“Ms,” said Alligator, “how many gallons of water do you think would fill my house?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen your house.”
He thought for a moment. “How many gallons could fit in your house?”
I expected that when a bunch of gifted kids were in one room, their individual quirks would sort of seem canceled out.
I was completely wrong.
I have several students who prefer to work from the floor. One stands—all of the time—legs wide open, working at her desk. Another one prefers to sit under the desk. Several don’t like shoes. A few wear their shirts inside out because the tags bother them. One simply can not walk looking forward because there are so many interesting people behind him to talk to. I have to warn them that reading books while walking down the stairs is not a great idea.
I dread the day that we have an unexpected fire drill. It will take us forever to get out the door.
Of course, one of my admins walked into my room after school one day to find me with my shoes off, feet propped up on my desk. I was listening to a Korean newscast while working on my grad papers.
My legs flew off of the desk and my feet searched the floor for their shoes while I tried to get myself together. “Yep, getting work done.”
She laughed, “I know you are, put your feet back up.”