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Today my friend Jessie got married. She's the math teacher on my core team at school, and an all-around terrific person. Last week, four of our little eighth-grade girls went all out to plan a bridal shower for Jessie. They have been enthralled with the progress pf her nuptial plans, as this is (for most of them) their first glimpse into one of the mysteries of adulthood. I'm sure their interest was fueled by the fairy-princess aspect of bridehood, too. Exposure to Shakespearean comedy and funny wedding scenes (Katherine and Petruchio in "The Taming of the Shrew," with Burton and La Liz) helped, too. Anyway, the Buffalo Gal (our team's history teacher) and I helped the little darlings create a bridal shower in our school's courtyard. We made toilet-paper wedding fashions, ate cheesecake, and generally had giggly fun with fifteen of our best students. (The masterminds did all the planning; we just showed up!) Jessie was so touched by their efforts that , on the last day of school,she invited the four planners to her wedding . To make it easier for their parents, the Samurai and I offered to provide transportation, if they would all gather at one girl's home. This is how we came to be tooling down the road in a vanload of highly excited teenage girls in fancy clothes and high heels this afternoon. (Think "Teen Girl Squad.") I passed around photos from the shower. I thought everyone looked darling in all the pictures, but the girls were more critical. "I hate Kayla's shoes. They're Gallas (???) and she only paid two bucks for them." "Yeah, they make her feet look big." (Kayla wears a size six. I tuck my size ten feet more firmly under my seat.) "Look at Wren's butt in those pants! She looks so eighties." (Wren is a slim little noodle of a girl. Not "eighties" at all. I squirm my eighties double-wide rump into my seat. I feel old.) Then came the wedding fantasies. "I'm getting married in a big Catholic church with lots of stained glass windows."(This from a Methodist.) " I want to get married in the wintertime, with lots of snow."(Doesn't snow much here, and when it does, we all stay home.) "I want to get married in a renovated theater from the forties. The forties are so glamorous!" (She's seen "Pearl Harbor" eight times. Loves Josh Hartnett.) Nowhere in any of this discussion does it occur to the girls that the groom might have an opinion, too. When you are thirteen, the groom is a Ken doll, a mute plastic presence at one's side. During the wedding, Mindy grows tearful as Jessie and Tom vow to love and care for one another. Libby turns to me and whispers, "He's so sincere!" Suddenly, the wedding isn't just about Jessie's beautiful dress, or how gorgeous everyone's hair is. They are in awe, seeing their beloved math teacher as a woman who loves a man, and is loved equally by him. We all dance (girls teetering) at the reception, and the girls chide me for making sure their champagne flutes contain sparkling cider. (I sniffed 'em. Eau de Apple Juice.) We take lots of pictures, and Mindy catches the bouquet! The Samurai and I take home a bunch of exhausted, murmuring girls with heads full of wedding bells and doves. I think they'll remember this day for a while--at least until the next sale at the mall. |
 
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Wedding Belles