Buddy check

Today was our third grade celebration as our students will be moving on to one of the two intermediate schools next year. This afternoon we went roller skating which is always something of a blast from the past for me. As I was growing up I remember many nights spent at that exact same roller rink, only that time it was known as the Chink Rink. (Welcome to Pekin, where we embrace blatant racism. In fact, they should just put that very sentence on the welcome sign as you enter Pekin.) Now today when I put on old-school skates (not those new-fangled blades) I add three inches to my already 6'5" frame. I look something like a giant, anorexic Godzilla stepping over tiny children.

This year I have some of klutziest nine-year olds on the planet. They trip over Harry Potter books, highlighters, and even individual sheets of notebook paper. It's a sight to behold. Now try putting those students out on a wooden rink as their talented classmates whiz past them. It's a recipe for disaster. Today one boy was out there skating for the very first time. I took his arm as I helped him make one lap around the giant oval. About halfway around he got startled when another boy skated past him. It should be noted, however, that the other boy was so far away from him that he could practically be considered a resident of Iowa. Needless to say, my boy started to fall and reached unsuccessfully for my shirt. When that didn't work he grabbed on to the crotch of my jeans with the conviction of a unsteady mountain climber clinging onto the side of the cliff just seconds away from falling to his death. Let's just say that I'm not sure what was injured more, his knee or my groin.

Later I noticed that after already being there for 45 minutes another girl in my class hadn't yet been out on the floor. When I asked her what she was waiting for she told me that she wasn't very good at skating. I volunteered to go out there with her and slowly make our way around. She kindly refused and I continued to ask her again at various times throughout the afternoon to no avail. With only about 20 minutes left until we were leaving she shimmied up to me at one of the tables where I was drinking a soda. She said, "Mr. Ritchason, I'm ready now. I love this song!" I mean what third grade girl doesn't love to groove to Elliot Yamin's "Wait For You"? I took her arm and led her out to the rink. Immediately some of the students started looking at me a little strangely. I looked over to the side to see one of my third grade colleagues laughing. As we made our way around the final curve I looked up at one of the monitors to see that in pink neon letters it said "Couple's skate." I looked like one of the nastiest educators in America right there. I kept watching for Chris Hansen to come charging from behind the DJ booth. I politely let go of her arm and went to finish my drink, counting down the minutes until the Pekin P.D. arrived.