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What Happens if You Step on It?
- University Press of New England
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p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p p whathappensifyousteponit? Every teacher has “times.” Times when he is not sure he is getting through. Times when students repeatedly ask the same question because no one is listening. Times when the students don’t seem to be learning concepts that are eminently learnable. Times when lack of attendance burdens teacher as well as students with the onus of incomplete work. Such moments call for a fresh start, a clean slate; in other words, some form of renewal. clientele 10 p c l i e n t e l e I have found such reinvigoration in the talks I occasionally give to our youngest students in the elementary schools, as when I was once asked to speak to a roomful of first graders. The topic: Sea Creatures. I savored the opportunity to speak off the cuff without having to prepare anything resembling a lecture. And so I pulled together my specimens: octopi and crabs encased in plastic blocks; a plaster model of a lamprey eel; a dried-out sea urchin; the actual saw from a sawfish . . . All of them went—plop!—into the box until I had a grab bag of curiosities. There were about thirty munchkins in the group. I could feel the heat of their enthusiasm as I approached the room. One of their teachers, Mrs. White, had managed to corral them into their desks and was gently instructing them on how to behave during my presentation. To no avail. When I appeared in the doorway with my box, they jumped to their feet and swamped me. I felt like a long-lost relative from the old country. They were all over me, their hands in the box, grabbing my arms, begging for attention. One little girl pleaded incongruously, “My father fixes pipes!” I threw Mrs. White a helpless glance and she quickly interceded . The kids were soon sitting on their little bottoms again, but were by no means glued to the floor. They bounced for recognition , waving their hands desperately for a chance to speak. After a short preamble, I proceeded to see how much general knowledge about marine life these kids had, so I could get a feeling for their level of understanding. After all, most of them were only six years old. And so I posed the question, “Can anybody name a sea creature that’s not a fish?” Every hand went up, each one punctuated with the word, “Me!” It was a sea of “me”s. “Me! Me! Oh, please! Me!” I gathered myself for inevitable answers like “rock” and “hippopotamus ,” finally calling on a little boy in the back of the room. “Do you have one?” I asked. He stood up and declared, “Zooplankton!” [3.239.59.193] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 02:26 GMT) What Happens if You Step on It? p 11 Whoa. I had clearly underestimated my clientele. Okay, then. Let’s go on to the specimens. I reached into my box of tricks and pulled out a preserved sea urchin. Once again, every hand shot up (“Oh, me! Me!”). Struggling to make my points against the exertions of the straining mass before me, I described the urchin ’s anatomy, where it was found, and its habits. “Any questions ?” I asked. I acknowledged a little girl in the front row. “Yes?” She stared in wonder at the urchin and asked, “What happens if you step on it?” “Well,” I said, “it has spines, so you could hurt your foot.” The next specimen, a juvenile dogfish shark, elicited nigh pandemonium. After my comments I once again solicited questions . A little boy with a dense mask of freckles asked, “What happens if you step on it?” I glanced at Mrs. White with faux exasperation. “You’ll hurt your foot,” I said, “because this shark has a spine on its fin.” And so the pattern was set. Specimen after specimen, from jellyfish to mussels to hermit crabs, the most pressing question was, “What happens if you step on it?” I finally held my hand up and pronounced a dictum for a change of direction. “Okay, my friends, we’ve finished with asking what happens if you step on it. Our challenge now is to think of a new question to ask. All right?” Nods all around. I reached into my box and pulled out a magnificent preserved skate in a large, flat block of plastic. Oohs...