Celebrity Status

You know, I love going to high school football games. Not so much to watch the football because honestly, if I have to watch the game very closely, I get bored. But the atmosphere is great, the energy and the school colors waving around and just the activity are fabulous for a Friday night.

And, to be honest, for the past three seasons, I leave the games feeling pretty damn good about myself. It's pretty much the only place I know to go to see former students, and sometimes I get swarmed by them. I'll be the only person who can legally drive within a 100 foot radius.

Since school's been in for two and a half weeks now, I've been wanting to go, and tonight I figured there might be an hour left in the game for me to "observe."

So I headed out in my Sonata with its low tire pressure and drove the 20 minutes it takes to get to Fenwick Field, or whatever it's called. It was pitch black outside; only the lights from the field lent any light. I somewhat apprehensively headed toward the gate, flipping open my phone and texting rapidly so I wouldn't look like I was awkwardly alone or anything. It's the part I dread the most: the walk from my car through the gates and to a seat by people I know, hoping like I don't stand out like the cliched sore thumb. As I walk about 50 feet inside the gate, I hear my name screamed and glance up from my phone to watch as about 10 8th graders gallop towards me and fling their arms around in a massive group hug. I know I hit one girl in the face. There might have been more casualities, but the cluster of people only grew tighter as former students caught wind that I was there. Suddenly I was embraced by freshmen, my 8th graders of only 4 swift months ago. Their chatter bursts forth, and they seem to edge out the present 8th graders to form a circle around me. They want to complain about their massive loads of homework, the relative meanness of their teachers, and their general dissatisfaction in their status change. And I cannot tell a lie; I felt enormously gratified when they praised me and said they'd kept my notes and remembered direct objects (what I call the "d.o." or "do"). In fact, it is possible that I threw my fists in the air and shouted triumphantly when they said they remembered things I had taught them. As a teacher, you always wonder if anything you say or do affects their lives at all, and it is SO reassuring to hear that some of your efforts found fertile ground.

So as it turns out, I never made it any further than those 50 feet inside because quite a few came to me. I saw some juniors I had taught, a few straggling sophomores (not as many as I had hoped but maybe next time), quite a few freshmen swung by, and a surprising number of my present students (who apparently were taking pictures of me chatting with the freshmen??--a little creepy and stalkeresque), and even some 7th graders came and said hi. One of my favorite former students said he and his friend (another one with a special place in my heart) had looked for me around half time . . .I wondered how they would even know I was coming. Or maybe it just occurred to them that I would. And apparently one of my 8th graders told his friends that he "knew I was coming," and I wonder how the hell he figured that. Strolling in at 4th quarter doesn't seem like promising odds.

Anyway, it was brief, almost dream-like, like did I really just get to see those people I've been wondering about for the past few weeks? But it's given me the energy to come home and write and then go back and teach next week, feeling like something I've done has made an impression on those kids I can't help but love year after year after year.