This morning, on our first day back from Winter Break, our class sat in a circle ready to play a game we call “Two Truths and a Lie.” For this morning’s edition of the game, each person wrote down 2 truths and 1 lie about what he or she did over break and then the rest of the class had to guess which statement was the lie. My students know I’ve run several marathons, but I stuck to short and easy runs over the past two weeks, so I was sure my three statements would trick them:
Over break I…
1. Baked a lot of cookies
2. Walked on the Golden Gate Bridge
3. Ran 20 miles
As a my students held up 1, 2, or 3 fingers, Hector, sitting directly across from me on the couch experienced his not-unusual diarrhea of the mouth.
To no one in particular, but loud enough for everyone, he blurted out, “Number three is the lie. Run 20 miles? A woman can’t do that.”
My eyebrows shot a few inches up my forehead while 26 students sucked in a collective gasp (I later reflected upon this and was thankful for their joint shock at the statement.) Rather than rant or rave, I find that a calm seriousness really is most effective and helps everyone to sit up a little straighter in this type of situation.
“Oh really Hector?” I asked. “Women can’t run 20 miles?” At this point I think the class is waiting for some real fireworks. They should know by now, that’s not my style. “I find that interesting,” I continued, “because I myself have done that probably 10 times.”
“Oh…” he sank back into the couch cushions. “Um…is a marathon 20 miles?” he asked, a bit meeker than his first declaration. This is probably when he remembered that I shared with the class that I had run a marathon in Sacramento a month before, one in SF a few months prior, and another when I had them back in fourth grade.
“No. Actually, a marathon is 26 miles. And I’ve done that 5 times.” A matter of fact tone paired with eye contact is really much more powerful than raising your voice.
“And you know, there are women who have run over a HUNDRED miles, at once, without stopping,” I added.
“Oh.” Poor Hector. Maybe the devil is back to speaking to him in his head (see previous note, “Fabulous Student Quotes.”) Or perhaps his parents just need to move a few hundred years forward in time. I suppose it’s better he learns it now from his fifth grade teacher, rather than some teenaged girl that slaps him across the face a few years down the road.
“I guess we won’t be skipping Women’s History Month this year,” I noted. And so we moved on to the week’s spelling words.
