It's what all we teachers live to experience. It's that day when all our ducks seem to be in a row, when we're sure we're delivering an incredible lesson. It's the ego booster, the nod from the crowd that we're doing everything right. If we were comedians, we'd be 'hot'. We'd be 'on'. It's when we feel like were born for the job...until we notice the boy (in this case) staring off into the land of X-Box or Wii or hockey or....
"What were you thinking about?", I ask as Grade five boy momentarily rouses out of his reverie. "Uhhh, nothin'", he replies in a dozy voice, and blinks his eyes a few times. "Nothing?" I ask. "Uh, gee" budding Einstein (and I say that only slightly sarcastically, because I know better) adds, "if I was thinking about something, I can't remember." And then, "No," he says with assurance after contemplating a bit, "nothing." And I believe him.
A few Monday mornings ago, the staff room was bustling with the usual choruses of "Hi, how was your weekend?" Each teacher, as is the ritual, proudly took her turn (there aren't enough male teachers in my school to warrant a 'his or her') rhyming off a laundry list of activites (including laundry, by the way) completed over the forty-eight hours since we had watched every second tick until the bell signifying the end of the work week rang in glory.
In the midst of this reporting, one teacher crowed (thereby inspiring this posting), "Doesn't it make you feel great knowing you've accomplished so much over the weekend?" All I could do was to sit with my hand cupped in my chin and wonder to myself, Hmmm, I'm not so sure. After all, what's so wrong with doing absolutely nothing?
Mind you, mea culpa, I'm as guilty as everyone else. When it's my turn, I talk about how much I cooked, how much I drove, how many people I hosted for how many meals, how many hours I cleaned or shopped or did school work. And, oh the school work! Report card time becomes the Belmont Stakes of who does the most over the weekend, because the mounds of after-hours school work become top of the list items, adding to the potential list of accomplishments. It's a sick, depraved, sordid competition of who did the most work on our supposed time off, the reward being arriving at work on Monday bearing bragging rights, but also being more exhausted than when we left on Friday. So, why is doing a lot so desirable? Should we be admonishing ourselves if we accomplish nothing during our down time?
Idle hands may be the Devil's tools but all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. It seems to me that over working by adults and over programming for children (arranged by over working adults) is counter productive. I have yet to see how either proves to be healthy. It is not unusual to see a child who has been at school all day, partake in some after school sports activity, which is then followed by eating a 'quick' dinner in the car so that she can get from her swimming class to her ballet lesson (and do her homework while holding her sandwich in the back seat) and then back home in time for her tutor, a bath, and fifteen minutes to practise her piano before she can relax for her mandatory ten minutes of reading before bed. Yes, children are buoyant. But I think too much overprogramming robs a child of many important skills.
I'm a big proponent of routine for children. I think they not only need it, but crave it. Too many things in a routine, however, is in my opinion, taxing, overloading and overwhelming. When too much of the day is programmed, a child loses the opportunity to play quietly alone. I find it fascinating to see how many children have great difficulty occupying themselves when they find they have nothing to do. They quickly resort to a screen of some type. Imaginary play breeds creativity, and I wonder if what children really need is fewer programmed activities and more time to slow down, ponder and play.
We grown ups who did not grow up with cellphones and all the assortment of berries that are out there are now being urged to be accessible 24/7. I admonish myself for taking a cellphone with me when I go for a walk. Yes, yes, I need it for protection. That's what I tell myself. But the truth is, society expects everyone to be accessible. When did that happen? And what has happened to cause us to believe that in order for us to be fine, upstanding people, we must be actively engaged in a responsible activity every waking moment of the day? Why is it not only acceptable but desirable to multi-task? How many of us are actually embarrassed to admit that we take the time to watch an hour of TV and not fold laundry, cook or do some sort of household task at the same time, because that would be admitting that we're being unproductive?
As the demands of the day and demands of technology overcome and overwhelm us, I remember with fondness the woman who lived in the house across the street from me when I was growing up. She used to announce that she was going to sit in her 'do nothing' chair for a few minutes. As a child, I thought it was odd that this lady, who baked and cooked and doted over her husband and three daughters openly relished being so lazy. Actually, she wasn't being lazy at all. She was simply allowing herself the luxury of doing 'nothing' for a few minutes to revitalize herself before taking on the demands of her day. In retrospect, I think this woman was quite brilliant.
To quote Phoebe Gilman's book title, I think that we should all take some time to make Something from Nothing. Whether it's taking a moment to phone a friend or read the newspaper or maybe just sitting on a do-nothing chair for a few moments to reward ourselves for a hard day's work, 'nothing' really can be 'something'.
Do you know where there's a sale on do-nothing chairs?
No comments:
Post a Comment