a reason to celebrate

"I believe Ms. P can make a cake, and it's pretty good." This the final pronouncement.

"I should make you write that on the board," I retort. 500 times, I think, half-seriously.

If she only knew. Maybe someday I'll tell her the story of having to re-make half the batter for an excess of flour and how this shortcake was probably a wee bit shorter than it could have been for all the dumping out and re-mixing after I nearly forgot the sugar (sick and tired and baking at midnight is not exactly conducive). But since proving that I could do it was as much my purpose as pleasing the Seniors, for now we'll stick with, "I believe Ms. P can make a cake, and it's pretty good."

As were the tamales and japchae, tostadas and nian gao, pizza and sushi and very very very very hot wings (our no-longer-so-new Brazilian friend may never recover from one, but his new girlfriend made it through five on a dare) and everything else that covered that table. Perhaps some things that go on in my classroom can be questioned, but our ability to celebrate? Never. Instead we acknowledged our graduates by eating well and giving gifts and listening to music and taking dozens and dozens of pictures.

"Now that was a party," said one of the Seniors, at the end.

"Not bad for 7th block," I concurred. And finally it feels like Spring: even the sun came out to join us for the afternoon, not that I have a window. Or a window into the future, either, to forsee how many of those above wannabe Top Models will be around in three years when their class puts their hands out for their diplomas. Life is too unpredictable; I know too much to assume.

For one might follow through with a vow to quit in December, the minute of turning sixteen, despite being the smartest of the bunch. One might really flee to an uncle in California and leave notebooks full of despair behind. Two will graduate from somewhere, absolutely, guaranteed. Unless the unthinkable happens, as sometimes, we know, it does. And one will just think she's playing until she wakes up and realizes she's decided something about her life, or not, and that it's just happened and now what. Regardless, I will be here. For whoever is left and whoever in their stead walks through that heavy door. Doing what I do, doing what I can. Trying to make a difference. Glad to have a part. So sure if, come 2011, they want me to, or if they again kinda dare me, I'll absolutely bake a cake.