In my second grade class, my kids are each members of one of the "Groups of Doom" - the Zombies, Robots, Dinosaurs, and Pirates. I would have enjoyed "Harbingers of the Apocalypse" more, but three-syllable words are still something of a challenge for them.
Today my group leaders were in class during break to help set things up. As I wrote the warm-up on the board, I heard a loud smacking sound behind me. I turn to see one of the boys crouched in a post-cartwheel landing position on the ground, a huge grin spread across his face. Seeing that I was clearly pleased, the other boys took their turns showing off their mad cartwheeling skills. I nodded in approval at each attempt.
After the three boys had each shown off their talents, I waved them to the side, opening the clearing in the front of the room for myself. I took off my scarf and put it on the table, and tied up my cardigan so it wouldn't get hung up on anything. The boys' eyes went wide.
I executed a perfect front handspring, complete with arms, hands, and legs in finishing position. I turned back to the boys, whose jaws were all dropped.
"Alright. Off to break, boys."
They hurried out of the class in a pack, frantically whispering to one another in Arabic as they scurried out the door.
I imagine word of my feat spread over the break field like wildfire. By the fifth retelling, I'm sure I jumped ten feet in the air and flipped 17 times.
I swear, teaching little kids is like being a god among mortals.
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