Week Seven: October 5th

"Oh my God, he's crazy!"

Over the years, I have heard this phrase more than a few times, mostly from adults or adolescents. I especially hear it when doing shows at the zoo at Halloween. Rarely do I hear it from one of my students.

Monday morning, in the classroom debut of "The Stingray," a nod to our younger daughter (Adelai) and her favorite animal, we sat down in front of the classroom to do a read-aloud. Of late, this has become our routine, as has the Monday status-check on the beard.

It was clear the students were confused this time, as they could not ascertain the meaning of the wide hair-spread on the chin. One girls swooped in to save the day, noting, "Mr. Chisholm, um, you missed a spot of hair under your neck there."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. It's right there."

"No, that's the Stingray's tail."

That drew some collective murmurs and more confusion. So, like a good teacher, I pointed out the stingray's head, above my upper lip; his wings, splayed out to the sides of my cheeks and jaw; his tail, running in a narrow band along my throat and Adam's Apple; and his stinger, jutting off to the side of my neck in not-so-menacing fashion.

The more I pointed out, the more the kids' eyes goggled. Was I a person who actually thought these things through before doing them? The wheels were spinning: You mean he does these things on purpose? After a moment of silence, they all looked around to see who would speak first.

One rather quiet girl near the back of the group, whose lip already had curled back in semi-disgust, turned to her nearest neighbor and, in a desperate whisper of realization uttered those words, perhaps for the first time: "Oh my God, he's crazy!"

I don't know how many of them heard her, but a few seconds later the assembled group erupted into simultaneous discussion--everyone talking and no one really listening. The flood of surprise and words gushed through the Monday morning calm, and I simply opened the book and began reading aloud.