on the iPod: "get happy" -- frank sinatra
Thus far 2012 has been pleasantly mild, blanketed in gorgeous sunshine and well-above-average temperatures. Old Man Winter seems to be vacationing in the Poconos, or some other Northeastern destination, as he certainly hasn't roosted in NWA just yet. I'm ready for a solid artic blast of air to dip down and freeze us all into retreat mode, with a batch of crock pot chili and a predictable suspense thriller. I'm cool with four seasons and can appreciate the coldest of winter days, but I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge that the runner in me has relished these fall-like days so far, as it's been great for lacing up and heading out. Yesterday was exactly one of those days. It was nearly perfect for distance running. There would be no running for me, however, as I could only witness it through my windows, while slogging through a sleep-deprived near-coma of groggy confusion.
When Mrs. Pugh floated the idea of throwing a lock-in for our IB students at Bentonville High School, I thought it was an outstanding idea. She first approached me about it sometime in late September as a way to build cohesion in this group of high-end students that we both teach. I pretty much signed on immediately to be her second chaperone, thinking I could survive little to no sleep for just one night. We set the date for the first weekend back from Winter Break and I filed it away, only to remember it again at the beginning of this week.
Needless to say, I had an "Oh, shit!" moment when the realization that I would be spending a sleepless night with approximately 30 rambunctious seniors in high school actually sank in, and I scrambled to come up with an excuse as to why I was now suddenly busy. My cleaning lady didn't show up. A bandit stole all my underwear. My grandmother was having surgery. Had to walk the dog. I'd entered a bake-off. But there was no backing out on my best good friend Mrs. Pugh, so I put on my Big Boy Pants and prepared for the inevitable. Now that i'm officially back in the land of the living, I can report that i'm so happy I did.
Saying that the students had a blast would be an understatement. After a few hours of working on a cumulative research paper that they all must write as part of their advanced curriculum, the fun began. There was, of course, 8 large pizzas and tons of junk food. There were boardgames. There was a movie marathon. There was a Just Dance 3 tournament. There was more junk food. There was a flag football game. There was running-wild-through-the-halls-of-your-high-school in complete and total mayhem. Mrs. Pugh and I sat back and watched it all, delighted to provide our students an outlet for creativity and friendship-building. At one point amongst the controlled chaos and teen spirit, I retreated into my own mind and harkened back to my high school years, remembering similar experiences I had with my friends and just how much those times had a positive impact on me. My nervous system surged as emotions flew across my consciousness. It reminded my why I teach, and why I love what I do. Every single day. I know that Mrs. Pugh and my other colleagues feel the same way.
By midnight I was already yawning. This is not good.
By 2:00 a.m. Mrs. Pugh was in the La-Z-Boy. She was a trooper.
By 5:00 a.m. I had commandeered the La-Z-Boy and was out like a light.
We slept a total of about an hour and a half, waking in a stupor only to clean up the disaster and corral the students, who seemed to still have more energy than a pack of loose spider monkeys in a Mountain Dew plant. After Mrs. Pugh cooked pancakes for the hungry masses (yep, more food), we all departed just short of 9:00 a.m. The drive home south on Interstate 540 is somewhat of a blur. So is taking a shower, brewing a pot of coffee, talking to Cynthia Puckett on the phone, watching an episode of Law and Order, vacuuming my bedroom, walking Abe Lincoln around the block, and eating a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. The whole day is a hazy mess. I was in bed by 6:30 and didn't wake up this morning until 9:00 a.m.
Despite the fact that today's weather was balmy and overcast, I couldn't resist the chance to get out on the trails. Relatively empty, I had sizeable expanses of the trail to myself and my thoughts were certainly rooted in my own high school experiences, as I was still mildly groggy from the weekend. I distinctly remember church lock-ins, choir events, camping with my family, Friday night football games, ski trips; the things that made my formative years so important and positive. The common denominator in all of them were teachers and mentors, parents and chaperones, adults that cared. People that took time and made a difference. Now that i'm an adult and my role has changed, I can only hope that I get it right and have some sort of impact on at least a few of them. I hope. I really do. I'm too old these days to stay up all night and not pay for it the next day, but after witnessing those students have so much fun, i'll do it all again just as soon as Mrs. Pugh asks me. And while I wait for the next chance to impact another human being, particularly students, in whatever way that may be, i'll continue to do what I love the most.
Run.
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