"'Gee wiz,' miss? You said, ''Gee wiz'?"

"Yes, Brandon. I said, 'Gee wiz.'"

"I never heard that before, miss."

This was yet another passing exchange with an eighth-grade student who is trying to help me bring my vocabulary up-to-date with today's street English. The child means well, surely. He tells me things like, "Don't say 'chill,' miss; say 'relax.'" And I remember and do.

But "gee wiz" got me. I told him it means "wow." But it didn't matter because it's not today's usage.

Back in the day, "gee wiz" was street English for Jesus, a way of using the name without using the name to express surprise. Now it is an indication of a middle-aged woman's enduring naivete despite her daily contact with children who haven't learned to read and write well and don't much care to because they don't see the point.

My young teacher set me on the way to thinking about that enduring naivete. It is my blessing this week. It is the gift that gets me out of bed every morning to face a full day of tough kids who resent my interfering in the despair and laziness with which they made peace a long time ago. It allows me to love the day, shake off the frustration, go home and be my daughter's mom.

Gee wiz, I am very grateful for this. And for the deep and abiding love in my life that makes it possible.

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