Pretty Impressive!

Among the many paradoxes of work, one repeats itself over and over. To me, it is a deep irony that borders on gross injustice. It is this: we don't want obese kids, yet we don't let kids run in the halls. Granted, we don't want bleeding, unconscious or otherwise incapacitated kids, either, but in Washington, where it rains, it seems like such a practical solution to limited outdoor play.

Still, I try to be a good authority figure. I tell kids to quit running. I turn around to watch them, so that when they break into a run once past me, I can tell them to quit running again. And again. In dire situations, I whip out the, "Come back here and walk with me."

This week, though, the kids won. I was walking down the hall, when I come across two first graders. Hope is lying on her stomach smack dab in the center of the hall, with her head back touching both feet. Because I am a grown-up, and therefore stupid, she explains the situation to me, "I'm touching my head with my feet."

I fight off my initial wave of awe and say, "I see that. Get to class." Or something equally adult and inane.

Jared, not to be out done, immediately slides into full side splits. By now, I'm mesmerized. Two stupid human tricks at once. I can't move. I can't think. All I can say is, "Wow, actually, that's pretty impressive."

The creaking sound of social mores giving way snaps me back to reality. Order must be upheld. As though from very far away, I hear myself, "Okay, get up and get to class."

But I can't bring myself to turn around and watch. And sure enough, behind me I hear one child say to the other,

"Stop running!"

"I'm not running. I'm walking with a purpose."

"No you're not. You're walking with your bottom."

"No, I'm walking on my bottom."

Sweet victory.