The Mystery Of The Elastic Clock

My Cheerful Teaching Assistant came into the classroom this morning and announced (cheerily) that she is starting to get "that Christmas feeling." I started to scoff at the very idea of holiday happiness at this early date and gave serious consideration to taking her cheer level down a notch or two. Just on general principle, you see.

But, then it hit me. It is November. It is not unreasonable for anyone to start looking ahead a wee bit and getting a little of the festive-ness on board. Last I knew, it was August. How the heck did we get to this place?

A little while later, I happened to glance up at the clock and was surprised to note that it was almost 11:00. Even my Cheerful Teaching Assistant was surprised by that. Where did the morning go?

At noontime, I was standing in the classroom doing my teaching/eating lunch trick that I have perfected over the years. As I poured myself a nice bowl of cereal from a box that featured the word, "FIBER" in letters bigger than my head, then doused the whole mess with non-fat soy milk, I couldn't help but wonder just when it was that I turned that corner. I seem to recall chuckling at the fibery, dairy-free and lackluster lunches that my older colleagues used to sigh over in the teacher's room. How is it that I am suddenly a featured player in "Salute to Bowel Health" Dinner Theater?

At 1:00 in the afternoon, my Cheerful Teaching Assistant and I looked wearily at the clock. I was beyond caring at that point, frankly. There was a lot to do this afternoon and many, many children who did not feel the urge to participate in our efforts to get it all done. Apparently, they are all enjoying their respective placements in fifth and sixth grade and do not want to be bothered with that pesky little tradition of moving from grade to grade in a progression that will one day allow them to be free from the public school system. My CTA, however, still had a little bit of energy in reserve. She is a young thing, still able to remember where she left her car keys and what her high school GPA was. As such, she had the will to cry:

Oh, my God! 1:00? I figured it had to be at least 3:00!!!! This is insane! Why won't the clock move??????


The whole day was nothing short of a warp in the time/space continuum and flew in the face of every theory to which we currently ascribe with regard to the forward movement of the minutes. The clock raced frantically. The clock slowed to a snail's pace. Sometimes, it just stopped completely.

Maybe it could use some of that gigantic box 'o FIBER that graces my lunch table each day.

Some things, however, remain constant. This is probably for the best, since I need something to provide me with a frame of reference. When you can't count on the clock or the calendar, look to the scarf. That, if nothing else, is moving along at a predictable pace.

Granted, that pace is slow. Much slower than I would like, given the apparent proximity of Christmas day.

But, it is a constant. This is a good thing. Otherwise, I'd have nothing upon which to base my life's routine. I might miss important things.

Like the scheduled consumption of the FIBER.

SA