A fall, a whoopie pie, and the art critic dog - lessons from a birthday.

I am used to birthdays announced in assemblies, used to shout outs in the dining commons, know that advisors often have a card or treat for students on the celebratory day. I love that about this school. I like seeing students swing through Maxwell Savage to pick up the cakes baked by the Andover Service Club. But what I am not used to is a couple of advisories cramming into my office to sing happy birthday to me. What I am not used to is Barb calling me down in the middle of lunch because Edna wants to say hello (which she did want to do), then rustling up more birthday song during the lunch rush. There’s an age, and let’s just say I have reached that age, when birthdays….well, you like to see them slide by without much fanfare. No notice is just fine. Really. Who needs reminding that the next decade has begun? Not me.