March 2020 SOLC–Day 4
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Yesterday afternoon, at the end of a long, crummy day, I walked into the school foyer from the bus loop.
“Hey, Mrs. Hogan!”
I turned around. K., a sixth grader, came up behind me, and leaned in for her usual hug. T., walking beside her, added a hug of her own.
I smiled and felt my shoulders relax.
“Hey, K and T. How’s it goin’?” I asked.
“Good,” they chorused.
“No offense, Mrs. Hogan,” K said, “but I don’t want to be in your class again. You know why?”
“Um, no,” I said, laughing.
She launched into speech, eager to explain. (Clearly she’d spent some time thinking about this!)
“In second grade I was in your class–” She paused dramatically. “–and I broke my arm.” She stopped again to let that sink in. “Then, in fourth grade I was in your class again!” She put her hands on her hips. “And I broke my arm again!” She threw her arms up and looked at me semi-accusingly, secure in her logic. “So, do you see what I mean? Do you see why I don’t want to be in your class again?”
Before I could respond, and defend myself–especially considering that neither of those broken arms were incurred in my classroom or even at school–T., whoseriouslydoesn’tbreathawordwhenshetalks andoncetoldmethathermomtoldherthatherfirstwordwasasentenceandshewasn’tkiddingMrs.Hogan, chimed in, “So, what about when someone–” She widened her eyes and stared pointedly at K. “– got so excited the night before her birthday that she closed her eyes and spun around ’til she got dizzy crashed into the wall and got a black eye was that her fault, too?”
K. looked slightly abashed. “Welllllll….”
The three of us laughed and walked into the main building together.
We said our goodbyes, and they turned one way and I turned another. The smile lingered on my face as I headed down the hallway to my classroom to straighten out the mess of the day. It didn’t seem quite as daunting now.