Spinning Eggs

Transcription

1 Holly Wiegman Burlington-HW This submission is a sample of the type of brief essays I write for myself. Some I have shared orally with friends and family. Just wondering what your take is ;-) Spinning Eggs I spun the first egg, and it wobbled like a drunken sailor. Probably not the greatest metaphor to use with my class of third graders, but that is what came to mind. Best that I did not speak my thought aloud. The next egg, however, spun like a top even though it looked exactly the same. What s different? I asked. The answers varied, but no one came up with the truth: that one egg the one that spun like a top was hard-boiled. The other one was raw. The class remained focused as I explained. The heavy yolk sloshed around inside the raw egg, causing the wobbliness. A cooked yolk didn t slosh but remained stationary, allowing the egg to spin evenly and smoothly. I had used the eggs to demonstrate that things are not always as they appear. By the end, the class was still not convinced. Was it really true? Just then, the raw egg fell to the floor and spilled its contents. Oops! Now I had a mess to clean up. The kids all laughed. I laughed, too. Then I smashed the cooked one, and the class finally conceded: things that look the same on the outside are not always the same on the inside HAW-2018

2 Family Linguistics My son doesn t speak English. Ha! That s obviously a joke as we live in the United States, and English is our native language. Still, we struggle to communicate clearly with each other. Sometimes my husband acts as an interpreter. That helps a lot. The Bowing Snowman The clay balls, carefully stacked on each other, perched on the cookie tray; an army of snowmen waiting to be baked. My son cleaned his hands at the kitchen sink as I slid the tray into the oven. He went on to other pursuits as I settled down to oversee the baking of this year s Christmas gifts. When the timer went off, I peeked in the oven and my heart sank: one of the snowmen had toppled forward, no longer the straight, upright figure my son had crafted. I held words of consolation on my tongue as I called my son over, but before I could say anything Nate spoke. Oh, Mommy, look! the excitement in his voice was obvious, but it was not the row of tall, sturdy snowmen that had caught my son s eye. One of my snowmen is bowing! Nate passed out his gifts with pride that year, but the bowing snowman took up residence on my kitchen windowsill a respectful, humble reminder to see the bowing snowman in life s unexpected, unwelcome moments. 2 HAW-2018

3 Fried over Fries When my husband and I were first married we went on a lot of road trips. Occasionally we would make a stop to indulge in some fast food. I would always order fries. My husband never would. In fact, when asked, Do you want fries with that? my husband would always answer, No, thank you. Yet when we sat down to eat, Herman would proceed to eat some of my fries. Eventually I started questioning him before we ordered. Are you sure you don't want any fries? Yes, he was sure, but when we sat down to eat, he inevitably ate from my order. When I would complain, he would shrug, saying, But I am only having a couple, even when a couple was actually three, or five, or ten. I tried to hide my irritation. Herman was not being deliberately mean. He just really thought it was no big deal and could not understand why this was such an issue for me. Eventually I decided that a small thing like a few french fries was not worth an argument. But it still bothered me every time. Then one day I stopped asking if he wanted fries. I stopped commenting when he ate only a couple. I let Herman eat half my fries and felt no anger, no resentment. How, you might wonder?... A shockingly simple solution: I began ordering a large fry plenty for both of us HAW-2018

4 Measuring Up My husband is the yang to my yin. He starts doing from the moment he gets out of bed. While I sit with my pot of tea and the morning newspaper, he will be out cleaning the gutters, working on the cars, building a wood shed, mowing the lawn, or doing some other project around the house. I so wish I could be as active as him. After all, we live in a culture where bragging rights are given to those who accomplish the most. Herman fits very well into this world. I do not. One weekend my husband and I worked together on a kitchen remodeling project. After a few hours I was ready to stop. Herm asked me to just help with some measurements before I took a break. That way he could keep working while I rested. Tired and crabby, I really did NOT want to do that! But I DID want the kitchen finished and sooner rather than later so I grabbed the yardstick, held it up against the first cabinet, and called out the number to my husband. He recorded it and we moved on to the next one. After the third measurement Herman said, Holly, something is wrong. There is no way that cabinet is 92 inches wide. Had I not been so tired, I would have known he was right 92 inches is over 7 feet! Instead, frustrated, I shouted at him, What, you think I don t know how to measure? Look, it s right here! 92 inches! Herman came over and looked at the ruler. His face was puzzled and then he began laughing. What s so funny? I cried. 4 HAW-2018

5 Honey, you are using the wrong units. You ve been measuring in centimeters, not inches. You need to turn the ruler over. I took a closer look and realized that he was right. Grumpily I apologized. I turned the ruler over and we continued, although of course first we had to re-measure everything I had already done. Later that night, my daughter woke from a bad dream and asked me to be with her as she fell back asleep. I lay down next to her, rubbing her back and humming a soothing melody. Thank you, Mommy, she said. I needed you. Daddy just doesn t help me relax the way you do. After my measuring experience from earlier that day, her comment prompted a EUREKA! realization for me: When you measure yourself be sure to use the right units. 5 HAW-2018