4 teachers, a pond, and a zillion frogs

I derive so much joy from being a teacher. Not all the time, mind you, but nearly.

I get such a kick out of so many of the things my kids say and do. Sometimes they say something so witty, so funny, sometimes so profound, that I can't help but sport a big silly grin. Or they'll do or say something so utterly ridiculous, I can't help but laugh good-naturedly at the absurdity of it all.

For example, we were playing this really fun game called Fruit Basket today on a field that was still pretty slick with water from last week's rains. Victor, running full speed to get away from Steve, had seemingly made it to safety, crossing the border of the safety zone. Smiling and laughing, he turned in triumph to look at Steve when his feet, which in theory had stopped, continued to slide underneath him and he fell flat on his back in the mud. Hilarious.

Well, I guess you had to be there. But you just don't get to see that kind of thing at most jobs.

The highlight of Outdoor Ed so far had nothing to do with the kids. After all the kids were quietly nestled in their beds, dreaming of giants and benevolent redwood trees, Mar and I, along with two teachers from Allen Elementary in San Bruno, hiked over to the pond, sat down on the dock, and waited. We sat there in the kind of darkness that you can only get at a place like Outdoor Ed, where the night sky is unspoiled by the city lights. And then, the magic happened. To the left of us, a "ribbit" sounded. A few seconds later, a "ribbit" in response from the far end of the pond. Then another "ribbit," this time from the right side, burst forth. And then, as if on cue, the flood gates opened, the pond erupted in ribbit upon ribbit until it seemed that we were being given a special concert performance by the Outdoor Ed Frog Ensemble. The darkness was filled with sound. One minute passed, then two, and then, as suddenly as it had started, they all went silent. The four of us clapped with delight.

During the intermission we noticed that there were several untethered canoes stacked near the dock. All of us getting the same idea, we piled in and slowly paddled our way around the borders of the pond. It was like floating in the darkness of space. The mist hung low over the trees, the brightest of the stars reflected off the pond's smooth surface, and there we were, four teachers of children, feeling like children ourselves, unable to wipe the smiles off our faces.