Six Year-Olds Notice Everything!

The children at the school I work at continue to amaze and surprise me, as well as make me laugh. And the best part? They're usually not afraid to ask questions that don't pertain to school work. Nor are they afraid to say what they think.

"I like you skunk, Mr. Haworth," one of my students said recently.
"What skunk," I asked him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"Your skunk," he continued, pointing above my head. "In your picture!"

Way back at the beginning of the school year, I painted a ceiling tile to go up in the hallway by the office. The new hires are encouraged to paint a ceiling tile with something personal, inspirational or both. I'm not sure which mine is, but it seems to garner some attention with the kids. It depicts several people with watering cans watering plants under the sun. In the middle is one guy laying back against a tree, daydreaming, with his watering can on the ground at his side.

"That's not a skunk," I told him, noticing the amazing resemblance to a skunk. "It's actually a watering can."

In hindsight, I wish I had just smiled and thanked him. He seemed so excited to have figured out what the ink blob in the middle of the scene was.

Later that same day, one of the girls made a startling observation about me..

"You're white, Mr. Haworth," she said. It was a statement. I heard something close to amazement in her voice as she said it.
"Well...  Umm..  Yeah," I replied, at a loss for words. "I guess I am."

We've got about 30 days of school left. I was amazed that it took her so long to realize this fact and then bring it up to me.

"Why are you white, Mr. Haworth," she asked.

I looked into her eyes, hoping to detect some humor in the comment. I found none. My brain raced with numerous comments and ways to approach the question that would be tactful, caring and informative.

"Umm," I stammered. "Well... I... Umm."
"I mean, it's all over your face," she added.
"It's what," I replied.
"Right around here," she said, tracing her finger over the right side of my face.

It looks as though I'm going to have to be more careful with my spray paint as I help build props. It seems to have a way of coming back and adhering to me!

Most recently, another girl was analyzing my ID badge with my photo on it. She looked up at me and back and the picture. She spent a good 60 seconds with this little exercise before relaying her discovery.

"This my be an old picture of you, Mr. Haworth," she announced. "You look GOOD in this picture."

Perhaps I've let myself go a bit since last August, when the picture was taken. Perhaps I need to give myself more time in the morning to clean up and get ready for school. Whichever, my son said not to worry since she probably forgot her glasses that day.

Kite-Surfing Is Fun, but Hard on the Back

I woke up yesterday in pain. Severe pain, in fact. It seemed to start right between my shoulder blades and shot straight down to the small of my back. Throughout the day, I made enough noise about it to elicit comments of concern from my son. He was very sweet, saying things like "Don't worry, Dad, I'll take care of your camera when you're gone," and "Mom and I will sure miss your cooking."

Before I even got out of bed, though, I had to figure out what happened. My first thought was that I had overslept. Sometimes when I sleep more than eight hours, my back will get extremely stiff. But that usually only affects my lower back and not the upper part. Then I remembered my dream.

I had the most amazing dream that I was kite-surfing! The wind filled my kite-sail and sent me skimming over the surface of an indoor ocean (I know, go figure on that one). Normally my back can't handle strain like that and I remember, in my dream, thinking, "wow, this isn't hurting my back at all!" Each time I stopped or fell, I laughed it off. My back was strong as ever! I could do this! I told my wife all about my amazing dream. Then I told her of my aching back. So realistic!

Thank God I married a smart woman and have an extremely smart child. They tend to keep me grounded. My wonderful wife woke up and looked at me for a few moments. No doubt she was weighing my words carefully, mulling over the meaning of them. After a bit, she spoke.

"Your back hurts because you've been painting the graveyard fence with your mother," she told me. "You've probably been stooped over painting the bottom section and now your back is hurting. Take some ibuprofen and call me in the morning. Tomorrow morning."

Somehow, I had forgotten all about that. I thought about it for a few moments. I balked at her silliness and vowed to try not to dream of kite-surfing again in the future. It sure hurts.