This morning, instead of teaching, I went out to sit in the woods for a couple of hours. I had a perfect morning for it - cool and bright. Thin tall trees are getting just enough green on them to create the illusion of impenetrable depths, shadowy entrails of wilderness. And up near the top the light green crowns of these same trees push into the perfect blue sky. You know how it is - that joy to look up. Down below, up from the dirt, this dark green stuff is popping up - some kind of shady groundcover that I'd curse as a weed and pull from a tamer garden. For a brief moment I get to hear the native woody noises of slight breeze, tiny birdsong, squirrelstep.

But briefly. I am not alone. In fact, it's time to strip the sylvan facade from this piece and get down to the facts. I'm sitting behind a folding table with two colleagues at Checkpoint 5 on the grounds of St. Mary of the Lake Seminary here in Mundelein. We stamp the cards of walkers and runners as they offer them as they pass - lap 1, lap 2. This is a 10k walk/run for the school, our Spring fundraiser ... and a pretty good excuse to abandon the classroom, breathe deeply, and attend to the larger world for a couple of hours.

The fresh air and cool blue sunshine seem to be working their magic on us all. The students are universally friendly and polite (eight out of ten blurt "thanks!" when I stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp their cards). The runners arrive breathing hard, singly or in pairs; but the walkers descend in uneven lumps of friendship and casual association. Some of them know me. I wouldn't know them in the large groups because I am so intent on stamping stamping the cards they lay before me. I look up to smile and laugh and comment when they call my name.

Yesterday we distributed more than 1300 Carmel Walkathon 2001 t-shirts, uniformly white and imprinted with the year's official artwork. This morning we find a wide array of (sometimes) amazingly customized versions of that shirt. The most impressive have been painstakingly tie-dyed overnight. Others offer the last minute grafitti of permanent markers.

We're all done by 11.

So much for this Thoreauvian interlude. I get home, grab some lunch, check the mail, and head out (coupons in hand - sale at Parson, Wearie, & Clot) to capture a new sportscoat. I hate hate hate hate buying clothes any more formal than a t-shirt, so an expedition of this sort requires a quick decision to act and get it over with. Mission accomplished. I now own a blue sportscoat of some kind which will allow me to attend The Prom next weekend without making a bummed out, lowlife spectacle of myself. It's just not fair. This is my first prom in perhaps 15 years. I would not be going if I were not required to do so by my function as a junior homeroom moderator. Well, that's a week from today. Stay tuned.