See, I do like to blog. A lot, actually. There are many times where I'll sit and ponder something and think to myself, "that would make a great blog!" Unfortunately, I hardly ever take the time to sit down and write about it. I'm starting up again. Who knows what I'll write about. I have an affinity for CNN, Jesus, Figure Skating, and Travel, not necessarily in that order. So, I'd expect to see some of everything here. If that stresses you out, no worries! There are many other amazing blogs out on the web for you to peruse.
Ok, so figure skating. If you don't know me, you may not be aware that I coach figure skating both in class settings and privately. It's a raging good time, and an even better time for good story observation. Kids, truly, say the darndest things, (especially when they think they're falling to their death). I think the surest way to win over a blogging audience is with a clever anecdote, so I'll share some of my favorites with you.
I teach a class of 3-5 year olds. Once your laughing has subsided, continue. Yes, a 3 year old can theoretically skate. In my class of 3-5 year olds, I pretty frequently get these situations
Miss Whitney, I have to peeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (Cue pee dance, on ice skates) with or without 3 year old speech impediments. Usually includes falling, rarely crying.
MissWhitneytodayIwenttotherodeoandsawahugecowwithbighornsyesterdayIwenttoabirthdaypartyyourscarfisredwhyamIhere? Also known as diarrhea of the mouth. I love 'em, but social conventions, and normal conversational patterns don't apply here. Can I mention that my students are extremely talented at skating while performing this feat? Because they are.
Refusal to cooperate and/or appear conscious. This most often happens when the little tyke has absolutely no desire to skate whatsoever, and is being groomed to pursue mom or dad's unfulfilled olympic ambitions. The conversation will go something like this
Me: "Come on, little tyke! (Names changed for their protection) You can do it! March your feet!" (In a voice 3 octaves higher than normal and with the pep of a whole cheering squad)
Little Tyke: Blank Stare
Me: "Don't you want to go to the pool? Let's take our animal to the swimming pool!" (We use little stuffed animals and take them to the blue ice painted for hockey goals, ie, swimming)
Little Tyke: Blank Stare
Me: Gesticulating wildly "See! Ms. Whitney wants to go the pool! Come on, Buddy! Why don't you come with me?"
Little Tyke: Stare communicating the following: you are the dumbest person on this planet, and I am totally manipulating you to look like a complete idiot.
Mom of Little Tyke (standing at the glass barrier): Violent pointing and lip-synching threats.
Little Tyke: Resigned sigh, skates across the ice like a champ.
I also teach big people, and this story is something that actually happened today. I teach classes with the most fabulous high school aged assistant ON THIS PLANET. I swear, I would trust her with my class any day. Anyway, today we're teaching kids how to do backward crossovers, and I literally, I swear to you, not 30 seconds before said to them, "make sure you look over your back shoulder to make sure you don't hit your friends!" (everyone is friends in my class, whether they like it or not). So there I am, standing there, happy as a clam when my dutiful assistant, demonstrating the move to our class smacks into me while skating backwards. And not looking behind her. I wildly flail my arms (a no-no in my class) while doing my best cupid shuffle rendition to attempt to stay on my feet. Did I mention that I was in the direct center of the rink with an audience of about 40 parents? Ha. Because I was. Fortunately, this is not my first rodeo, nor hers, so we explained to the students (who were laughing uncontrollably) that we were merely demonstrating what NOT to do! They didn't buy it, but we provided some great entertainment for the gaggle of parents trying to conceal their laughter. Hey. At least I have fun at my job.
Well, so long for now. Another day, another adventure.
Whitney
