Author: Susan Knoppow

Orchard Lake Middle School

~ Susan Knoppow ~ 2 Comments

One peek into the cafeteria was all it took.

I could see us – five or six eighth grade girls huddled around a lunch table, frantically finishing our algebra homework for Mr. Robinson’s class. His system wasn’t fair – we were graded on correct answers, not effort – so every equation had to be solved perfectly.

Marge, the lunch lady, is yelling at someone, calling her “Ladybug,” or some other odd endearment. Rochelle is generously sharing her homework while simultaneously combining lunch leftovers into some vile new concoction. Continue reading →

Favorites

~ Susan Knoppow ~ 2 Comments

My children want to know about my favorites. What’s your favorite color? Your favorite food? Favorite place? What was your favorite part of the summer? The movie? The book?

Do you like blue best? Green? Chocolate? Pizza? Jazz?

My answers never satisfy. I don’t have a favorite. I am not being coy.

At our wedding, we danced a clumsy foxtrot to Van Morrison’s Moondance, not because we loved it best, but because Buster Poindexter’s growling take on Castle in Spain would not have been appropriate; nor Love Cats or anything by Tom Waits. Continue reading →

Visiting Teacher

~ Susan Knoppow ~ 3 Comments

The students were not cooperating.

Here I was, a real live writer, swooping in with pearls of wisdom while their hardworking English teacher was out of town celebrating the birth of her first grandchild.

Every day they entered the classroom with the same two questions: “What is the baby’s name?” and “Does today’s assignment count?”

I didn’t know the baby’s name. But of course our work together counted! This was real live education — fresh and relevant and ready for the world. Or at least that was my take on it. Continue reading →

Pesach Prep

~ Susan Knoppow ~ 5 Comments

The Pesach cook must also be part plumber… and magician… and archivist.

Magician to prepare an entire week’s worth of meals from scratch. Even the most accomplished chef sometimes reaches for the Trader Joe’s crunchy tilapia. But not this week.

Archivist because the seder wouldn’t be the same without the exact apple kugel we eat every year. And three kinds of charoset. And one green vegetable. And apricot squares. How many preschool afikomen holders can one family use? How many cups for Elijah? How many decorative seder plates? We have them all, ready to adorn the seder table yet again.

Plumber for when the cook (that would be me) stuffs too many carrot peels down the garbage disposal. You know how the water makes a whirlpool in the sink but doesn’t go anywhere? Continue reading →

One Thing at a Time

~ Susan Knoppow ~ 1 Comment

My six-year-old walked into the kitchen with a box of dominoes in both hands, the cordless phone cradled between left ear and shoulder.

“I love you, too, Daddy. Here’s Sammy,” he said as he navigated the dog gate and handed the phone to his brother.

Like mother like son, I suppose. And I laughed; but I also stopped short. I am trying to re-learn to do one thing at a time. For an inveterate  multi-tasker, this can be painful. Continue reading →

Google Brain

~ Susan Knoppow ~ 2 Comments

I need Google Desktop for my brain. Imagine the possibilities.

Can’t find the receipt for the laundry basket you need to return to Target? Just enter “basket receipt” in the little search box and you’re good to go.

Missing permission slip? Lemon cookie recipe? Green striped sock? Google it.

When does the dog license expire?

Which of your son’s t-shirts needs to be replaced after that unfortunate run-in with the fruit punch?

Was your grandmother smiling the last time she squeezed orange juice for you in the yellow Oak Park kitchen?

Were you?

Don’t you wish you could look it up?

Refrigerator Dreams

~ Susan Knoppow ~ Leave a comment

I hate my refrigerator.

The big black side-by-side is narrow and impossible to organize. Containers of caramelized onions and half bottles of ketchup disappear in its depths. This evening my middle son tried to shove his lunchbox between a carton of eggs and the leftover risotto. He stepped back to gain some leverage, eyed his target and aimed deep. I stopped him before he could topple the applesauce. “Put it in the basement,” I said. Continue reading →