P.J. Hoffmaster State Park continued

(Continued from yesterday...)

     "That's right! The dust is actually a metal called iron.” The lady began to hand out bar magnets to all of the students, and continued to talk about the makeup of Michigan dune sand. At least I think that’s what she was talking about. I was otherwise occupied.

     I rushed over to CT, who was eagerly digging a hole in the sand, quickly scooping sand between his legs, looking like a dog about to bury a bone. “C., please don’t bury your magnet. They’re going to need that back.” I look around at the class. They were having the time of their lives, burying the magnets. The poor DNR lady was trying to get their attention. She was very nice, but clearly not a teacher. A teacher would know: never give a group of 3^rd graders any kind of exciting object, such as magnets, or any other object for that matter, until AFTER you have delivered your message.

     After the poor DNR woman had recollected and dug up all of the bar magnets, it was time for us to run the big dune. Feeling the same level of excitement my third graders were feeling, I quickly started the long hike up the massive dune. The sweat started rolling down my forehead almost immediately as hot sand began working its way into my shoes and under my socks. After what felt like 10 minutes and 9,000 calories burned, I had finally reached the top, just in time to catch OC. as he was about to run down the dune. The dune consisted of a narrow pathway between large clumps of beach grass. The problem was, the pathway was still heavily populated with more than half of the class trying to climb up.    

     I took a minute to explain to several disappointed boys why we had to wait until the pathway was clear before running down the dune, and lined the boys up. It felt rather similar to pulling a slingshot back as far as possible, and then waiting. At last the pathway became clear (enough). “OC, you are cleared for takeoff.”

     In a flash a blob of third graders rocketed down the dune, running into and tripping over each other. Within the first few seconds, several had already tripped face-first into the sand. One by one, they each crashed and burned, losing shoes along the way. The side of the dune looked like the set of a war movie, with bodies strewn everywhere, moaning. After first catching my breath from laughing so hard, then asking if they were ok, I declared, “Look out below!” and I was off.

(To be continued…)