The Hēathernet 20oz. to Geekdom

Piece by Piece

There are four pits in each corner of the blue table, each filled nearly to the brim with what could simply and fittingly thought of as raw potential. They're Lego pieces, all of the regular sort save for a few special elements mixed in from what must have been long lost visitor sets and some large quantities from what are to be known as impostor companies in my humble opinion. Our hands are dipping into them again. Me and my student.

I have a new job.

Thomas the Tank Engine is the building theme. Theme is too light a descriptor, it's really the fixation. Fixation, a term that aptly describes the dedication to this table that constantly returns my crackling knees to the weakly carpeted floor whenever a reward has been earned and usually keeping them there long after time is up. The act of returning to our work much like trying to remove a sleeve tenderly wrapped around a cactus: arduous, tender, and with the potential for things to get worse.

It's a real job with real responsibilities and real consequences.

Last night I was clocked in at Target, I've had to stay on to pay the bills, and as a favor to a friendly manager I performed some of my old duties and ground out the preparations for today's new releases. I pushed myself to really crush out the work, my pride the driving the effort. The work was noticed and my standard issue walkie crackled,"Heath, you should really drop this whole teacher thing, your true calling is as a movie guru."

I buzzed back, "A movie guru saves the world on Tuesdays, a teacher saves the world Monday through Friday."

I'm not a teacher. That's the simple thing to call it when you're trying to explain why you're leaving one job for another. I'm an Instructional Aide, a one on one adult for a second grader that isn't quite declared special needs and isn't quite main stream either. I work six hours a day with a half hour lunch. Except for that lunch it's alway me and the student, the student, and me. So I'm not a teacher... yet.

This afternoon I took a short nap and woke up, eyes focusing on a white ceiling that could be any of the white ceilings I've napped under for the last nine years and feeling familiar feelings. Although familiar it remains undefined. The best I can describe it is that I can sense just how many blank afternoon naps I've already had in life but how little I feel like an adult. As if I could imagine my life is a Lego creation but I've only put a few stripes down on the blue studded table. I look to my neighbors and they've got skyscrapers and airplanes. Some are working together and building bridges, connecting their models together and enjoying their shared successes, standing tall on stacks of confidence and understanding. My model is not ready to be played with. I look at my piddling of bricks. Now I don't like it. I want to wipe it clean and start again.

I reach for my table but a reassuring hand drops down from where I can not see and holds my wrist down as I grip the brick.

"See where this one takes you. There is plenty of space left on the table."

It is the Teacher.

I ask my student what model he would like me to try and build for him this time. The red engine, James, is the pick. I set to work building it from the bricks I pull from the pits and snap them down to the table, piece by piece.

James and Thomas at work.