It’s Hatch Day in our classroom! Eggs have been wobbling left and right, leaving me hopelessly indisposed for any kind of work.
I love this time of year.
We humans sometimes seem to have a hard time letting go of things, even things we'd rather be without. We hate emails, but we’re always checking it. We don’t like alarm clocks, but we grumblingly rouse ourselves out of bed anyway. Here in the South, I’ve found it especially funny that we like to outwardly bless the hearts of people we inwardly curse.
We’re just not good at chasing after joy.
But for me, nature has a unique way of beckoning me towards what is important.
Deep breaths. Meaningful silence. Eternal contemplations.
Today, it’s been remarkably easy to put aside my fruitless chase of Inbox Zero and just watch chicks peck their way out of an egg, one tired pip at a time. But more than that is the beauty of watching my students watch the eggs.
They are utterly captivated.
Since I knew the hatch could take place at any point in the day, I set up a camera for the kids to watch on livestream. They've been running up to me in the hallways, talking about how late they stayed up to watch.
Mimi came up to me and yelled, "Mrs. Choi! My mom told me to go to bed, so I had my iPad on under the covers and watched until midnight!"
I was hard-pressed between wagging a finger at her...and admitting I did the exact same thing last night.
Here are some real quotes from my students today -
From Max, when we still only had one hatchling in the incubator - “Will that chick get lonely and die of depression if it doesn’t have a friend soon?”
A fifth grader - "Oh my god. You guys. This is my life - B.C. means before chicks, and A.C. is after chicks."
Jax gasped when he saw it. “OH! Oh. I thought I was going to name you Dave, but you’re definitely a Bobby. Yup. You’re a Bobby.” Then he quietly cooed, “Welcome to the world, Bobby. You’re here now. You’re safe with us.”
A second grade boy who typically drips with terrific volume and energy crept up to the incubator and rested his head in his hands, sitting quietly and as still as a statue while another chick made its way out. Before today, I never understood when authors said someone's eyes were so wide that they appeared 'goggled', but boy was he goggled. I let him stay there awhile, not chatting or talking with him as I usually would. We just sat together, side by side, until a tired, newborn chick threw its eggshell top off and lay there panting his first breaths outside an egg. Junior gasped, then sighed. Finally, he whispered, “Hi kid. Welcome to the world. I’m your foster dad.”
Fourth grader - “Look at these poor frogs and crabs. They don’t get any love because the chicks are so popular.” Then he turned toward our African dwarf frogs and fiddler crabs. “Hi frogs. Hi crabs. I’m here to give you some love.” (Note: he’s the youngest of three, and mom has been worried that he sometimes doesn’t get a lot of air time and attention in the house with two garrulous older brothers. In all honesty, our anxious frogs probably love getting ignored, but I was deeply moved by his sophisticated sense of empathy.)
My favorite was when Mimi tugged on my sleeve and launched herself into my arms as soon as I turned around. “Mrs. Choi, I don’t know why, but I want to cry when I see that chick. Why am I crying? I’m happy! But I can’t stop crying!” And she was. Big, fat alligator tears were rolling down her face, aiming straight toward the biggest, sunniest smile I’d ever seen. My heart melted at this child experiencing her first big emotions, and I started to explain the concept of happy tears, but another student sympathetically put her hand on her shoulder and replied, “I know. I feel the same way.” They shared a tear-filled smile. And that was enough.
I also have a name suggestion box in the room. During lunch, I opened the box and started going through the stack of names. There are always some standbys like Fluffy, Nugget, and Cutie. This year, we've had Horny, Pecker, and Woodcreme.
Yup. In that order. Nope, I'm not making that up.
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