On Friday morning Ethan and I got dressed and ready—which took approximately 2.5 hours, 2 of which I spent pretending to leave the house alone so Ethan would agree to put his pants on, only to have him repeatedly feint at the last second. By 11 o'clock we were ready to leave the house. We were going to a local elementary school to meet Noah and about 150 fifth-graders for an end-of-program pizza party.
I haven't been in an elementary school for quite some time, but this one smelled exactly like all elementary schools smell: a distinct combo of tater tots, bleach, and kid farts. But this school was different from the one I went to; for one thing, it wasn't enclosed by a six-foot-high chainlink fence. Although there were security measures in place, nobody batted an eye when Ethan and I went traipsing around the campus in circles trying to find our way from the fifth-grade podland back to the parking lot.
Noah's a good teacher, I already knew that. Call it post-motherhood hormones or whatever (no seriously, my Hardcore Monica Geller-esque Competitive Drive has been somewhat dampened since becoming a mother, because I'm suddenly aware that all humans are some woman's baby) but my heart runneth over when 150 kids cheered for Noah during the farewell assembly. I might have thrown myself into the aisle and wept, except he'd arranged for a K9 unit to come for a demonstration, and we were instructed to stay in our seats and refrain from sudden movements.
Later that day, we perused the handmade thank-you cards they gave Noah, and let me tell you a child's artwork says a lot about the kid's personality. For instance, we could tell that three or four kids had been sitting next to each other (and that they'd recently had a lesson on stippling) based on the rainbow of colored dots covering their cards. More than one kid claimed Noah had taught them everything they know about drugs (apparently they haven't covered irony in literature yet), while others shared some wizened proverbs: "A job is a job, and you gotta go when you gotta go," said one boy, while another genially wrote, "Good luck, Ol' Blue."
I know the teachers appreciate him, too. Not only does he give them a break from teaching for a while, let's just say his new workout regime has become evident of late. Bow chicka bow wow.
P.S. Check out my "About Me" page. I finally wrote it.