As we were grocery shopping this afternoon, Jesus Jones' "Right Here, Right Now" came on. Immediately, the Boy began to dance & sing along. I had a brief mad urge to send him to a dancefloor - but as we were in the cereal aisle, I had to admit that I had no idea where such a dancefloor would be. Probably near the bagels.
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Today I happened across a student of mine skulking about downtown. From the looks of it, he was just as bored as I was at that age. We exchanged pleasantries (he's another one who can't make small talk for shit, God bless him) and he asked, ever so casually, when I was coming back. I was thrilled to be asked.
I can't say that it makes up for all the crap, but it's still a bit thrilling to be anticipated.
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I've become more and more convinced that teachers need panic buttons on the bottom edge of their desks, just like the emergency signals in banks and convenience stores. If by some chance we're up in front of a class and we have nothing more to teach them, we can edge nervously towards our desks and request a substitute immediately. Either that, or a clown that makes balloon animals. Either/or.
This is a better plan than the one I dreamed up on practicum: I fantasized about being able to close my books and say, "we're done today. Go play outside for the rest of the period." Because sometimes you are done, and it's best for everybody involved if you just admit it.
But even this plan is better than my first contingency plan, which is to ask the Boy to dress up as a historical figure and present a lecture on days when I don't have anything planned. I have an extremely clear visual of the Boy in a pilgrim outfit pretending to be Francis Bacon while my students nudge one another knowingly.
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3 years ago today: guest entry
