Deep Philosophy
Today I had some pretty in-depth dicussions with one of my lower-functioning students.
"Ohhhh, Miz Blind," he said, drawling my name out as we walked down the hall to my office.
"Ohhhh, Huberto," I replied, doing the same. I glanced at him and noticed that he was banging into the lockers as we went.
"Don't bang into the lockers, you'll give yourself a bruise," I said, tugging on his cuff to steer him away from the wall.
"I'm being a train," he said.
I looked at the kid, a good six inches taller than me, quite broad and also quite determined to pretend he was a train. It was a weird sight. "What do trains travel on?" I asked.
"Tracks," he responded promptly.
"And tracks go on the ground," I responded, "not on the wall."
"And trains never fly," he said solemnly.
"That's extremely true," I said, pointing at him for emphasis. "You're absolutely right that they don't fly."
Once we were in my office we talked about the warm weather we'd been having and the things you could do outside. He mentioned that he enjoyed playing baseball, but had to be very careful to hit the ball away from the sun, lest he hit the sun and break it. Now, this seemed too imaginative for him to have thought of it himself, so I figured that someone had told him that story. However, even if someone had told him that he couldn't go through life thinking that the sun was the fragile little thing always in danger of being broken, so I tried to explain to him that the sun was bigger than a baseball. Luckily I had some scale pictures of the planets hanging on my office wall, and once we determined that a baseball was smaller than the Earth, and the Earth was smaller than the Sun, I figured the next logical conclusion would be...
"So which is smaller, the sun or a baseball?"
"The...ah...um...sun?"
"Let's go through it again."
We went back and forth for awhile, but eventually the discussion culminated in him flicking a tiny piece of paper (a baseball) at me (the sun) to prove that something so large couldn't be broken by something so small. I think he understood. Or, at least, he was willing to accept what I was saying so we could move on and play Uno.
Sometimes I wonder about my job.
"Ohhhh, Miz Blind," he said, drawling my name out as we walked down the hall to my office.
"Ohhhh, Huberto," I replied, doing the same. I glanced at him and noticed that he was banging into the lockers as we went.
"Don't bang into the lockers, you'll give yourself a bruise," I said, tugging on his cuff to steer him away from the wall.
"I'm being a train," he said.
I looked at the kid, a good six inches taller than me, quite broad and also quite determined to pretend he was a train. It was a weird sight. "What do trains travel on?" I asked.
"Tracks," he responded promptly.
"And tracks go on the ground," I responded, "not on the wall."
"And trains never fly," he said solemnly.
"That's extremely true," I said, pointing at him for emphasis. "You're absolutely right that they don't fly."
Once we were in my office we talked about the warm weather we'd been having and the things you could do outside. He mentioned that he enjoyed playing baseball, but had to be very careful to hit the ball away from the sun, lest he hit the sun and break it. Now, this seemed too imaginative for him to have thought of it himself, so I figured that someone had told him that story. However, even if someone had told him that he couldn't go through life thinking that the sun was the fragile little thing always in danger of being broken, so I tried to explain to him that the sun was bigger than a baseball. Luckily I had some scale pictures of the planets hanging on my office wall, and once we determined that a baseball was smaller than the Earth, and the Earth was smaller than the Sun, I figured the next logical conclusion would be...
"So which is smaller, the sun or a baseball?"
"The...ah...um...sun?"
"Let's go through it again."
We went back and forth for awhile, but eventually the discussion culminated in him flicking a tiny piece of paper (a baseball) at me (the sun) to prove that something so large couldn't be broken by something so small. I think he understood. Or, at least, he was willing to accept what I was saying so we could move on and play Uno.
Sometimes I wonder about my job.
posted by Danulai at
7:13 PM
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