This Is a Test!

High school kids have been visiting Panera the last couple of mornings. In groups of 2 or 3, notebooks and texts in hand, they entered, bought some sweet stuff, and settled down at tables.  I wondered at first if they were home school students.  In the past, groups of home schoolers have met at Panera for group presentations.  It didn’t take me long to realize that this last week of January was midterm exam week across the state, and that some of those kids, not having to be at school at that time, were probably prepping for those exams, and possibly even studying for a midterm REGENTS EXAM.

Only in New York does the word “Regents” have a special meaning.  In the other 49 states, people might think of the regents as a group of people charged with running a university.  In a monarchy, a regent is the person who takes rulership of a kingdom when the monarch is indisposed.  Only in the minds of people who spent their high school years in New York, does the word Regents immediately recall a series of tests deemed proof of proficiency in a variety of disciplines.

From the time I was the taking the exams through the first 25 years or so of my teaching, the Regents exams were proof of the effectiveness and often superiority of a high school education in New York State.  These special state exams in math, the sciences, history, English, languages and other areas were both finish line and possible prize in these races to comprehension.  Serious students wanted to earn “Regents” diplomas, maybe even “with honors.”  High Regents grades were something to be bragged about to your peers.  Low Regents grades were something to be concealed from them.  When I was teaching, one young man at Chittenango earned 100% on 8 Regents tests!  To New York high school students this is an achievement akin to climbing Everest without portable oxygen.

The Regents was a handy prod for a teacher to use on a class, especially on a hot day in May as final exams approached.  More than once I used the line, “Come on, you guys,  Let’s concentrate here.  This is going to be on the Regents.”  That generally served to bring focus to the unfocused at least for a couple more minutes.  Threatening the “Regents” carried some weight.

A few years before I retired, the Regents Exams began to change.  They were probably in need of some overhaul after all the years they had been used. The English Regents, however, wasn’t overhauled.  It was exploded.  It went from an exam that could be completed in two hours, to a 6 hour marathon that stretched over two days.  The idea was to make it a better test.  Truth be told, for the better students, it became an easier test, just one that was more exhausting to take.

Enough said about the English Regents, because it is just another symptom of the mess that testing is in all over the country.  And here in New York, we have a governor who neither respects teaching as as a profession or teachers for the important people that they are.  I wish the kids studying in Panera today all the best on their exams.  Because the way government tends to look at education now, exams are all that count.--Greg Ellstrom

Thinking About Clint Eastwood's AMERICAN SNIPER

My Panera Time isn’t always used for doing puzzles, people watching, or talking to friends. Linda and I spent some Panera Time last week talking and reading about the film the AMERICAN SNIPER, which we had just seen.   Then yesterday morning, I gave some more P-time thought to this truly thought-provoking film.  There is so much noise about it both in print and on the air, claptrap from both ends of the political spectrum. Michael Moore and his self-serving tweets.  Sarah Palin and her self-serving, politically motivated rants.  I think it needs contemplation in silence not noisy discussion.

AMERICAN SNIPER isn’t a movie you can say you enjoy.  We were very moved by it and are glad we saw it.  I don’t think it’s a movie about war as some have suggested.  Rather it’s a character study of a man who after 911 decided to enlist in the military as did many others.  He had a legitimate desire to help protect his country and countrymen.  It makes no difference if you think we were wrong in being in Iraq.  We were there.  Chris Kyle was there and was given the job of protecting his fellow soldiers on the ground by being a sniper. He was good at it and saved a lot of American lives. Let me reiterate: maybe you don’t think we had any right to be there.  But we were, and Kyle believed in what we were doing. It’s ludicrous to suggest that because he shot from concealment that he was acting as a coward.  It’s like saying that the bombardier in an aircraft is cowardly because he is thousands of feet above his target.  Chris Kyle was often in harm’s way and the weight of the deaths for which he was responsible and the specter of those comrades he felt he failed to save were burdens for him.  I think his motivation changed over the course of the movie.  At the beginning, he felt he was sniping to protect the American way of life.  As time went on, he became a sniper less concerned about the purpose behind the conflict and more concerned about protecting his friends.  By the end, he was caught in a personal/professional vendetta.  When that was settled, he could finally go home.  The scene near the end of the movie when he has just arrived in country and is sitting at a bar having a beer is particularly touching.  When his wife calls, he breaks down and tells her he is ready to come home, his need to keep returning to Iraq was gone.

