Cheeseburger in Paradise

I ate dinner tonight with a girl I went to junior high school with. It's the lovely part of Facebook: you reconnect with people you haven't talked to in sixteen years. And then you think about the fact that you were sixteen years old fifteen years ago, just a hair younger than the students you're currently teaching. And then you feel kind of old. 

But, dinner was fun. Jen (formerly Jenni) and I met at a restaurant in Algonquin, which is close to her house and on my way home from school, called Cheeseburger in Paradise. As you might have guessed, it's a beachy Jimmy Buffety themed place that specializes in burgers (though the menu was quite extensive). They also had fried pickles. I'll repeat that. They also had fried pickles. Of course, Jen and I couldn't resist ordering them, and we were pleasantly surprised at their deliciousness. I mean, they were really, really good. The burgers were good, too, and the coleslaw had golden raisins (!yahoo!), which is a major turn-off for some, but it's high up on my list of coleslaw "do's" so I was thrilled. 

In addition to the food, Jen and I got to catch up, which was so nice. I don't keep in touch with anyone from the "olden days" (as my students would call the Eighties. I'm not kidding.), so we swapped some stories and then she filled me in on what's been going on so far this decade. She's married, teaching high school English at Maine West (West is Best!), and raising a little boy named Nate (whose picture I've seen--he's a totally adorable peanut head.). She lives in one of the towns I drive through on my way to work (one of a dozen), so we're planning to get together frequently. 

And that was the night. I'm currently writing this to put off doing a lesson plan on writing poetry, and I should probably finish it up so I'm prepared for tomorrow afternoon's class. Poetry is something that still confounds me, and I'm finding it a bit difficult to teach. Fiction, no problem. Creative non-fiction, super. Poetry. Huhflawwh? Before the semester started, I went through a few of my old poetry journals to get inspired, but it only made me realize what kind of themes I'd be likely to see from my own college freshmen: parties, broken hearts, teenage angst, post-teenage angst (totally like, much deeper than, like, regular teenage angst), sneakers, and sex (wanting it, not getting it). I'm hoping that this first assignment my students wrote, using any piece of art from campus that they choose, will elicit more interesting fare. 

So, here's to hope! Have a good night, true believers.