Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Phys Ed

The girls have been talking about their substitute P.E. teacher lately. Apparently he talks really fast. Zoey & Pazely say it's hard to understand what he's saying all the time—because he talks so fast. The story was told to me, by my 8 year old, that the teacher recently told his students the reason he talks so fast: so nobody interrupts him. First, when he said this, the children couldn't understand what he had just said. And second, during his attempt at revealing the cause for his speedy speech, a little boy actually interrupted him & asked, "Can I go to the bathroom?" The teacher responded with a hasty, "No," & then continued finishing his explanation in double time. 

Stuff like this CRACKS me up! On the one hand, the guy is combating his obviously strong irritation at being interrupted by trying to accelerate his dialogue. On the other hand, the students are probably catching only 60% of what he says. So, in a sense, a need for a polite interruption seems unavoidable.
Catch 22 in full effect.

After dinner tonight Pazely showed me what she's learning in P.E. You know how you jump up & spin all the way around, & then land on your feet in the same spot? Yeah, she's learning that. How come I didn't learn that kind of stuff in P.E. when I was a kid? Maybe I did. I just can't recall that far back.

My rememberings of P.E. mostly involve running a million miles or playing dodgeball. When we ran, I was always lagging behind with the so-called "fat" girls. And, no offense to the "fat" girls. Hey, our lungs burned with the same intense blaze. We both heaved & huffed & puffed so loud that we couldn't hear ourselves talk. We had an equally strong dislike for the athletes who were born to run. We? We were not born to run. And that is a part of our shared fate.

And in dodgeball, I was always picked last. And don't tell me YOU were always picked last too. Because, seriously, everyone I meet was "always picked last". And that's just not possible. We ALL couldn't have been picked last.
One time, though, I met someone who was picked FIRST. It was an anomaly. I was rather stunned into silence upon meeting her. And she was almost ashamed to admit her "picked first" history. (Maybe because I had just gotten finished with my bitter "I was picked last" speech.) She bowed her head, maybe in respect to me, & softly declared, "I was always picked first." She mumbled so quietly I had to ask her to repeat herself.
Upon realizing what she had just confessed, I sort of felt like she had just hit me...in the head with a giant red rubber ball. It was a weird encounter. I don't care if I never meet someone who was picked first again. Although, I'm pretty sure I married one. He won't right-out admit to me whether he was picked first or not. I think he doesn't want to hurt my feelings. But it does kind of make sense why he always wants to settle arguments by expeditiously tossing round objects. (I'm totally kidding!)

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