A talking head on FOX News suggested, as have many others, that the popularity of AMERICAN SNIPER is the result of a mid-American, patriotic need to witness a hero.  Label him a hero if you want but it makes more sense to label him a soldier doing a terrible job, and, of course, there is something very heroic about that.  Others have suggested that the film glorifies war.  They didn’t see the movie that I saw, then.  Maybe the scenes of the Seal training would look exciting to young people because of its rigorous nature.  I can’t think of any other scenes that would make a young person want to go to war.

I guess the point I most wish to make in this post is that AMERICAN SNIPER is a film that shouldn’t be used, used by people of different political persuasions or people with agendas.  Director Clint Eastwood called his film an “apolitical character study.”  (POST STANDARD, 1/25/2015)  For me, that was the only logical way to view it.    If you haven’t seen it, I urge you to go in with the mindset that you will be following the life of a brave man with a terrible job at which he excels.  Watch and learn how that job affects him and his loved ones and eschew any political statement you may see or think you see.  Then maybe you’ll go into Panera or some other place and think about whether or not you agree with me.

Finally, I am not writing this post to serve as the opening of a debate.  This is my opinion  which I have come to quietly.  When the film ended in the big Shoppingtown theater where we saw, it ended with the audience in absolute silence as its members thought about what they had just seen.  That’s what I tried to do in writing this.--Greg Ellstrom

The Face That Launched A Thousand Pats

It’s time for a short blog about a Panera fixture no longer with us.  Lucy, our wonderful labrador, came with me to the P almost every day.  In every season, she curled up in the back seat and slept, waiting for the visits of her many Panera buddies.  

In the winter she’d curl up on her blanket, but I always left a window partially down so she could peek her head out to say hi to her friends.  Being a lab with a thick pelt, she loved the cold.  When I would work outside in the winter, Lucy would find the best snowbank to curl up in to watch.  One winter day, when Lucy was about a year old and very much a puppy, I came out of Panera to see a woman with a very angry face looking in the car at her.  Before I could ask if Lucy had done anything wrong, she turned to me and said that she was going to call the police and report whoever it was that left this dog out in the cold.  I said, “that would be me.  Let me introduce you to Lucy, a labrador who is most happy when the temperature is freezing.” I opened the door.  Lucy bounced happily over to meet the woman.  Lesson learned.

Lucy did not like warm weather an awful lot.  She liked air conditioning, so when we would park at Towne Centre in the summer, I would find a spot in the shade for her.  Sometimes, when it was too hot, she had to be left home.  This annoyed her.

Lucy befriended so many people at Panera.  Dale, both Toms, Nick, and more.  And Elizabeth, who we have lost track of, always inquired into Lucy’s health and happiness.  I remember coming out on a summer day to see a teenage girl standing by the car scratching Lucy’s ears.  I walked over and said, “This is Lucy.”  The girl looked at me, smiled, and said, “I like her so much.”  I’m not sure if she was offering in a subtle way to adopt Lucy if I didn’t want her.  I don’t think so.  Everyone liked Lucy so much.  Although I do remember a time when I was throwing frisbees to Mandy, our dog before Lucy, who was both a genius dog and an athlete.  She would sore through the air at Bolivar School yard and snatch the flying discs.  A boy, who I knew from school, came up to me one day and said, “Mr. Ellstrom, if you ever don’t want Mandy, I’ll take her.”  Pardon this diversion, but I thought it fit.

Lucy had been gone for almost two years, and I still miss her and think of her daily.  When she passed, my Panera friends were saddened and kind.  Months after the fact, they would say to me, “when I pass your car, I still always look in to see Lucy.”  They used to ask when I was going to get another dog.  Another puppy?  They’ve pretty much stopped now.  I have been unable to act on getting a new dog.  I just wasn’t ready to for months after Lucy died unexpectedly.  And now I don’t act because a dog is so demanding on an owner’s time, although I always loved that about them.  Also, traveling is so much easier when you don’t have to worry about the canine member of your family.  I would love to call up a breeder and order up a female yellow English puppy.  I watch videos of them on YouTube, sometimes.  But I don’t think I am ready to take care of a puppy anymore.  They get up so early, get into so much stuff, and remain amoral little beasts until they are a year old or so and decided to finally join up with your pack.  I’m afraid I need to take care of Linda and myself more than a puppy.  But who knows.

