Monday, February 25, 2008

I Think I May Have Made an Enemy of His Football-Coach Father, Though.

One of the boys I work with requested that I teach him how to knit. Knowing full well that giving seven-year-old boys pointy sticks falls somewhere between "naming your kid Adolf" and "rattlesnake jump rope" on the Bad Idea scale, I substituted something readily available in our classroom for needles:

After a couple of false starts, he really took to the task.

Nevertheless, (having taught kids with short attention spans how to knit before), I didn't expect his interest to last beyond the end of the day.

Fast-forward a week. It's a half-hour before the school bell is going to ring. A handful of seven- and eight-year-old boys are gathered around a table. Building with Legos? Folding paper airplanes? Let's listen to their leader:

"First the bunny goes out of his hole, then he runs around the tree. Then he goes back in the hole. Then he knocks off a branch..."

I'm so proud.

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