Duty
On a beautiful morning, duty isn't all that bad. This morning, the birds were lightly chirping. There was just enough dew on the grass to stick tiny clippings to your shoe. My particular duty is on the playground with about 300 children all in dark, blue tops and khaki bottoms. The children stream in from an opening between the two creamy colored buildings. One by one, they either race across the expansive playground or walk to the nearest swing or table. Sometimes singly or with a group. The single students are looking out for their favorite friend who hasn't arrived yet, their face shows their concern.
It's my job to watch them all. Not totally my job alone. One duty teacher stands by the hall with the bathrooms in it and the other gets to walk in and out of the cafeteria to allow children in for breakfast. On a chilly day, that line can be quite long! My eyes scan the small groups of students milling around. I imagine myself like a secret service agent. I have to wear my sunglasses on the sunny days to avoid the possibility of a headache later.
My job is to look for peculiarities in motion, that's what I realized today. There, to the left of me, I see arms moving far faster than a child playing chase or walking with a friend. It takes a minute to see that this boy is acting out some memorable scene from his favorite video game or show. Nothing to worry about.
I remind myself to watch for when the chase "thing" gets too rough. Most of the time it's girls chasing boys because they were teased or taunted about their hair or purse. I also must keep a look out for purses swinging high in the air. For the most part, that is all I have to say to the girls. Occasionally, the tall skinny black girls can get a little fiesty. Unless it is really serious-looking, I usually stay back some. I have difficulty understanding what they say. I recall from May last year, a group of girls huddling around watching one little black girl. Boy, she had the moves! She was dancing to some tune known only to her. The last thing that you want is huddled students so I had to break up this little party. I have to admit, she was quite good for only being 4 foot high.
Huddles of boys require much more presence. They can be up to no good, what else could it be? It could be them just looking at a yearbook from another school. That is what happened one morning. Don't ask questions, just make sure they are not looking at something else that could be really inappropriate and walk off to another part of the playground.
Sometimes, you can stop to ask questions; sometimes I am asked questions. It's funny which children will seek you out every time you are on duty. You begin to recognize faces but don't know names. You begin to know just exactly which students need constant monitoring, which student needs an encourage word or smile and which students talk your ear off! Every few minutes, you scan the entire playground to make sure you aren't the only adult in charge. I breath a little sigh of relief when I spot the principal. She knows just what to do with those little black girls who talk in a different language.
The playground is one seam less roll of bodies, running, changing directions, walking, running more. Except on the periphery. The ball handlers. They seem to know a whole different rhythm than the rest. The familiar rubber ball thud on the concrete followed by the silent slap of a child's hand establishes the four-square games. Remember that game? There is usually two full four-square games and two two-square games going on at the same time. I am always amazed that so much can happen on the concrete slab littered with carelessly thrown booksacks in some random pattern on the ground. The students don't want to burdened with them, they just throw them down and run off to play leaving the square players more of a challenge.
Basketball was the sport of the year last year, this year four-square. Watching about 25 blue-topped ball handlers race back and forth between half court baskets is almost as exciting as a college game. I always wonder which child would become the high school champ in a few years. Watch that one! He is very deft with the ball but he doesn't hand it off much. Show-off! The taller one has the right moves, perhaps the next Michael Jordan. Don't these kids know what a jump ball is? There he goes wrestling the other down to the ground pulling the orange ball deep into his chest so the other guy can't get at it. How in the world do they know who is on what team? They all wear the same shirts!
I check my watch to see that there is about five minutes left to the recess. I could have told you that by the sudden change of atmosphere. Students seem to intuitively know what time it is and it always amazes me. It's like the pitch rises, the fervor increases and I'm worried that someone will truly get hurt about now. Emotions are high, it's the last two minutes before the bell. No one wants to go in, it's been such a lovely time. No one wants to line up, not after having full run of the playground.
