The Barefoot Lunatic

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I left my apartment the other night just before 8:00 pm wearing shorts, a t-shirt, my Five Fingers shoes, and a jacket. In my pockets I had my student ID and keys and I held my water bottle and the banana I was eating. I arrived at the gym after a few minutes of walking and began my workout.

Sweaty and tired, I picked up my belongings and headed home. I chose to carry my jacket instead of wear it because, while it was nearly freezing outside, I had just worked out and was plenty warm. I went into my apartment and immediately took off my shoes. Then I realized I was missing my student ID. I checked around my room but soon realized I must have dropped it on my walk home.

I walked out into the cold, barefoot and in the shorts and t-shirt I had just worn to work out. Retracing my steps toward the gym, I kept my gaze on the ground, looking for my card. I walked down the stairs. Nothing. I got to the sidewalk where cars were passing by. Still no card. I crossed the street and was more than halfway to the gym when I saw my card on the ground.

As I picked it up and trotted back to my apartment, freezing all the way, the thought crossed my mind of how weird I must look. It's not every day drivers and passerby get to see a barefoot college student appropriately dressed for a summer day walking along staring intently at the ground on a nearly freezing January evening!

Stabbed by the Thorn in a Pile of Roses

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At overnight camp when I was a kid and also as a staff member, we sometimes did an activity before bed called Roses and Thorns. Everyone gathered on the floor in their pajamas. We then went around the circle and each girl shared their "rose", a highlight of the day, and their "thorn", something that didn't go very well.

The other day was full of roses for me. I participated in an exciting intellectual conversation in my philosophy class and ran into someone I know who wished me a happy birthday and gave me a hug on my way out of the building. I bought a Subway sandwich for lunch and ate while chatting with a girl who is running a club I am joining.

In my last class of the day, astronomy, the professor was reviewing that an object has to be moving at about 17,000 miles per hour to go into orbit around the earth. He was going along the back rows calling on each person for a question.

"When was the last time you traveled at 17,000 miles per hour?" he asked his next victim. The girl smiled uncomfortably as the professor waited for an answer.

"I don't even know you that well and I know with absolute certainty the last time you traveled 17,000 miles per hour," added the professor. The girl still didn't have an answer. Everyone was waiting.

I looked back at her and our eyes met. "Never," I mouthed to her.

"Never?" she said, still unsure about the answer.

"Right!" The professor was satisfied with her answer and turned his back on us as he walked back up toward the chalkboard.

"Thank you," the girl mouthed to me. I smiled.

Later in the class, a guy asked if the maximum velocity of a rocket is proportionate to radius. The professor told him no, but he seemed confused. I mentioned that I thought he was confusing it with the orbital velocity formula, which does include radius. "Thanks!" he called over to me.

I left astronomy feeling pretty good. Two people had said thank you to me in class! When does that ever happen?

I realized in the middle of the day that I didn't have my water bottle but I knew I had it in philosophy class that morning, so I stopped by that building on my way home. A class was just starting in the classroom when I arrived. I stood in the doorway patiently as the professor talked, waiting for him to acknowledge me.

After a few moments, he looked at me. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if any of you found a green water bottle in here," I said to the class. Students looked around their desk but no one found it. I was about to go when the professor spoke to me. "You think it's worth interrupting my class for a water bottle?!" he sneered, shaking his head.

I was not expecting this. "I'm sorry; have a good afternoon," I said and walked out of the doorway, instantly feeling tears welling up.

I walked over to the dean's office down the hall and asked the secretary if there was a lost and found for the building. "It's usually me," she responded, but said she hadn't seen my water bottle. I absentmindedly peered over the top of her desk to see what was behind. "What, you don't believe me?"

As I walked home, I replayed the past ten minutes in my mind. Was I rude? Was the professor rude? Was the secretary rude? I was embarrassed and offended. And just like that, I let my rose-filled day be shattered by one little thorn.

The Sunday School Hunger Games

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I teach a religious school class of 8 kids in grades 2-4. This past week, I set up a game for them to review some of the Torah characters we have been learning about. I had them split in two teams; boys versus girls was the unanimous choice. Names of Torah characters (Isaac, Joseph, Dinah, Miriam, etc.) were folded up and placed in a little holder. When it was their team's turn, one student came up and picked a name. They then had one minute to use words and/or actions to get their team to guess the name.

During one round, the boy whose turn it was was struggling to describe the character whose name he had picked. All he knew was whether it was a boy or girl. Since his teammate was not doing well, another student on the boys' team yelled out, "Can I volunteer?!" I told him that he couldn't because it was the other student's turn, and we were rotating turns in order. His reply: "But this is the Hunger Games!!!"