Today, I’m having trouble finding anything at all new in my
day. It was one of those days when I put
my nose to the grindstone from the moment I got up, and I’m just looking up
now. My students were diligent, and
discussion was lively – but nothing too out of the ordinary happened (if there
is such thing as an “ordinary” day teaching high school). I'm in the process of plowing through over
150 essays before the end of quarter next Friday, so every single minute that
I’m not planning, teaching, eating, drinking coffee, or catching my breath has
been spent bleeding red (or pink, or purple, or teal) over student papers.
So it’s the very, very little things that stand out to me
today – and I have to look for them.
Today, in response to discussion on Chaim Potok’s My Name is Asher Lev, one of my freshmen said, “Well, of course his
life can seem mundane and repetitive because when it comes down to it – that’s
what life is.” He didn’t mean it as a
negative comment – it’s true. It’s
something we have talked about in his class before. If life is just a series of moments, a string
of repetitive acts, then each of those moments becomes important. Each moment finds its weight in the truth
that, in and of itself, that moment is
life. That is what my day was today – a
series of repetitive acts made special simply because I lived
them.
Looking back on today – what stands out to me? What were those moments? Well, in first period, it was one student’s
birthday, so we did “fireworks” – a highly effective teaching tool that I
learned from a friend and have appropriated to a) celebrate birthdays and b)
occasionally bribe students to work until the bell. Every time we do “fireworks” for a birthday,
the student is, invariably, gleeful – so thrilled to be recognized on his or
her special day. For me, it’s just
another day, but for them – it is their chance to tell me how old they are,
what they are having for dinner, if there is going to be cake (I ask this every
time) and then – the all important question, “What color do you want your
fireworks to be?” Fireworks, of course,
are colorless. They are just hand
motions, claps and sounds performed simultaneously – but kids will sit for 30
seconds or more deciding what color they want their fireworks to be. It’s adorable. Today, we did red fireworks.
In fourth period, a student asked if her class could start
doing the “word of the day” that I do with my honors freshmen classes. She shared the word “omphaloskepsis” – the
art of contemplating one’s navel, and the entire class was excited about
sharing words definitions, and sentences each day – not for credit, just for
“fun.” These kids share my idea of fun.
In seventh period, a student raised her hand and said “I
don’t know why, but every time we read a book, I keep thinking back to those
questions from Lord of the Flies” (Essential
Questions, if we’re using the correct terminology – but I’m not being
picky). I wanted to hug her. That’s exactly what an essential question is
– something I want them to retain when they forget all the details. “Which question?” I asked.
“Is man essentially evil?” she said.
When I asked her what she thought, she said “Yeah, I think so.” Well – that's what we get when we’re knee deep
in A Tale of Two Cities.
When I got to my dance studio to teach, the moments were just
as uplifting and adorable. There was the
serious furrowed brow on an eight year old as she tried to do her step
perfectly while practicing for a St. Patrick’s day show, and the grin of
self-satisfaction when she nailed it. There
was the six year old who still can’t tie her complicated dance shoes, and came
running up to me to help her. Through
gapped teeth, she lisped to me that she could tie her regular shoes just fine,
but these were “just too hard.”
A series of repetitive acts strung together to make a day. Written that way - as a phrase, as a page
torn out of a daily calendar - it’s easy to mistake each of those acts as
mundane, unnecessary, or unimportant.
Looked at as moments that make up a life, though, they take on a special
shine all their own. What is life but a
whole bunch of little things made special because they belong to us? And so, I find myself one more special day
closer to thirty.
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