COLUMN: he day I became ‘show and tell’
With all the anticipation in the world, Miss Stoddard’s kindergartners from Adams Elementary School eagerly awaited the visitation of a real life pirate a couple Fridays ago. Arrrrrrr – to their dismay, I showed up.
I’m still not entirely sure why they thought I’d be a pirate, I’m guessing it was in part due to the active imagination of a small child named Bethany. Nevertheless, I am really tall, and that novelty made up for my lack of swashbuckler potential.
I arrived in class just as “Show and Tell” began, and I couldn’t wait to see what the kids brought. Kelcie arrived with a new pencil that she said she won for getting knocked out. The teacher and I were pretty confused but soon figured out she was playing Bingo and “blacked out” her whole score sheet. Whew! I knew I hadn’t been to elementary school in awhile, but I was quite sure boxing wasn’t a new class in the curriculum. Hmmm, maybe a pummeling session could prove useful, though, to get those extra wiggles out before story time.
Jenna brought a bug collection with various dead insects pinned to some cardboard. It totally grossed me out. I never remember keeping dead bugs as a child, but then again, when I lived in Singapore we saw so many odd critters every day that I never felt the necessity to garner any of them. Plus I don’t recall being a big fan of the fire ants, geckos, or 12-inch spiders we’d see on school property … and I guess I’ll save the spitting cobra story for another time.
I remember mostly bringing toys like He-Man for “Show and Tell” when I was young, so I was relieved to see that Dayne brought an action figure. Except that his was really weird looking. It was some dude who rides a horse with canons attached to it. Sounds a little dangerous to me, but then again if projectile-bearing equines have now been genetically engineered, more power to Hasbro.
I’ve heard the statement, “All I ever needed to know I learned in kindergarten,” and wasn’t satisfied with that opinion until the time when we all got yummy popsicles before recess. I discovered a new useful phrase that everyone should adopt: “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.” If everyone, young and old, applied this law of the classroom in their everyday lives, we’d all be stuck with purple popsicles. More importantly, there’d be a lot less whining about Al Gore’s misfortune four years ago.
The other thing I learned is that for some strange reason little kids like to attack new people, especially if they’re unusually large. During afternoon recess somehow the entire class simultaneously decided that they wanted to chase me around the playground. I did nothing to provoke the children like uttering the popular “Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, YOU can’t catch me!” I never even stuck out my tongue or put my thumbs in my ears and waved my hands.
Nevertheless, all of a sudden, like when those stupid Box Elder bugs smack into my head, the kids attacked. I knew I could only outrun them for a brief period, because I had sprained my ankle just a couple days prior. Amazingly, like wind-up toys that are somehow broken in the “on” position, they swarmed around my tired body and latched onto it.
Soon I couldn’t move and was eventually forced to the ground. When I recovered consciousness, I was tied up from head to toe. The children danced around and demanded that I be brought before their king. No, wait – that was Gulliver’s story, not mine.
The kids actually did tackle me to the ground and continued to use me as a human trampoline for a little while. I couldn’t see anything because my face was buried in the snow, but all of a sudden I heard one child, my new best friend, utter the words, “Everybody get off, he probably can’t breathe!” The kids hopped off my battered and lifeless body, but as soon as I made an attempt to get up, they assumed I was fine and resumed their bouncing.
Eventually recess was over, and the kids scrambled back into the classroom leaving me alone in the snow. I remember hearing something lately about “No Child Left Behind,” so I quickly got up and went back into the school. Besides, I was wet and unappealingly cold.
Exhausted, the only disappointing time of the day was when I found out that with shortened schedules, naptime had been eliminated. The faculty just told me to go home and have my own nap, and yes, it was a fantastic one.
Kindergarten was really fun and I hope the kids invite me back for another visit. Who knows what adventures could happen if I came back? Hey, and next time I might bring Blaine and John, because, who would have thought, they’re actually real pirates!
Garrett Wheeler is a graduate student in electrical engineering. He impetuously feels that naptime should be part of his tough class schedule. Send any comments or column ideas to wheel@cc.usu.edu.