I had a few today.
Moments, that is.
The kind where you really want to just pause and exhale – but there’s not actually time.
This need to maintain full speed functionality was caused by a combination of paint, art projects at various stages, and twenty-four students, one of whom had joined our class for the first time.
Art class.
It always looks innocent on my planner, it stays organized as the supplies are gathered and neatly placed on my back counter – but soon after that, any semblance of order fades.
My carefully planned strategy is replaced by one that is summed up in three words: Get. It. Done.
Okay, not quite that bad. I do have a strategy, but it tends to create a bustling vibe, because it involves delegation – and therefore multiple things are happening simultaneously.
Student volunteers move desks, pass out brushes, pour paint into palettes, and fill cups with water.
At the end of art class, they collect brushes and palettes, clean the aforementioned items, wash and replace the desks, and return all art supplies to the supply room.
It’s streamlined. It’s efficient. It’s beautiful.
And it’s somehow, always, crazy.
There’s no avoiding that feeling when you have a large group in a small space multi-tasking together.
I find it works best when I don’t attempt to do anything, but simply walk through the room, giving instructions, and delegating tasks as rapidly as the hands go up.
Why can’t I accomplish anything at the same time as my helpful students?
Because I am already well-occupied trying to keep my mouth caught up with my ears.
Yes, that’s right.
The Lord blessed me with two ears, but only one larynx, and I am therefore physically capable of hearing my name from multiple students at once, but only responding to them individually.
Today, I looked at the three who had each approached me from opposite directions and voiced my name at about the same time. And the two who instantly said it again because I had continued my mid-sentence instructions to the first.
And I shared with them this fascinating bit of news, that I’m physically incapable of answering them all simultaneously. They were highly amused, had fun pretending to be duly amazed, and probably thought I’m going crazy.
I wonder the same thing, sometimes.
I mispronounced the new student’s name after having specifically told my class before her arrival which pronunciation she prefers.
I apologized to her; she was not bothered, just noted that I had it correct originally and got it wrong in the middle of art class.
From across the room a student soothingly said, with a teasing twinkle in his eye, “It’s ok, we all have our moments.”
After we had finished laughing, I said, “Well, I think my brain has a few more moments when it’s trying to juggle a lot at once.”
Another student said, “We hear your name a lot in an art class. Do you ever think of that?”
(In 6 years of teaching? Believe it or not, yes, I’ve noticed. At times, I’ve imagined what it would be like to get a legal name change so I could hear something else. Or better yet, a name jar to draw from so I have constant variety. “For today’s art class, my name will be…” The students could even take turns pulling the name each week. Children love that sort of thing. Hey, they could just make up the – never mind. Scary thought. Imagination, we are stopping right there.)
I didn’t say all that. Instead I replied like a nice, calm teacher, that yes, I have noticed. It’s okay though, I enjoy art with all of you. I hope someday you each have the opportunity to paint with 24 students.
I should have known that technical 6th graders would have an immediate giggling response. “We are painting with 24 students, though, and my brain is managing fine!”
They know they can tease me and that I can return it. (I’m thankful for relationships with students that have healthy respect alongside good, friendly banter in a school day!)
To this I answered, “That is true! I have an idea. How about every time someone needs help or has a question, I would still answer them but they’d say your name instead of mine?”
My teasing 6th grader was speechless as he envisioned that scenario.
Suddenly, he burst out in horror, “I couldn’t handle that! If that happened, I would LEAVE!”
Well.
Maybe I’m doing okay after all.
I might not always feel perfectly calm in the hustle and bustle, but I can say that I have never decided to just LEAVE an art class.
I have made tea and clutched my mug as though it is the last link to my sanity as I walk from desk to desk. I have mentally envisioned myself juggling and tried to lean into the rhythm of it. Often I hum slow, gentle choral music to contrast the fast pace of the students I am existing among.
But I have never, ever, simply walked out the door and left the premises.
Not even when they apparently had named the paint palette Sam, and stood mournfully around the bucket where Sam was to be washed with12 other unnamed palettes.
A general wailing was heard from the back of the room as the student in charge washed Sam’s colours from him. “Goodbye, Sam, good byyyyyyyye!”
Don’t ask why.
They’re in 6th grade, I know.
But we ALL have our moments.
Notes from My Heartsong 