Running To Stand Still

I am glad to have a week off. Once upon a time there was a need to keep kids in school until right before the day of much feasting. It became apparent, when checking attendance statistics, that our district had so many absences in the three days leading up to the Thanking Day it made sense to just cut our losses and give up on the entire week. As a result, I have become familiar over the past few years with this new rhythm. So have the kids.
The example I use is our Wednesdays: We call them minimum days, but somehow they end up feeling just as long as any other. It's almost as if the children sense the approaching void and start to cram in all the angst, ennui and drama they can into the time we have together. That extra hour at the end of the day after they have been dismissed often feels like recovery more than respite. We teachers catch our collective breath and prepare for the next two days.
And so it goes with this week in November. Last week I found myself coaching PE, running laps with a bunch of fourth graders. I kept a slow but steady pace, but found myself passing by clumps of listless kids who seemed to have plenty of better things to do. I was attempting to lead by example, and exhorted them to push themselves and try a little harder. To run. Some of them did just that, while others simply slowed down out of what I can only assume was plain old stubbornness. Later that day, as I headed to lunch, I stopped short as a gaggle of girls came roaring around a corner. Some of the same group who had been dragging their feet as I ran alongside them. "Please don't run in the hallway," I said with as much authority as I could muster. They giggled, "Sorry, Mister Caven," and off they went.
It's all about the timing, and I think its about time we had a break.