The Story Telling Begins

Anne has baked up several batches of 3^rd grade smart cookies the past few years so I’m going to share a third grade story in her honor.  Third grade for me started, oh, hmm…back in 1968. Whoa, made me shiver to write that date.  We all know things have changed dramatically in education since that time.  Philosophy. Methodology. Standardized testing. Kids too. 

This is a story of a problem maker or problem solver.  You decide.

Recess came early that windy fall day for Linda.  Inexplicably she ventured out to recess when the rest of her class ventured, well they didn’t really venture anywhere since they were where they were supposed to be.  No adventure in that.  It all had to do with timing and the class line that went one way when she went another. Adding to the peculiarity of the situation Kent also zigged when the rest of the class zagged.  He followed Linda out the door.

The playground was full of other classes and children were everywhere.  Playing kickball and chasing each other, swinging, and going down the really tall slide.  You know, the kind of slide now banned from playgrounds.  The kind of slide made of metal that on a sunny West Texas day was hotter than a George Forman grill.  It was the kind of slide where fights broke out over someone cutting in line.  A slide that sitting on a little wax paper turned it into a juvenile missile launcher.  Linda played for a while with others she knew but the words her friend Cindy whispered as Linda turned out the side door kept repeating in her mind, “Where are you going?  We aren’t going to recess now.”  But Kent was out and he never did anything wrong.  The rest of the class plus Mrs. H were missing recess.  Why?

None of the other teachers on the playground seemed to notice there were two extra students with them.  Did Mrs. H notice she was missing two students?  The end of recess was signaled and all the children lined up and went inside.  All except Linda and Kent.  The once boisterous playground was now quiet.  The long line at the slide was now gone.  Linda went back and forth in the swing watching Kent play on the merry-go-round.  Neither talked to the other.  Were they both trying to figure out their situation?  They both took advantage of no line at the slide.  There was no fear.

Minutes passed slowly as the two recess rebels continued to enjoy their personal, private playground.  The shrill ringing of the school bell broke the silence and the two students walked back to the side door nearest their classroom.  As they were about to open the door, their classmates came bursting out.  Kent quickly fell in line with the others to enjoy yet another round of recess fun.  Linda fought through the crowd like a salmon swimming upstream and headed back to the classroom. 

The quietness of the empty classroom still did not evoke any fear within Linda.  She took out her math book, sharpened her pencil and started on the math assignment written on the board.  A teacher passing down the hallway stopped and asked where Mrs. H was.  Recess. The sound of footsteps continued down the hallway. 

Math problems completed.  A quick restroom break.  Then out came the Hardy Boys library book.  Linda sat at her desk reading until the class returned.  No fear.  No questions.  No repercussions.

As an educator now, this story frightens me.  As the main character, it did not. I remember it all very clearly.  The sights, the sounds, the way the empty swings were moving in the wind, the coolness of the empty, dark classroom.  It was the first and the last time I had an independent recess.

The school day wasn’t a loss.  I got in my recess time, finished my math and still managed to read a book.  Problem maker?  Problem solver? 

How differently this story would play out today.

Moral of the Story: Count your students – frequently.