I’m thinking that next fall, I will find an older dog at a shelter to adopt.  A dog who likes to sleep in, is housebroken, and doesn’t feel she has to run everywhere we go.  I called that possible future dog a “she” because I have always owned females.  I suppose it’s too much to hope that I would come upon a 4 or 5 year old, female yellow English lab to adopt, although I will search the lab rescue sites that aren’t too far away.

This post is not about me, though.  It’s in memory of Lucy, pedigree name:  Lucy Lima Bean, in honor of the LL Bean catalog labs.  The sweetest natured dog I’ve ever known.  A dog who spent 8 and 1/2 years with us making people smile.  One of my friends said, “that she was the only dog he had ever met, who made you feel that you were her best friend, the first time she met you.”  I thought I might have a terrible time writing this post.  Not at all. I loved it.  Didn’t shed a tear.  Just enjoyed the sweet memories of our sweet Lucy.

This didn't turn out as short as I thought it would be.

photos: Lucy enjoying the winter and suffering in the summer.

The Benefits of a Cross Word like "Scup!"

“Bildungsroman!”  O.K., English teachers.  And anyone else.  Any of you recognize this word?  I didn’t nor did the other English teacher in our house.  It turns out that a “bildungsroman” is a term for a literary genre, that of coming of age novels like HUCK FINN or A SEPARATE PEACE or dozens and dozens more.  In all the English classes I took and taught, I never stumbled upon this particularly strange literary term.  I learned it two weeks ago doing the Sunday New York Times Crossword Puzzle.  Other words that I learned this week in the crosswords are “perdu,” an archaic term for “hidden,” “pineta,” a  planted forest of pine trees, and “scup,” an Atlantic food fish.  I have been to Cape Cod more than 100 times, I imagine, and in all the fish markets in all those towns, I never once bumped into a fish called a “scup.”  Turns out a “scup” is also referred to as a “panfish” or a “porgy.”  I thought a panfish was a fish that would fit in a cook pan.  And a “porgy,” well, I can’t imagine a fish singing, “Bess, you is my woman now!”  

This silliness is mentioned in my “Panera blog” because Panera is where I do a crossword puzzle while drinking my coffee almost every day.  Truth be told, I have been doing a crossword puzzle almost every day for at least 40 years.  I know that I was doing them in 1975, when I worked at Camp Goodwill, so that’s a clue to the duration of my pastime.  Probably people wonder why I, and a lot of other people, are addicted to these adjuncts to every newspaper’s comic section.  They do become a habit but a good one according to what I have read.  Doing crossword puzzles and such is really good for the old grey matter with an emphasis on “old” and “grey,” I suppose.  You do learn neat words, too, like “iter,” and “amah,” and “raison d’etre.”   Also, you face a daily challenge.  One that grows more difficult as the week goes on.

The Monday puzzle is always easy and each day gets more difficult until Friday which is pretty darn tough, but usually doable.  Then comes Saturday which is about impossible.  I remember completing one NY Times Saturday puzzle in all the years I have been doing them.  Then comes the SUNDAY TIMES CROSSWORD which is large and has a theme, is challenging but doable, and is my favorite puzzle of the week.

Creating puzzles is an ability that I can only imagine.  The complexity of running so many words down and across in a specific pattern is more than I can imagine.  It’s kind of like imagining infinity.  Probably not quite that hard.  Will Shortz is the NY Times Crossword editor and the most influential voice on crosswords in the world, I imagine.  He went to Indiana University back in the early 70’s when the school was allowing people to tailor make their own majors.  Shortz devised one in puzzles and gaming.  As they say, “Way cool!”  He even helped the Daily Show’s John Stewart, a crossword lover, devise a puzzle with which to propose to his wife.

Without doing puzzles, you have probably never noticed that each grid is not only a super accomplishment because of the intermingling of words but because of the shape, too.  To qualify as a puzzle worth publication, the opposite side of a grid along both x and y axis is the opposite mirror image of the other.  Check out the grid below and see of what I speak.

