Friday, March 6, 2015
My father was always punctual. He left plenty of time (sometimes a few extra hours) to get somewhere, accounting for any natural disaster or blown tire that may have attempted to thwart his journey to get anywhere on time.
I have a job that requires precision timing. In normal circumstances, I set a timer for each lesson with a student. Throughout each period with students, I pace the lesson to ensure that I get everything in. Like my father, I am normally on time, yet I leave little wiggle room for the unexpected. I go with the flow.
Just the other day, I got into big trouble. My students and I were so engaged in what we were doing during our reading session that time management held no place in my brain. It was like the three of us were transported to a strange land, privy to wonderment and curiosity. Our brains were deliciously full and satisfied. That is until their teacher, me came to.
I glanced at the clock, mouth gaping opened; I could barely formulate the words of warning. "Ahhh, you boys are ten minutes late to lunch! Hurry, and... and... I am so sorry."
Most lunch folk I have known in decades of working in public schools have a reputation. My heels clicked down the hall in a pace that meant don't get in my way. "It's my fault," I added as the three of us walked toward the cafeteria, "I'll apologize."
Today during our lesson, I wore an over-sized wrist watch. "Why does your watch have such big numbers?" one student queried.
"It keeps me out of trouble." I replied smiling. If it were only that easy.