Where the inside of my mind leaks onto the screen.

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

All Hail

I stopped dead in the doorway, suppressing surprise and giggles but letting the smile right out.  My coworker's eyebrows arched, asking a question that needed no verbalization.

Why did all your students just fall out of their seats as though they are worshiping a king?

I called on a student who confidently explained that as part of our discussion regarding the Aztec king Moctezuma II, we had learned that no one was allowed to look him in the eyes and that even his highest nobles fell on their faces when he entered a room.

A very valid POINT A, to be sure, but I could tell my colleague needed a little more guidance to get her to the point where all my students were on the floor.

I took over, letting the words tumble like they do when I am excited - an overwhelming occurrence I have recently learned is a gift from the ADHD gods.  Although I am certain my syntax was littered with prepositional phrases and transitions and whatnot, I image she caught only a fraction of it.  The students wanted to hail the principal like she was the king.  I thought it unlikely the principal would happen upon our lesson.  I extended their idea to include any adult who walked in.  I didn't think anyone would walk in.

And then ADHD gift number two: I had forgotten entirely that we'd had this conversation, left the classroom to grab said coworker for a consult on a classroom issue, then walked back in - accidentally satisfying all the conditions of the deal to which I had just agreed.

And so I had twenty-six proud, quiet students, all-hailing-the-king in the general direction of the doorway and an incredible, albeit accidental, object lesson they won't likely forget.

I bet that somehow makes it into the answers on the essay test!