I wore new pants to school today. These weren’t just any old pants, but were the proof of a bit of victory for me. I bought the new pants, capris to be exact, right before school started. At that time, they were a schooch too tight and did not flatter my –ahem– assets the way a good pair of pants should. I put them on today in that “oh man, I wanted to pull out of the garage in precisely 37 seconds and I am still in my undies and one earring” panic. By some miracle of swimming lengths and eating veggies, the snazzy capris fit. Cue the pompous music reserved for triumphs, please: extra tuba.

Traffic was remarkably smooth this morning. The lights were green, the other drivers used their signal lights and no one cut me off or ran the yellow when I was waiting to turn left. There are two rather terrifying left turns on my trip to school, so this is big news.

I pranced through the halls today. My lunchtime supervision went more smoothly than usual: I think the kids didn’t mess with me because they noticed the confident strut brought about by my awesome new pants and decided I was a person who meant business. Actually, I mean business every day, but today I didn’t even really have to say anything and the kids kept themselves in line. Who knew the secret to easy grade 7-12 supervision is a pair of stretchy short pants with flowers embroidered on the butt pockets and wide bottom cuffs?

By 3:20, when the kids were piling their stuff into their backpacks and heading out (prepared to study diligently for my classes, I’m sure) I was convinced the frictionless serenity of my Wednesday came directly from the fact that I was wearing my new pants. New pants, you’ll remember, that I trimmed up enough to wear comfortably. What a magical, marvelous day.

At 3:22, I met up with my department head to go over some essays from a course I’m teaching for the first time this semester. It’s critical to make sure I’m aligned with the government’s expectations, and what’s going on around the district, to get these kiddos ready for their diploma exams in January, so we meet like this often. Even the wee meeting went well, and a concept I didn’t particularly grasp earlier in the day buzzed into place like the answer of an eager Jeopardy contestant. I’ll take one fabulous day for eight hundred, please Alex. What, the Daily Double? Rock on.

As I said goodnight and left my colleague’s room, she caught me and said, “Hang on there, Kay.” Then she reached out and grabbed the waistband of my fabulous new pants. I prepared myself to explain to her how my snazzy capris suddenly fit, and what a bargain I got when I found them on sale in August.

That’s when she ripped the store tag off my awesome new pants.

Some days it’s surprising I don’t slip and fall in the icy patches forming around my super-cool self.

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