Today was a day filled with instruction, tying lose ends of all subjects, discussions, close-reading and the list goes on and on. Life is a lot like a worm. It squiggles, it flops, and it moves at varying speeds. Sometimes, the wiggle is in a positive direction and other times the wiggle is a sign of losing focus, distraction or even magical whimsy. If you have ever seen a young child squirming in his or her seat, you probably have a pretty good idea of the definition formulating inside my own head. 

Today was the perfect worm day. We had squiggling in all directions-most of it good. We started the morning with a lesson on rectilinear shapes only to realize that a student had thrown up all over the middle desk and herself. Needless to say, we will be repeating our rectilinear lesson again on Monday. It's the worm. These things happen. 

The squiggles and squirms began again during indoor recess. That contained energy inside all of those little bodies that probably haven't been out to play in quite some time hits hard around 12:45 to 1:00. I remember the days in our Elementary School where we went out in snow pants, hats, gloves and just had a grand old time. This is no longer. As I was finishing up in the hallway, I came inside the classroom towards the end of indoor recess and noticed all of my students on my map carpet, in a circle, on their stomachs facing inward. They were all flopping around and moving their hands up and down and their feet as if they were actually earthworms. I thought to myself, "Boy is this going to be a long afternoon." I also thought to myself, "What did they eat for lunch?" And a third thought, "What do I do with these wiggly souls?" As any good teacher does, I entertained them with a single question: "What exactly are you guys doing?" One of my students piped up, "We are all trying to do the worm." "Yeah!" Another student chimed in. 

I knew what I had to do. It would get the whole class squirming and probably not the best idea for focusing purposes, but I was making the decision anyways. It was Friday. I think we could all handle a couple more squirms. I told my students to quietly move to the sides of both of my carpets, I took off my giant boots, placed them aside and very clearly and calmly stated, "I'm going to do the worm down the entire length of both of my carpets." My kids looked at me in complete shock. Apparently the worm creates awe and wonder because one of my students had his mouth hanging open the entire time. And before I started I remember looking up and seeing this smile on one of my student's faces. It was a smile that said quietly "Thanks for embracing the worm, Mrs. A." It was also a smile that said, "This may be the best moment in my third grade year. I hope it never ends."

Needless to say, I placed my tummy on the carpet, and I wormed all the way down to the end of our classroom. My classroom sounded like we had just won the Superbowl. And you know what? We all had just won the Superbowl. We took a squirm and a squiggle, and we turned it into whimsical wormy magic. In my four years of teaching, I have never practiced the worm in front of my kids. The disebelief on their faces was enough to fill an entire world full of whimsy. All of us as teachers say on a daily basis, it isn't the material or the academics students will remember as they head into middle and high school. They will remember the magic they felt, the whimsy and how their teacher handled "the worm" of life. And most likely, I will remember this for weeks afterwards when I wake up tomorrow and cannot move my arms. But, hey, isn't that the ultimate mark of whimsy? Creating so much wonderment at one time, that your whole body is sore with love? Bottom line, if life appears to get a little wormy, just remember to squiggle in the direction the worm is traveling. 

Who knew that so many years ago, when I was in Elementary School at my aunt's wedding, a whimsical worm lesson from my cousin during the reception and many hours of praticing on the carpet would ignite a whimsy in my own children (students) the same age as me when I first began to see life in the shape of a worm. Welcome to the wiggling worm of whimsy. It is 100% worth the ride.