That is the down and across, the short and long, of this post on “Panera 13066," the place where I go daily to do the daily crossword.  Linda has a pile of crossword books, (edited by Will Shortz) as she took up puzzling when she retired.  She’s addicted, also.  For us, somehow, they never get old.  And we always do them in pen--Greg Ellstrom

"Space Invaders"

A couple of days ago, I was at one of the two tables I generally occupy from about 9:30 to 10:30 most mornings at the Panera in Fayetteville Towne Centre.  Two ladies were sitting in the armchairs by the fireplace, which were about 15 feet from me.  They seemed to be talking about something both earnestly and in a subdued fashion.  I was hard at work on my puzzle when a man came clomping in the front door and immediately clomped over to a table right next to the ladies and hung his coat on the chair.  Any chance of privacy for their conversation was gone.  The chair this guy chose is maybe 3 feet away.  They would have needed to start using American Sign Language to prevent him from hearing every word.  The ladies looked at each other and shrugged.  They might have rolled their eyes a bit, but I couldn’t swear to that.  As soon as the man clomped off to get coffee, the ladies picked their drinks up and went off to another location to continue their earnest discussion.  I had just been witness to a case of “Space Invaders!”

I apologize to anyone who thought this was going to be a post about old video games.  A “space invader” in my coffee shop talk is a person who sits at a table right next to yours when there are plenty of others available.  I have to say that I am not offended by anyone who plops down right next to me.  I don’t care.  I’m not doing anything for my eyes only.  But I know this bothers other people.  Some people believe “space invading” is a character flaw and can’t imagine how anyone could be so crass as to practice it.  Even though those who are offended may not be discussing anything covert, they can’t stand anyone sitting too close.  For them, it’s like when a person gets too close to you at a cocktail party, and you just want to say, “take a step back, buddy, please!”

There is another kind of coffee shop “space invasion” that annoys some people.  We are all creatures of habit.  It’s the “always sit in the same place at church” syndrome.  The Panera regulars are only human, and when one of us arrives to see our regular table occupied. . .by a stranger. . .well, it can throw off your whole day.  In fact, I wasn’t going to mention this, but the two ladies I talked about earlier were sitting in Terry’s chairs.  He always sits in one of them, and they prevented him from sitting there that day.  So some will think that the arrival of the “clomping man” was karma.  Me?  I don’t think that’s true.  Well. . .maybe.

Greg Ellstrom

Hail, Hail the Gang's. . .

It took me awhile to figure how to introduce my fellow regulars at Panera Bakery in Town Centre.  I wanted a creative way, not just a list.  I thought I might base this blog on “The Canterbury Tales” pilgrims, but then everyone would have to have a story.  I thought some more, and my mind went back to a place where we all have been--a high school cafeteria.  A school cafeteria contains a food line, a lot of tables, and a variety of personalities.  That’s what a Panera contains, too.

If you walk in the front door of Panera, you will often find me sitting by myself at a table to your right.  I could be labeled the lonely kid, sadly sitting by himself, reading his newspaper.  I’m not lonely.  I’m perfectly happy and often contemplative.  The lonely kids in high school might be thinking about their English essays.  I might be thinking about something to blog.  And if you come in and see me squinting, it’s not to be nerdy, it’s because the sunshine coming in the front doors makes it hard to see just who you are.

I am only the lonely kid for part of the time.  Sometimes, I’m half of a couple who are sweet on each other and who take their trays to a spot at a table in the high school caf. where they can sit alone, make eyes at each other, and play footsie.  When Linda comes with me we are like that couple. . .a little bit.  We usually sit at a table that Linda chooses, and I sit at the chair that Linda doesn’t want.  What follows does not include eye-making or footsie.  We both read the paper.  We also talk to each other, read each other news items, watch people together, and sometimes laugh.  We are not the only sweethearts at Panera.  There are several regular pairs, including Nick and Mary, a wonderful couple, always together.  They should be the senior homecoming king and queen of this high school cafeteria/Panera.

Across the aisle from my usual seat, sit the largest group of regulars at the P.  This group is almost always all guys.  Sometimes a dozen or more.  They can be a little noisy, often talk sports, occasionally tell a dirty joke that can be heard farther than intended, make fun of each other, and peek furtively at the pretty girls that pass them by.  For these reasons, I think we should call them the “jock table.”  Many of them are retired teachers, ex-coaches, one time athletes, including some of acclaim in the Syracuse area.  They sort of practice the camaraderie they used to observe and correct when they had cafeteria duty.  They are terrific guys, though, without the nasty attitudes that are sometimes apparent at tables of jocks.  And they never have food fights!

