In preparation for my trip to Albuquerque in February I started working less in my role as a substitute teaching assistant at the Montessori school. I was slow to return to the work. Three months have passed, and recently I began working again. I missed out on most of the spring semester, so now it's a matter of refamiliarizing myself; relearning students names, and having them relearn mine. Fortunately, the students have been happy to see me again.
The school is going through a spasm of reconstruction, so the ways of olde have been disrupted. For example, middle school students now hold class in the cafeteria and in an outdoors tent. Several portable classrooms have been removed, so classrooms may have been combined, new fences have been erected, and the old pathways altered.
"Laser!" shouted the one student who insists on Star-Wars-fantasy play, to the near-exclusion of other forms, and thus the alienation of other playmates. "I thought I left you on the Plains of Nullibor," I muttered in response. The student, my nemesis, smiled back in a steely way.
Two boys who seem like refugees from the Seventies, with their 70s bro-handshakes (which they have christened 'dabbing'), were overjoyed to see me. In their circle, handshakes with me, an actual refugee from the 70s, were apparently made mandatory, so several other boys who I didn't know but were part of the circle came over to do their due diligence and shake my hand in 70s style too. The leader of the circle loves dinosaurs, and his story is that even though their teacher is older than the hills, I am older still, and can actually recollect that special day when the asteroid arrived to wipe out the dinosaurs.
One first-grade girl came over. She's missing most of her front teeth now, which I guess happens to some in the first grade. She wanted to talk about the old days (namely, 2025). "I used to see you at Club M when I was in kindergarten," she said. "I saw you after that," I replied, "in particular, I saw you in your first grade class." She was surprised; she didn't remember. "What was I doing?" she asked. "Language or math?" "Oh, I think you were doing language," I replied. "You were busy so you don't remember me being there."
Last week, I substituted in the middle school class and helped monitor a test in the cafeteria. It was trying at times, since noisy kindergartners came to the cafeteria too, to get lunches and cause disruptions. As I watched the class, two boys exchanged glances. One boy tore off a small piece of paper, wrote a note on it, rolled the piece of paper into a small ball, and threw it on the floor at the other kid's feet. It's been nearly sixty years, but my middle school instincts, once honed to perfection at Taylor Middle School in Albuquerque's North Valley in the late 60s, were still intact. I knew that the note was to be found under the kid's right foot. Thus began a contest of wills, which the kid tried to survive by Playing Dumb. I've never seen any other kid Play Dumb quite this well. I jostled the kid's feet with my right foot. The kid helpfully moved his left foot in order to show that he had nothing to hide.
Yesterday, I was in a Lower El class (grades 1-3). It was amusing listening to some of the petty interactions between tablemates. "Stop it! You're humming!" one girl complained. "I think better when I hum, which I'm doing quietly, and if it bothers you, you should go get some headphones to wear!" the humming girl replied. It's frustrating to be in elementary school classes, sometimes.
Today, I was with a group of kindergartners. Students ate bananas at snack time. I stated that I had a hard time eating an entire banana at one sitting, since they are so sweet. A kid replied that with my big belly I should have a near-infinite capacity to eat bananas.
One of the kindergarten students started acting out, so the rest of the class was sent for an unusually-long time to the school garden, which was still accessible despite the school reconstruction. The kids became interested in a tall sunflower which bore sunflower seeds. Since I was the tallest I picked the seeds, one by one. Some students ate the seeds while others found places to plant them. There was a bit of a problem with sunflower-seed greed, with one girl in particular demanding more and more seeds. After awhile I became dimly-aware that the sunflower was probably a project by one of the other kindergarten classes. Maybe we should have asked. But at least a good time was had by all.
Just before class ended, an old problem returned. "Laser!" My nemesis had found me again. "I don't believe you are real," I replied, "but rather a clone." "Reality!" the student shouted, before I was beset by electrocution rays. Welcome back!
