Sunday, September 26, 2010


The weather in San Diego is beautiful. Today it was dry, upwards of 95°. Like a thumping bass in the car next to you at a street light, insistent and relentless, is the thought that tomorrow I will be in the bungalow with 36 thirteen year olds and no air conditioning.

Oh, I tell myself, it's so much worse elsewhere. Think of Jamaica--no a/c and 60 kids in a class and no books. Or Haiti, whose schools are still being constructed.

But I can't stop the thoughts from pounding. That bungalow is a slow cooker. There will be kids in there for four consecutive hours. My windows face south so there won't even be a breeze. Sitting in the wooden oven that is my portable classroom is a challenge for all but recent immigrants from Jamaica or Haiti.

Do you know what thirteen year olds smell like after being in the sun for an hour? Do you know how they complain when their comfort zone is messed with? Do you know how hard it is to teach and learn about mercantilism (not so sexy in the best of conditions!) when sitting in a 100° room? I do, and hence the dread.

1 comment:

  1. My projector died after 15 minutes. Some kids threw up because of the heat. (None of mine, thank the Lord.) They didn't smell too bad, mainly because we had a Santa Ana so it was dry, dry, dry.

    One kid whined a bit too emphatically and I pounced on him: "We are AMERICANS! We can take this! You think a little heat stops us from learning? Our troops are in Afghanistan with full gear in weather worse than this--we aren't wussy! We Americans aren't gonna let the weather get in our way!" It kinda worked--half the kids have military parents. I'll have to use the patriotic card more often in the future.