It has been a long week of trying to teach research to freshmen, listening to the never-ending arguments about teacher responsibility, and feeling the weight of accomplishing many other things before the holidays. As I exhale, I often find some bright, shining moment in the midst of chaos. Chaos is slowly becoming a natural habitat for me as I hunt down students to turn in assignments, prepare to make parent phone calls, and do some much-dreaded grading. That’s just school chaos. It is my home chaos that makes me tired thinking about it, but it is also home chaos that brings much laughter.
Last week brought quite a few giggles. On my way home from school, I decided to take the scenic route across the Lake Murray Dam when my dashboard lit up with an incoming call from my brother. As I answered the phone, I could hear my mother in the background ranting about not being able to find something. My brother said, “Please talk to your mother. I am trying to help her, but I don’t think she is listening to me!” (Notice how she is MY mother). I asked what was going on, and his response drew a hearty laugh from me. “Your mother can’t find her teeth!” Here begins the saga of the missing teeth.
I said, “What do you mean she can’t find her teeth? She left home with them this morning!” (Understand that teeth are like an American Express card because you never leave home without it). Other questions that followed were “Why did she take the teeth out? Where would anybody put teeth? By this time, I am howling rather loudly in my car as others passing by are looking and wondering what was wrong with me. After gaining some composure, I asked my brother where he had looked for the missing teeth. He had looked in the bathroom, in the kitchen, and in the trash. I told him to search the black purse that miraculously attaches itself to my mother on any outing. He said that he had, but I thought that he hadn’t searched it as I would.
As I pulled into the driveway, I knew that my house was a three-ring circus. In one ring stood my 4’11” mother looking perplexed about her missing teeth. In the second ring stood my frustrated, annoyed, impatient brother. Of course, it became my job to stand in ring three as the voice of calmness and reason. I pictured us as a Venn diagram graphic organizer often used to help students organize their three main points of thought that intersect with a common thesis statement. (I can’t help it. That’s the English teacher in me). So what is the commonality here: teeth.
When I entered the house, my brother had a look of exasperation, and my mother was totally annoyed. I asked to see her purse. She and my brother both exclaimed, “I have looked in there!” I nodded my head and proceeded to dig into the dark abyss of the infamous black purse. Apparently, I searched deeper than anyone else because when my hand came up for air it held a set of dentures that were smiling at me. My mother snatched them happily as she headed to the bathroom to put them in her mouth. My brother rolled his eyes and shook his head as he walked toward the bedroom. And there I stood after a long day of work only with nothing more than mere satisfaction that the saga of the missing teeth had been resolved. There was no clear explanation as to why my mother had taken her teeth out and placed them in her purse. But at that moment I was reminded that even in the midst of busyness and chaos, laughter can still be found. No matter how hectic or chaotic life gets, we have to take time for the little moments, the memories, and the laughter. Be assured that this episode of the missing teeth would not be the last one!
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