A class apart
Books, I discovered were an option and one wrote wherever one wished.
‘Rambunctious’… I love everything about that word; the ring, the tone, the meaning of the word captures the very nature and form of the 22 hormone – riddled, hyperactive fourteen year olds that I decided to take on in a delusional moment of bravado. When you are half a century and a year old and you suddenly dive into a bucket list for wish fulfillment, what does that make you but a hormone- riddled, hyperactive gladiator. So we were, from the start, potentially well matched to wage a battle of wits.
Having grown up in all-girl environment for what seems like forever, I always felt I’d lost out on a formative experience, especially after my daughter brought home tales of classroom shenanigans. I had studied in a convent, then a residential women’s college, taught in a women’s college and to top it all, the subject of my research was women. 45 years of that can make you want to exhale. And so when an opportunity presented itself, I grabbed it and here I was in a class with 5 boys. The numbers seemed skewered at first but the infamous five, as I soon discovered, were like five little stones that could bring any number of Goliaths down.
What could go wrong? I was a veteran; I had earned my stripes in more ways than one, from long skirmishes with my brother. Armed with every trick in my book, I entered the class, all set for this mid-life adventure. Unidentified flying objects were spinning in orbit; 2 pitchy voices were shouting a conversation of the latest YouTube sensation and the girls were embroiled in vampire or princess diaries, or in hair extensions. I heard a squeaky “Hi!” Guessing that might be the closest I would get to a “Good Morning” and anxious to strike a cool international note, I said “Hi” too. I had missed much.
Books, I discovered were an option and one wrote wherever one wished. In fact, the cheeky prodigy in my class, my nemesis, never ever brought a book. Controlling, threatening, doling out rewards and baits, and establishing ground rules didn’t really scratch the surface of these perpetually hungry mile-a – minute mouths. I spent many sleepless hours thinking up bizarre ways to ensnare, trap and beguile them into tame submission. After a month, armed with Katy Perry I marched into class and asked them to look for “extended metaphors” in Firework, the Billboard number one. The thaw came. We were soon having intense discussions about Harry Potter, Peter Jackson, Transformers and Master Chef. Bringing my purple-skinned Mac Book to class earned me brownie points and tips on apps, games, hot keys and shortcuts. We became mutual partners as we traded our intelligence, skills and experiences. Now we could negotiate, trade and discuss rationally how we could engage with each other in mutually beneficial encounters.
We are never too old to learn. Affirmation works better than pulling rank. A lusty “Hi” works just as well as a lack- luster “Good morning” and a high five has more gusto than a staid handshake. At fifty one I went back to school to learn lessons from my class of 22 hormone-riddled, hyperactive fourteen year olds. Rambunctious! How I love that word!
