God's Will

God told St. Peter to clear his calendar of appointments for this Sunday, his traditional day of rest, so that he can kick back in his private skybox and root for the team that outprays the other in this showdown of (if the hyperactive media is to be believed) biblical proportion. Fittingly, the game pits brother vs. brother, although it's unclear which Harbaugh is Cain and which is Abel. It also remains to be seen how the hagiography of Ray Lewis plays out in the final chapter of his own Old Testament-like career.

Martin Luther King Day With the First Grade

I was reunited with the first-grade class yesterday for an abbreviated schedule, which included a read-aloud illustrated biography chosen specifically for the day. I began: “Martin Luther King Jr. was born on January 15, 1929 in Montgomery, Alabama...”

Amanda raised her hand before I could complete the first sentence. “My cousin’s birthday is in January,” she told us.

I nodded and then continued with the highlights, arriving at a moment in 1955: “Dr. King was arrested during the Montgomery bus boycott and his house bombed. Years later he led a civil rights march and rally in Washington, D.C...

“Wait,” said John, interrupting me, “How did Martin Luther King escape from prison?”

Well, no, it wasn’t like that, I explained. He was freed. There was no jail break. As a result of the boycott, a court ruling ended racial segregation on all public buses in Montgomery.  

Back to the story: “Over 250,000 people attended the rally during the summer of 1963 in the capital and listened to King’s famous ‘I have a dream’ speech.”

James, paying close attention to the illustrations, noticed the artist’s method of representing the thousands of people spread out across the National Mall for the event: “He really had to paint a lot of dots in this picture!”

It’s an effective way of showing such an enormous crowd from Martin Luther King’s perspective, I agreed. Now, does anything in the illustration give you a clue that the setting is Washington? I asked the children, thinking perhaps someone would recognize the reflecting pool or a more famous landmark.

No response.

What about this structure? I asked, pointing to the drawing of the Washington Monument. Does anyone know what this is called?

Nothing.

I’ll give you a hint—it’s the Washington...

“I know,” shouted James. “The George Washington Bridge!”

Faint Praise

“Mr. K., you’re our favorite sub,” third grader Nicole offhandedly told me today as she was lying on the classroom carpet during a writing exercise. As I tried to supress a proud smile, Alyssa, alongside her, looked up and amended the compliment: “Our favorite boy sub.” Wait…what? O.K., the “boy” mitigated somewhat the qualified praise. Alexa immediately chimed in. “Are there any other boy subs?” she wondered aloud. Raised up and cut down in one motion.