Bits and Bobs and Bedtime

In England, "bits and bobs" describes an assortment of things. For me the phrase conjures the image of spools of thread rolling higgledy-piggledy across a kitchen table, then being swept into a neat little basket.

I tried to tell my ninth graders that a good way to organize their folders is to have one divider labeled, "Miscellaneous," a word which of course they couldn't spell, and of which they didn't know the meaning. After I explained that "miscellaneous" could refer to a variety, a mishmash, a hodgepodge, or a gallimaufry of items or ideas, a thatchy-haired boy in the front piped up,

"Can we just label it 'bits and bobs'?"
I paused. "You can label it whatever you like, as long as it makes sense to you." Bits and bobs, I thought. Well, it does make sense. Plus it's shorter, easier to remember, and more fun to say. Knock yourself out, kid. Less is more.

When I was putting the girls of my boarding-house to bed, the youngest ones attempted to distract me from turning the lights out by telling me to See certain things.

See that I'm almost finished getting ready, I just need a glass of water?

See how big my hair gets when I brush it?

See how I have to put away my dance-lesson bag before I can clean my teeth, which means I'm trying to go to bed, I just can't yet, but before I do, see how I can flop onto the bed like a penguin?

And of course, they all have to try and flop on the bed like a penguin.

But once they're actually in bed, my hand pauses at the light switch as one of them asks me what my "other names" are. I tell them.

"Sarah Kate," she repeats, smiling. "So American." And then, "Can we call you "Miss"?"

They know so little about me (my name, nationality, and that's about it), and now they call me even less.

I hope that, here too, less is more.