on the iPod: "santa monica" -- everclear
I love working in education. Of course there's the typical drawbacks that most professions incur -- long hours, disgruntled patrons, bureaucracy, meetings that never end, professional development, et cetera; and believe you me when I say that education has more than its pitfalls of the aforementioned. I won't touch on the pay. But despite it all I really do love my job. And the reason why is simple to describe: the students. Just as soon as I think i've had all that I can stand and i'm ready to throw throw my hands in the air, it never fails that one of them will inexplicably remind me through a comment or action exactly why I teach, and most of the time they won't even know they've done it. We're one week in to the spring semester at BHS and, like the first week back from Winter Break every year, it was a damn whirlwind. I'm so proud of all that we do as a really large learning community, but sheparding 4,000 students through the perils of high school can be exhausting -- and by Thursday that's exactly what I was feeling. Like really exhausted.
Marathon runners will often describe running out of energy when the mileage hits 18 and beyond, so much so that they'll complain not only of fatigue and extreme pain, but also dehydration, confusion, dizziness, and even hallucinations. It's affectionately called "hitting the wall". In the four marathons i've run, i've come close to doing so, but I don't think i've ever completely hit the wall. That's not to say that the mileage beyond 18 hasn't kicked me in the ass, because please understand that it does every time (and I like it!), but I think I'd know it if I got confused and started hallucinating.
Knowing that most likely I'd be worn out from the first week back, and having checked the 10 day forecast on my favorite iPhone app -- The Weather Channel -- and seeing that Friday afternoon was supposed to be in the low 60's, I made an executive decision to mix it up a little bit and get in my long run immediately after the last bell rang for the day. I needed 13 miles and knew that the Bentonville Half Marathon course would provide tough, uphill miles that would pay dividends for Little Rock. It was also a good idea because I was scheduled to help Mrs. Pugh with a lock-in for our IB Programme students that night. The typical early Saturday morning run wouldn't have fared well after a week of multiple 12 hour days and being up well past midnight chaperoning about 35 rambunctious, over-caffeinated high school juniors and seniors.
I love the Bentonville Half Marathon course. It has a sufficient amount of incline to make it difficult, including a massive hill in mile 12, it traverses through great downtown neighborhoods and past Crystal Bridges, and its an easy loop. The lone stretch that gets a bit dicey comes around mile three, on an interstate service road that's typically pretty windy and always loud from traffic. Of course that's where I really needed to use the bathroom and had nowhere to go. I banged on the door of the Mormon church after seeing a few cars in the parking lot. Beyond the fact that I really needed to pee, I was exciting to be able to go into an LDS church for the first time ever because their ideas about faith fascinate me. But it was to no avail, as my knocking fell on deaf ears and I had to hold it until mile 5 when I darted into the bathrooms at the Memorial Park tennis complex. Pouting over not getting to see the inside of the Mormon church but feeling much better after going to the bathroom, the rest of the run was joyously uneventful. I finished with sore legs and an even stronger desire to make it inside. I think the LDS church gets a bad rap, primarily based on rumors and misinformation. John Smith and Brigham Young were probably stand-up guys for their time. If they were around in 2013 I might have a different opinion, but in the context of the time, I have no reason to believe otherwise. If Moses could part the Red Sea, then why can't they bury some crazy-assed gold plates in upstate New York.
After stopping off at Little Caesar's to pick up 10 large pizzas and enough full-flavored soda to choke a giraffe, I made it to the lock-in only a few hours late. Mrs. Pugh was clearly outnumbered but in good company nonetheless. After a French and Spanish review session, an impromptu dance party broke out and we hunkered in the corner and prayed that we wouldn't be dragged into the middle of it. I survived, but Mrs. Pugh wasn't so lucky. One minute we were sitting idly by, waxing nostalgic about being great friends, and the next minute she was front and center, doing some ridiculous dance move to the Black Eyed Peas's "I Gotta Feelin". She's such a great sport about things like that. We need more teachers like her in our nation's classrooms, because she makes a difference in these student's lives. And that's the truth. As much as mastering content is important, and learning to think critically is the ultimate goal, students also need solid adults in their lives. I remember the teachers that made a difference for me: Mr. Sewald, Mrs. Chadick, Mrs. Dean, Dr. Maines, because they showed care and concern for me as an individual. I'll bet Mrs. Pugh is on a lot of those sorts of lists.
I couldn't miss a chance to get proof of it. There may or may not also be a short video clip, but i'm holding it for when I need a favor.
In the interim I've got to find some time for sleep, because right now i'm more tired than a one-legged duck swimming circles in a turtle pool. The exhaustion happens every year this time, so I know things will calm down and we'll get back into the routine of stamping out ignorance one class at a time. And when I've just about had enough of all the rest of it, it'll be time for another long run, which is exactly what i'll need. It's going to be a great semester.
Run.
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