Sitting at the jock table, but operating throughout the restaurant, is Tom, the de facto Mayor of Panera’s.   Smiling, shaking hands, patting people on the back, and smooching cheeks, Tom works the room everyday.  Little kids coming in with their parents look for Tom, knowing he will make a fuss over them.  The best way to refer to Tom in our high school cafeteria analogy is as the benevolent President of the Student Council, at home with the jocks, the musicians, and the peons as well.

A bevy of business students, often slurping coffee, also occupy tables in this analogy.  If they were in high school, they would be taking “Entrepeneurship” or “Business Skills.”  They spend hours at their tables, eyes glued to their computers.  Some forget to eat in this cafeteria.  Some are there for the Wifi not the dark roast.  From my nerd table, I sometimes wonder just what it is they do to make their livings in a restaurant on computer.  One, I know, who does business there is a wedding planner.  It’s fun to see the brides and grooms-to-be or the brides and their moms poring over the photos of flowers and the samples of invitations.  I have a feeling the brides get the final decisions, with the mom’s assistance.  When planning a wedding, I think that the guy is just another accessory.

I think this is enough Panera denizens for today’s post.  Some later time, I’ll write about the interesting visits by study groups of kids being home schooled. . . or maybe about the occasional invasions of the tweens.

All's Right With the World

A couple of days before Christmas I was sitting at Panera Bread in Fayetteville, at one of the tables where I usually sit, and working on my crossword puzzle. One of the regulars, a lady who I have been acquainted with for several years and whose name has somehow slipped away, came up to me and said, “It’s so nice seeing you sitting here working on your puzzle. It just makes me feel that all is right with the world.” I said, “Thank you,” and she went on her way.Well. . .I was very pleased by her saying this, but I didn’t know why she would have said it. I couldn’t figure just why I, sitting at my table, would have had such a calming effect on this very nice lady. I thought about it a bit, but nothing came to me, so I put it aside, figuring that I could write about it later and give it some thought, then.It’s taken me about ten days to come to the time to write. I’m still not sure why she said what she said. Maybe, I have a calming effect on people, sort of a human sedative action. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I remember one time back when I was teaching when I met the mother of one of my students in the counseling center. She and her family, a family I knew well, were going through a health-related difficulty at the time, which eventually resolved itself. I talked with her for a moment, wished her well, and went on to do what I was there to do. The next day I was told, by whom I can’t remember, that the mother said that after talking to Mr. Ellstrom, she felt like “everything would work out all right.” Hearing that I had that effect felt special and good. But I wondered why.Maybe it comes down to the fact that people like to feel they are living a life in which they can count on things to be as they expect them to be, that there is comfort in the presence of the anticipated. I am an anticipated person for the regulars at Panera Bread in the morning. Is there comfort in the regularity of me being there? I don’t know. I was a fixture at the high school for a heck of a long time. Maybe my length of service and even disposition (?) could have been comforting. I don’t know again.For whatever reason she said it, the lady’s comment has given an idea for not one but two Panera blogs. I think next I will right a paean to the regulars, those daily denizens of Panera Bread at Towne Centre, whose presences can be anticipated.

Getting Started

I was a little late to arrive at Panera today. I had an ENT appointment, one of those medical mornings, which seem to happen more often as you get older. I sat and began to read USA TODAY, when my people-watching eyes were drawn to one of the tiny people. A little girl, about 2, I imagine, was there with her mom and grandparents. She was thrilled to be there! She had on her princess skirt and her big girl boots. Almost immediately, she started dancing to a tune that no one else could hear. Then she bounced along with her Grandma to get in line for goodies. A moment later she came bouncing back with a menu for her mom, which her mom accepted pleasantly, although, she clearly didn't need it. This little one alone would have made people watching fun, but then entered a mom and dad with their toddler. Probably 8 or 9 months old, she was as delighted with life and with Panera as the other little customer. Seated in a high chair, her tiny head covered with thick dark hair, she checked out the place. Then she started to check her own hands, wiggling her fingers, and smiling happily at what they were able to do. She looked around and smiled at me. We waved at each other. It also was great observing the joy and pride the young parents had in their miracle, her mom asking her if "she could say, 'Hi'" as well as wave. Then another nice thing happened. the eyes of the two little ones met. Anyone could see that each was intrigued with the other, prompted probably by their shared smallness and newness. The bigger little one thought a couple of times about going across to the table to visit but couldn't quite summon the courage. And the little little one was fascinated just watching this bigger version of a kid. I went back to my paper, wondering if they would meet. They hadn't by the time I left. I hope they eventually did.