Today was a beautiful day in Ohio. The sky was bright, the sun shone down with friendly rays, and it was unseasonably warm. Looking longingly out the window from the conference room of an office building, I was reminded of grade school and those fabulous days when you convinced your teacher to hold class outside.
It usually happened on the first warm day of spring. You would walk into your classroom through a landscape reeking of grass and growth, with flowers starting to bloom and birds chirping. One of the kids in the class would raise the possibility with the teacher, and then other kids would join in. Soon the pleas would build to a crescendo: “Please, Miss Tibbles? Please??? We promise we’ll be good!” And then the teacher, who probably was dealing with a touch of spring fever herself, would relent, and we would go outside and sit on the asphalt of the playground to listen to the day’s lessons. And, because we appreciated the gesture and didn’t want to get our nice teacher into trouble, we actually would try to be good.
I always had a soft spot for teachers who agreed to hold class outside. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, it showed some real flexibility — and real confidence in their ability to control their class. And when it happened, it made those rare spring days that much more special. Who doesn’t look back fondly on the days when they got to have class outside?