Black clouds and tennis balls

There were clouds today. Big black ones hanging over the city, threatening rain though never delivering until this evening. And even now, it's a sputter of a rain coating the streets one more time with a damp blackness.

I rode my bike today. I didn't want to, but I knew it would make me feel better. Only it didn't. It made me tired.

The first day back after vacation is always like a sledgehammer rattling me out of my quiet vacation stupor. The questions. Oh god, the questions.

I do an activity with my students a the beginning of the year. I hand them each a tennis ball and then I tell them that I'm going to stand at the front of the room with a bucket. On the count of three, they need to "toss" their tennis ball into the bucket. 1-2-3 and the balls come whipping at me. The kids who don't like me much throw them with vigor and malice and the others, who may or may not like me, cringe as they give an underhanded attempt at getting the ball into the bucket.

I then ask the kids if that strategy worked...how many balls did I get in my bucket? I've never had more than 4 balls caught in a class ranging from 25-35 students. The kids brainstorm ways they could be more successful until everyone agrees that they should all toss the balls one at a time. Then I ask, "What if you didn't toss them? What if you walked up here and put the ball into the bucket?"

"That wouldn't be any fun!" they all scream at me.

They're right...for them it's not as fun. But for me, it's not only more fun, but I'm more successful at catching each and every ball in the room.

This, I tell, is an analogy. The bucket is ME and the balls are their questions. "If 30 of you lob your questions at me or demand my attention all at the same time, I'll never be able to "catch" them. I won't feel very successful and you won't feel like I hear you."

For the rest of the year, when I'm feeling overwhlemed I say, "Hey this is a tennis ball moment!" And they all stop and wait their turns, lobbing questions one at a time.

Today, they forgot all about the tennis ball moments. They lobbed and tossed and chucked and pitched...I got curve balls and spit balls and change up and sliders. By the time I got on my bike to come home, I didn't know if I could make it up the hill...heavy with tennis balls I shifted into low gear and just pushed one leg after the other toward the earth, watching my wheel inch forward on the pavement.

The first day back. Wimbeldon, US Open, Australian Open, and the French Open all rolled into one. World Series, all 7 games, tossed in for good measure.

The killer pitch today was finding out that one of my favorite moms of one of my favorite students has MS. Her daughter broke out in tears today admist all the balls flying hapharzardly around the room.

Nothing in this world is fair. It's hard, but it sure ain't fair.

I now see the black clouds as just that...