CP and was trying to pull out a communication board, so I got up and went over to look at it. We talked for a while. It was slow going since his board just had the alphabet on it. I could understand a little when he spoke, but it was such an effort for him that I was glad he went back to using the board.

I slept pretty well this week, but not that night. Since the moment I shook his hand and left to go meet E. for dinner, I have been seeing those spelled words: "I have feelings." "I can think." "I am sad." Does he talk to people much? "No." I told him why I know a little bit of what it's like to feel trapped in your own body, and how hard it is sometimes to get people to understand that your mind works even if your body doesn't. We watched the park for a while.

I have his name and address (on his board...as I spelled it into my cell phone, I felt our roles reverse for an instant). He doesn't have e-mail, so I am sending him a letter. Now I am mentally thanking my 4th grade teacher for bringing in her friend with CP every week to help us with our assignments. Because of that, I knew what the board on his lap was for, from across the way. And I'm mentally thanking him for rolling by, and for stopping, because it reminds me that 20 minutes can be very full of life.