A really good day yesterday. I spent a chunk of it participating in a lively and interesting panel on poetry and education, and then I got to hang out with a handful of Maine teacher- and poet-friends whom I like a whole lot. Then I drove home through the sunshine and the wind, and then Tom and I drove north to our son's high school for the International Students Dinner and accompanying high school rock show.

Basically this was a day that reminded me of why I love teenagers so much. I spent the morning with teachers who are devoted to them, and then I stood around in a sloppy school gym spooning up tepid miso soup and listening to kids perform covers of Guns and Roses hits, and everyone was so happy! All the performers' friends danced and swayed and cheered and climbed on each others shoulders and waved their phones in the air. The singers bounced here and there, imitating rock-star posturing with 15-year-old insouciance and joy. My son, beaming, was sharp and accurate and dramatic in his debut as a drummer. He even snapped a drumstick in the middle of a song, which for some reason thrilled him to no end. ("Mom! I'm keeping this broken stick forever!") The sound system was a terrible muffled mess. Tom and I laughed and laughed and cheered and cheered. We had the best time watching all this goofiness, and so did the teachers and the janitors and the lunch ladies and the other parents. What a lovely, silly evening.