by jphilo | Oct 11, 2007 | Out and About
Yesterday, I spoke to a group of third graders here in town. I last taught kids that age a dozen years ago before I moved to fourth grade. But not much has changed in the intervening years. The halls still smell of floor was and books, the teachers still work hard, and the kids still get bored after fifteen minutes.
Most of all, third graders still think the same. They’re devoted to their families. They think everybody should follow the rules. They all have stories to tell – about pets, vacations, brothers and sisters. And third grade is when they gain enough skill to put some of their ideas into practice. It’s a very exciting age to be.
I’d forgotten how much effort it takes to contain the excitement and energy of 20+ students. My feet hurt when I got home, and I was tired I slept really well last night. But I was happy too, for the hour spent in a world clearly defined by pets and family and rules. I was thankful for the teachers who show those students how to navigate their way into a much bigger world.
I’m pretty sure their feet hurt a whole lot more than mine did. And I’m hoping they slept well, too. They need it.
by jphilo | Sep 17, 2007 | Family
My husband, son and daughter are science fiction fans. They love Star Trek (every generation) and Star Wars, Dr. Who and any other show that includes time travel and extra dimensions. So I’m wondering why I’m the first person in our family to have actually engaged in time travel.
It happened last Friday when I accompanied my mother on a lunch date. She wanted me to meet some people she recently reconnected with, former sixth grade students from the first class she taught in the late 1940s. She’d gone to their 50th class reunion back in June, but there were plenty of old memories left to share in September.
The time travel part started as soon as we entered the restaurant. “Miss Hess is here,” one of the students announced. They all looked at my mother and smiled. “Miss Hess?” I thought. “I never knew her when she was Miss Hess. Too weird.”
“Miss Hess,” another student told her, “you have to sit in the middle so we can all talk to you. We’ll save your place while you pay for lunch.” “Don’t forget to ask for your senior citizen discount,” someone else reminded her. “We all got ours.”
I was feeling younger by the minute. First my mother had become someone she’d been before I existed. Now I was the only person in the room who didn’t qualify for the senior citizen discount. Since Mom treated me to lunch, I didn’t have to suffer for being such a spring chicken. I kind of enjoyed being the youngest in the room, something that’s been happening less and less often of late/
For the next few hours, they shared memories of days that didn’t include me. And as they laughed and told their stories and laughed some more I thought of days in the future, I perhaps far in the future, that will not include me or them.
Time goes so fast I realized as I watched these retired adults see my mother with sixth grade eyes and call her by a name last spoken almost sixty years ago. Time goes so fast. How will I use mine before it is gone?