Sometimes, I don't even hear the bell, I see tall, thin, heavy-set, almost grown up, half-blue and half-tan bodies all turn and walk towards their designated places, reluctantly, just short of little robots. Their flute-like voices still fill the air. I have to wait until all the students have been claimed by a teacher before I can enter the building. I stand there for a moment enjoying the birds again.
It's my job to watch them all. Not totally my job alone. One duty teacher stands by the hall with the bathrooms in it and the other gets to walk in and out of the cafeteria to allow children in for breakfast. On a chilly day, that line can be quite long! My eyes scan the small groups of students milling around. I imagine myself like a secret service agent. I have to wear my sunglasses on the sunny days to avoid the possibility of a headache later.
My job is to look for peculiarities in motion, that's what I realized today. There, to the left of me, I see arms moving far faster than a child playing chase or walking with a friend. It takes a minute to see that this boy is acting out some memorable scene from his favorite video game or show. Nothing to worry about.
I remind myself to watch for when the chase "thing" gets too rough. Most of the time it's girls chasing boys because they were teased or taunted about their hair or purse. I also must keep a look out for purses swinging high in the air. For the most part, that is all I have to say to the girls. Occasionally, the tall skinny black girls can get a little fiesty. Unless it is really serious-looking, I usually stay back some. I have difficulty understanding what they say. I recall from May last year, a group of girls huddling around watching one little black girl. Boy, she had the moves! She was dancing to some tune known only to her. The last thing that you want is huddled students so I had to break up this little party. I have to admit, she was quite good for only being 4 foot high.
Huddles of boys require much more presence. They can be up to no good, what else could it be? It could be them just looking at a yearbook from another school. That is what happened one morning. Don't ask questions, just make sure they are not looking at something else that could be really inappropriate and walk off to another part of the playground.
Sometimes, you can stop to ask questions; sometimes I am asked questions. It's funny which children will seek you out every time you are on duty. You begin to recognize faces but don't know names. You begin to know just exactly which students need constant monitoring, which student needs an encourage word or smile and which students talk your ear off! Every few minutes, you scan the entire playground to make sure you aren't the only adult in charge. I breath a little sigh of relief when I spot the principal. She knows just what to do with those little black girls who talk in a different language.
The playground is one seam less roll of bodies, running, changing directions, walking, running more. Except on the periphery. The ball handlers. They seem to know a whole different rhythm than the rest. The familiar rubber ball thud on the concrete followed by the silent slap of a child's hand establishes the four-square games. Remember that game? There is usually two full four-square games and two two-square games going on at the same time. I am always amazed that so much can happen on the concrete slab littered with carelessly thrown booksacks in some random pattern on the ground. The students don't want to burdened with them, they just throw them down and run off to play leaving the square players more of a challenge.
Basketball was the sport of the year last year, this year four-square. Watching about 25 blue-topped ball handlers race back and forth between half court baskets is almost as exciting as a college game. I always wonder which child would become the high school champ in a few years. Watch that one! He is very deft with the ball but he doesn't hand it off much. Show-off! The taller one has the right moves, perhaps the next Michael Jordan. Don't these kids know what a jump ball is? There he goes wrestling the other down to the ground pulling the orange ball deep into his chest so the other guy can't get at it. How in the world do they know who is on what team? They all wear the same shirts!
I check my watch to see that there is about five minutes left to the recess. I could have told you that by the sudden change of atmosphere. Students seem to intuitively know what time it is and it always amazes me. It's like the pitch rises, the fervor increases and I'm worried that someone will truly get hurt about now. Emotions are high, it's the last two minutes before the bell. No one wants to go in, it's been such a lovely time. No one wants to line up, not after having full run of the playground.
Sometimes, I don't even hear the bell, I see tall, thin, heavy-set, almost grown up, half-blue and half-tan bodies all turn and walk towards their designated places, reluctantly, just short of little robots. Their flute-like voices still fill the air. I have to wait until all the students have been claimed by a teacher before I can enter the building. I stand there for a moment enjoying the birds again.