When I was in the 6th grade, I remember a science lesson where we were asked to identify and distinguish a crocodile from an alligator. I didn’t balk much at school lessons, I guess because I liked most of them, but this one, even to me, seemed ridiculous.
I remember missing the question on the exam, and being very disgruntled about the fact that I was being asked to learn such useless information. For some reason that escapes me now, I thought if it seemed silly to me that surely my teacher would agree and add the points back to my test grade. So I asked her. Somewhere in my mind I guess it didn’t connect that she had created the silly question to begin with.
Now, I wouldn’t have considered myself a smart aleck back then, at least not in school, but I remember the response that I gave when my offer was declined. It was definitely bordering on fresh. It was something along the lines of, “You know, if I ever see a crocodile or an alligator up close, all I’m going to do is run. I certainly won’t be stopping to check out the shape of his nose or the length of his tail.” I can’t remember for sure, but I think that got me a trip to the hall.
If someone had told me then, that there would truly be a time in my life where I’d need to know the difference between crocs and gators, I’d certainly have laughed out loud. But now, 23 years after the science lesson to which I objected, I found my self grappling to explain the difference.
Saturday morning, after distributing milk and “gam ca ca’s”, Cooper, Brisco, and I sat down to enjoy an episode of Little Einstein’s. This week, the big-headed, music-loving, geniuses were on a mission to rescue a bird from a swamp. And what creepy creature did they encounter in the swamp but a crocodile. No an alligator…no a…a…
Oh great. I should have known better than to sit down with my children and watch a kid show with the name “Einstein” in it. During what other Saturday morning cartoon would I ever be forced to expose to my children that a miniature maestro who hides a conductor’s baton in his britches is smarter than their mother?!
But it was too late. Upon seeing the creature, Cooper perked up, pointed to the television and said, “Look, Mom, a crocodile!” I responded with, “Well, it sure is, Cooper. Good job!” Just then, the smart little twit on tube yelled, “Watch out! It’s an alligator!”
From that point forward, it mattered not what happened to that poor dodo bird. The rest of the episode was drowned out with questions of, “Why isn’t that a crocodile?” and “I thought that was a crocodile?” and “I thought that wasn’t an alligator?”
No answer that I gave seemed to satisfy, and oddly, I found myself wishing I had a more thorough explanation; one that seemed to make sense to his three-year old mind. I guess I should have listened to Mrs. Hamm after all.
It’s always funny to me the things that can trigger memories from our childhood: songs, smells, reminiscing with an old friend. Who’d have thought watching Saturday morning cartoons would trigger such a miniscule detail from my youth?
Makes me wonder what my kids are going to remember. Basketball in the bedroom? Popsicles on the back porch? Spankings on the front stoop of the church building? Whichever stands out in their memories most, I hope they can take with it some lesson for their own children.
I guess kids have a way of doing that: making us look more closely at ourselves, our lives, our past. They help us learn things about ourselves we should have known years ago. Help us do things differently. Make us want to be better.
I still don’t know the difference between a crocodile and an alligator, but I bet in a couple of years, my son can teach me.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
No comments:
Post a Comment