My Real Life

I have four children.

I have been a teacher for 19 years.

It goes without saying that I have attended more than my, heck, more than anyone’s, fair share of school events over the years.

They all blend together – the concerts, the art shows, the book fairs, the science fairs.

I have memories of my kids participation, but, for the most part, you seen one, you seen ’em all.

Until yesterday.

Monkey in the Middle is in third grade, and yesterday his class created a “Wax Museum.”

Each student researched a famous person, wrote a biography and then adopted their persona, complete with costume.

I walked into the gym and the third graders were lined up against the walls, with a second circle of them in the center of the gym.

Next to each child was a music stand on which sat the biography they had written, as well as an index card with a red button on it labeled “Push Me.”

I was one of the first parents to walk into the gym and that gym was was silent.

All of these 9 year olds were standing, perfectly still, in a variety of poses, appropriate to their persona.

I scanned the gym, found Monkey in the Middle and headed over.

I pressed the “button” and immediately he straightened and began to speak.

“My name is Neil Armstrong…” and then went into a lovely biography of the man.

When he was done, he said, “Thank you,” and returned to his original position, awaiting the next person to come and hear his story.

I went to child after child and they all did the same thing.

I loved it.

They all had a bit of a different twist, but they were fantastic.

I met Neil Armstrong, Jackie Robinson, Nelson Mandela, Coretta Scott King, Gloria Estefan, Steve Jobs, Sacajawea, Elvis Presley, and the list goes on and on.

A gym full of nine year olds, quite frankly, can be a scary thing.

This gym full of nine year olds was absolutely surprising and delightful.

And, imagine…me…the mother of an astronaut.