My class tends to walk in casual straight line. I know they’re supposed to be super straight, (I see a few (or at least one) intense judgy looks). The problem is that I always think of a Georgia Heard poem I once read. The poem, titled Straight Line, begins like this:
All the kindergarteners
walk to recess and back
in a perfectly straight line
no words between them.
They must stifle their small voices,
their laughter, they must
stop the little skip in their walk,
they must not dance or hop
or run or exclaim.
They must line up
at the water fountain
straight, and in perfect form,
like the brick wall behind them...
See what I mean? Ever since reading that poem, I’ve cared a little less about how straight my classroom line is. I more suggest a straight line than require one. I mean it’s a goal, because it’s technically a school expectation, but it’s not one I’m too fussed about. I do want the kids to be quiet, because there’s other learning going on around them, but I don’t require military precision in our formation.
Unfortunately, lately we have become a large, amorphous mass, taking up more than our fair amount of hallway space. Reminders haven’t been working. It was time to straighten up our act, so to speak.
So, as we headed out to recess one day last week, I reminded the class that our goal was to walk out to recess in a single file today and to be quiet while doing so. We lined up in the room, and after another reminder, we headed out of the room and into the hallway. The class was doing pretty well. I gave them a thumbs up. One student edged out of line.
“Get back in line, G.” shouted N, another one of my students, who consistently vies for my job. It was not even 10 am and this was the 178th time he’d redirected classmates. Or was it the 179th? It should be noted that he doesn’t mind attempting to redirect me, too, if he thinks I’ve gotten out of line.
I pushed repeat on my regular refrain, “N, you’re responsible for you.” Then in a bid to change things up and maybe add a bit of humor to the mix, added, “That’s my job. That’s why they pay me every two weeks.”
Several of the students looked up at me quizzically. Especially O. He opened his mouth to speak, but I put a finger to my lips as a silent reminder. We kept moving forward, down the hallway and around the corner. Our line was looking pretty good, and it was quiet, too!
“Wait!” O. suddenly burst out, a few steps later, apparently unable to do so any longer. “Do you pay to come here or do they pay you?”
I stopped in my tracks and looked down at him. My brain struggled to make sense of what he’d just said. Clearly, I needed to clarify. “O., are you asking if I pay to come to school and teach or if I get paid?”
O. looked at me earnestly and nodded. A few kids near him nodded, too.
After a speechless moment or two, I asked, “Well, what do you think?”
There was a pause and then C. spoke up. “I think you pay,” he said. A few other students nodded in agreement.
Replay that speechless moment or two.
“Well,” I finally said, as I started to move forward again, “This is my job, and most people get paid to do their jobs, right?”
“Yeah,” O. said somewhat doubtfully, “But you had to pay to apply, right?”
“No, actually I didn’t.”
They looked at me like they didn’t believe me, or like I was the confused one. We’d already clearly lost the battle on a silent walk, and to be honest, I’d contributed to the conversation as much as they had. As I gathered up my spinning thoughts (Are they that confused or do they think they’re that cute?), we continued moving forward.
We were out the door to recess before I could clear my head enough to determine if our line was straight or not. I’m pretty sure we were in a clump again, my straight line ambitions blown to the wind.
This all reminded me of an anecdote my colleague shared last year. She was drinking an iced coffee at recess duty. One of her second grade students approached. “What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s an iced coffee,” she answered. “I picked it up on the way to work.”
“Oh,” he said. Then, after a brief pause, he asked politely, “So, where do you work?”
Nix the comfort zone 
Thanks for the chunkle! I started my career teaching kinders and it really is a special place. You capture why so well in this slice. Your student’s question has me pondering. IS there a job I would pay to apply to and pay to do?? Something to think about today!
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Oh, that is a good question to ponder!
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Well, you must seem like you’re having fun. You pay to go to a hockey game, I guess it makes sense to pay to go to the playground and classroom. Did you actually clear it up for them or did you leave them with the charming unreality?
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I was so surprised, and then it was recess…I don’t even know! lol I’m pretty sure I indicated that I got paid. Whether that information was fully received or not is uncertain.
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Thanks for the laugh, Molly! So interesting to hear their point of view. They probably think you live there, anyway!
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It’s always funny to see how shocked they are when they see you “on the loose” in the community! lol
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As a first time middle school teacher in Kittery, I was fixated on straight lines. Somehow the students forgave me by the end of the year.
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It’s so easy to fixate on straight lines–they’re so visible to everyone else!
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Thanks for the giggle. Of COURSE we should be paying to spend our days with small human beings who spout truth and poetry without filters!
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As a retired elementary school teacher K-5, I love reading about your class and their comments and insights. This was priceless. I was teary eyed and chuckling. I have to pass this along to my teacher friends, thanks.
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I’m so glad you got a laugh out of this. Thanks for reading and commenting 🙂
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Your stories are always good for a chuckle and head bump! I love that your students think you pay to come be with them all day. They should think this because you are that awesome!
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Thanks! Today wasn’t as much fun, as one of them asked if the school was going to close. I said “No”, but asked her why she’d asked that. “Well,” she said, “Donald Trump is closing lots of things, and making things cost more money.” And this from a 2nd grader 😦
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LOL! and OMG! I wonder if kids get these ideas about teachers and their jobs at home. I can’t imagine. Well, actually I can. I know many think elementary teachers don’t get paid as much as secondary teachers. Worse, they think elementary teachers should be paid less. Yikes! And about that straight line: By the time they reach high school they won’t know what a straight line is and will insist they’ve never heard of such a phenomenon.
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By the time they reach middle school, they don’t know what a straight line is! lol
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I love kids and their thinking!! What a funny story! 🙂 I’m with you on the straight line thing. It’s mildly important, but I’m not too fussed either.
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It’s one of those weird things…like a straight line is an indicator of a well-managed classroom.
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Once again, you had me laughing out loud! Your ability to capture the physical image (the amorphous blob of a line) and the sounds you hear (like the ridiculous “is this for real” questions of the kids) is fantastic. Our line is nonexistent at this point with the 5th graders. I’m so glad we’re all kind of in that same boat, and that we all have that student who “vies for our job.”
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Thanks, Amy! It seems like I keep coming across all sorts of funny moments since we stopped slicing daily 🙂
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Thank you for including the poem by Georgia Heard and the laughs. I need to get up to speed on her books. I am reading her book My Thoughts Are Clouds Poems for Mindfulness.
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I have “My Thoughts Are Clouds”. I used it a lot when I taught 4th grade, but haven’t done as much with it now that I’m back in 2nd grade. Thanks for the reminder to do so.
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Molly you have a way of capturing those weird little school-only situations–like the attention to line walking (I just had a K teacher apologize to me today because she was sure her class had disrupted mine as they walked by–I didn’t even know they had walked by!)
The funniest part of the pay story was when the kid asked your colleague after the coffee story, “where do you work?” Oh kids! They do add joy and hilarity (along with equal parts frustration and disbelief) to our jobs! Wait–is this really a job? 😉
Kim
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I’m glad you mentioned your interaction with the K teacher. I wonder how often I’m worried that my class bothered someone’s class and that was really a non-issue.
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hahaha the end was perfect for this story and encapsulates how those little primary brains work. My kindergarten and first grade groups are so innocent, it’s delightful sometimes. Thanks for sharing the poem too, I think some rules are meant to be flexible. And keeping kids kids as long as possible is a good rule, too.
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It’s definitely a good rule to keep kids kids as long as possible!
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Hahaha, this slice took me in such a surprising direction—and I loved it! I’m so glad you captured this moment and shared it with us in a way only you can!
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