Sometimes The Magic Works...

Last week about this time I was miserable. I had suspended two boys from my class for different and uniquely ridiculous behavior. The first was for throwing rocks at another student. The second was for fighting. Not the usual fourth grade chest thumping, but actual fisticuffs. This came on the heels of the standard "If you don't improve your behavior, you won't be allowed to go on the field trip next week" lecture. They both got a day off, and came back the next day as contrite as any ten year old boy ever gets.
The new week began, and neither boy had managed to return their permission slip to be allowed to go on the trip. I figured there was a measure of self-selection involved, so I didn't push the matter. Yesterday at the end of school, both of them asked me if they could still come if their mothers, respectively, signed their forms.
Should I have made it a hard line, and told them that they had missed the cutoff and there was no way I could take them along on such short notice? We were going to visit the shoreline park to watch birds, examine plankton, and investigate native and non-native plants. If they stayed home, they would watch another six hours of Cartoon Network. I told them I would bring them along if they showed up with signatures.
They both managed to deliver. Getting on the bus, I was a little concerned as I watched the two of them, bobbing in and out of the throng that is the rest of the fourth grade. Could they maintain for the whole day? Would I be stuck with the two of them, sitting on a curb while we waited for their parents to come and pick them up? Or worse, would they erupt and when I called their parents, I might only get the polite voice-mail message as I restrain them.
None of that happened. Instead, from the moment they got off the bus, they were fascinated by the world around them. Being in nature absolutely brought the best out of them. The rock thrower was fascinated by the plankton swimming in his petri dish. The fighter stepped off the bus, and immediately began taking notes - shocking his teacher who generally has to beg him to write complete sentences on his weekly reading test. It was, for lack of a better metaphor, like magic.
At the end of the day, when the bus dropped us off at the front the school, I took a moment to congratulate both of these young men for their attention and composure. It made me wish for a program that would get all these kids out into the world on a regular basis. Could I teach my class outside every day? I know the reality. I know that it is the specialness that made the moment, and the challenge is to keep as many days as the system will allow special. I had that Grinch-swelling-heart feeling that sometimes comes with a good day teaching.
After school I was talking with another teacher when a third grader ran up to inform me that my fighter was down the street, living up to his reputation. I thought about rushing off and pulling him out of harm's way. I thought about all the things I could do to save him. I thought about how sometimes the magic works, and sometimes it doesn't.