These ducks live in that culvert, and likely have a nest nearby. Being fond of them, the hammer made me a little uneasy so I threw on a sweatshirt and walked outside. As I stepped outside, hammer-boy launched his missile toward "my" mallard. My body got a shot of adrenaline and my heart went up to my throat. Somewhere inside of me, Hulk raged to get out and tear those kids a new one, verbally or otherwise.
But I'm working to be a better me all the time. "Hulk" is a long ways in my past, but "asshole" is a little closer to the surface. But I credit my experience and knowledge teaching with what happened next.
"HEY." This was my manliest, firmest teacher voice. They all stopped dead in their tracks and stood at attention. They remained still as I covered the 100 feet between them and me, seriously but not threateningly keeping my eyes on them. I stopped about 10 feet short of them.
"Hey guys, those ducks live around here and they've got a nest that's going to have babies soon. If you kill those ducks with that hammer, those babies won't have any parents to take care of them." This was my quiet, focused, "you just fucked up bad, but I still love you" teacher voice.
Their expressions changed from Lord of the Flies to cute-and-cuddly, we-love-baby-animals.
"You guys don't want that do you?" "No!"
Now I'm smiling. Where do you guys live? What are you doing with that dead rabbit carcass (mmm hmmm)? Do you know what kinds of animals might want to eat that? Etc.
They waved goodbye and ran off to their house, heads, pride, and tears intact. They're just kids. They just needed a helping hand in the right direction. Yeah, I'm tootin' my own horn. I'm proud of myself. Because I. Was. Pissed. :)
Now, I'm sitting here wondering if a dad will come shoot me. Thanks, Brownback.
Homework. Hoops. Lesson plans. 21 days until I'm a Master of Education. On paper anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment