Being Human

Today... ah, today. The time-change zombie virus lifted and my reading group was back to their normal, inquisitive selves- chatty and wondering how my day was. I'm not really sure how it came about but somewhere in the discussion about the differences between the word "beside" and "besides," Japan and their nuclear reactors were mentioned.

It was Purple Girl who dove into the topic, as she is my environmentally conscious, future Nobel Peace Prize winner. (I am convinced this girl will save our planet one day because of her passion for the Earth.) She slowly starts off, almost whispering to me in the mix of the others talking to each other, informing me that she spent her Saturday with her family watching the tsunami/earthquake aftermath. The boys pick up on her hushed tone and, for the first time in a while, have nothing to say. No jokes. No harsh comments. They just listen. She goes on to explain the situation with the reactors to them, and quite well, I might add, stopping to explain how it might affect the planet.

And then she stops. The concern lines her face and she turns to me, the adult. The person who is supposedly schooled in the laws of science and the ways in which to magically fix every fear a child has. "Mrs. Teach," she says, with worried eyes, "How would you stop the flames from burning and the explosions? You can't dump water on them because they can't be put out that way. What other way is there? How would you save them?"

It's the first time in a long time where I have been shaken like that in front of my kids. My own personal fears and concerns for the general human population have never really seemed to enter their world. I used to be able to pull off being brave and knowledgable. Until now. I couldn't let them see my concern and fears, it would insite a panic that I could not fix. I've been there, I've seen the flash of "real" my teachers showed in crises, and it scared me to know they feared the same things I feared.

A half-second down beat and then I fumbled out some junk about smothering the flames with sand or dirt, as I recalled my high school home ec classes and how to extinguish oil fires. Ug. I could see it instantly on her face. The realization that her fear was my fear. The boys were oblivious, but I could almost see her grow up a little in that moment. Her eyes locked onto me as I changed subjects and I could see the same feeling I had had so many times before. She just realized I'm human... just like her.

Expiration Date

patience (n.)

1. the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like. 
2. an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay. 
3. quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence.

(as defined by dictionary.com)

Patience is a funny thing. I don't consider myself to be a patient person, in general. I hate waiting for things in my schedule, such as eating at a certain time, watching my favorite TV shows, or going to an event. I also have this urgency to get things done as soon as I think them, like purchasing and giving gifts to people. Christmas is the worst because I just want everyone to have their gifts, like, yesterday. I guess you could say I just suck at waiting. ...

But when it comes to being a teacher and a friend, patience is what I do best. Being patient is one of my personal goals- I even have it etched into a washer necklace that I wear daily to remind myself to breathe and to be *sigh* patient. Overall, I rock at definition number 3. Many people (many, many people) who have observed my classroom and groups have complimented me on my quiet, comforting, and steadfast patience.

Why toot my own horn? Well, first off, it's good to know and acknowledge your own strengths, but more importantly, because my patience is being tested by a pair of stubborn-headed, wise-cracking, attitude-flinging sixth grade boys. And it shakes me to the core. 

Long story short, this is the first time in my five years of teaching where I have literally thrown up my hands in frustration and said, "Whatever." It all comes down to them out stubborning my patience. I can deal with red-hot temper tantrums and emotional breakdowns. Hell, I'd take those any day over my afternoons, as of late. 

My two boys, Shrug, whom I've had since he was in fourth grade, and Chip, who just recently joined our group this fall, love to play "games" with each other. And me. Their favorite is when one or both of them shut down... Doesn't seem so bad, right? Except their "shutting down" looks like a dead body on the table with one hand frantically flailing, tapping, clicking, or touching anything and everything they can. Wouldn't be so bad (me = expert ignorer) but there are only 4 kids at the table so when one or both are "shut down," it literally leaves me trying to teach two kids, while haphazardly moving everything off one side of the table, whilst battling hands and feet. This is frustrating on oh-so-many levels. 

The worst part is the lack of reasoning on their front- I am generally pretty good at getting reasons out of my kids for their actions but they play off each other and refuse to talk. Shrug has even taken to (shocker) only shrugging. Sometimes he won't even leave the room- even to go home! And Chip just smiles, because he thinks his dimples can weasel him out of anything. What both boys don't realize is that Mrs. Teach and her patience for "games" have an expiration date. And it is fast approaching.