Recess

Recess

“Is there a problem here?” I said, calmly, to the two boys holding each other by their shirt necks, punching, while a dozen other eight-year-old’s cheered.

The immediate silence, and children practically turning to statues before me, let me know they all heard me. I’d been a recess monitor for long enough to know how to start the conversation.

Jeremy and Alex, the two fighting, forgot to let go of one another’s shirt as they stood there, Jeremy bleeding a bit from the corner of his mouth. So, the immediate response always given, even now, did not go over as well as they might be hoping.

“Nothing,” they’d both said at the same time. Then realizing they were still clutching one another’s shirts, they both let go.

“I’d like to speak to Jeremy and Alex, if the rest of you could move along…” they scattered.

Jeremy and Alex stood there like deer in the headlights. I think if I waited long enough, they would both have fainted from lack of breathing. But I’d had some practice in these cases, knew what to do.

“Listen, I’m just the recess monitor. I don’t really care who’s right or who’s wrong here. I just want to do my job and get through recess. Could you two just wait and have your fight after school? It would really help me, what do ya say?”

They turned and looked at each other, an unspoken decision was made between them.

“Sure!” they both said at the same time.

“Ok, but you have to pretend to be friends till the end of recess or I’ll get in trouble, deal?”

They agreed, then ran off. I saw them after school, getting along like two peas in a pod, conflict forgotten.

Second graders, gotta love ‘em.