Lord of the Dance

Once a teacher's pet, always a teacher's pet... even when said teacher is in charge of your preschooler's education, not yours. My almost-straight A's past honed my instincts to please and respect all teachers, and I can't shake the habit, even in my 30s.   
  
Needless to say, I was never on a teacher's black list, and so far, my kids have flown under the radar, too.

Until this morning.

Like a horror film, the scene unfolded like this:  As I was hugging Joey goodbye at the door to his classroom, and instructing him to hang up his backpack, Miss Kristi hurried over, caught my eye and arched her eyebrows... in greeting? in annoyance that we were five minutes late?... and then actually ducked out of the chaos of her classroom to meet me in the hallway. And then she shut the door behind her.

I immediately broke out into a cold sweat and felt like I was in the principal's office. If I hadn't been carrying a 50-pound baby seat in the crook of one arm, and juggling car keys and coffee in the other arm, I would have been sure I was back in junior high.

"Do you have time to talk?" asked Miss Kristi.

I looked nervously behind me, and realized the mayhem of drop-off was over, and we were alone in the hallway. A hundred different plausible reasons for this tete-a-tete floated through my head ...all bad, and all centered on Joey's rocky relationship with two boys in his class. Had they finally come to blows?

"Sure," I said, as I mentally resigned to removing Joey from Tae Kwon Do and confiscating every plastic gun, sword and knife in the house.

"I just wanted to share a story with you from last Friday," began Miss Kristi. "I'm not sure if you know this, but every Friday, after clean-up, we have about fifteen minutes of free dance time. I bring in a different CD each week, sometimes salsa, sometimes opera, sometimes classical. It's always different, and most of the children enjoy it."

She paused pointedly.

Oh no, I thought. Please, God, I hope Joey didn't make an un-PC comment about dance.

But he did.

"Joey always says dancing is for girls," continued Miss Kristi. "Which is fine. He's content to just sit and watch the dancing.

"But last Friday was very different. I brought in Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance, and as soon as he heard the first chords, something changed in Joey. He slowly straightened his shoulders and stood up -- no, he actually arose -- as if pulled up by an invisible string, and it was absolutely amazing to watch. One of his feet kicked out, and then the other, and then he was off, charging, leaping, kicking, completely propelled by the music. It was as if he had one invisible sword in each hand, and he was unstoppable. For three or four songs, he was in a different world.

"And then he came back to us. As if he was returning from war. And he was so sweaty and excited, and he said to me, 'Miss Kristi, I've never done anything like that before!' It was one of the coolest moments I've ever had as a teacher. Miss Jill and I were blown away, and I went home and told this story to my husband. You just never know what is going to ignite them."

Yes, Miss Kristi really is that poetic and descriptive. I hurried home and couldn't wait to write her story down so I wouldn't forget this magical moment... Joey dancing and Miss Kristi sharing.