Intersections and diversions

Yesterday was the school ski trip. I've been chaperoning this trip for the past 6 or 7 years because I like to ski and it's a fun day, and in this case had the added benefit of allowing me to miss a day of meetings. This trip proceeded through the usual routine for most of the day. We loaded up the bus, left 15 minutes late, and had an easy trip up.

By the time everyone was checked in and ready to go it was around 11 AM and I got my skis on and headed up the mountain. It was decent snow, considering that there was no snow for 100 miles in any direction except for what was on the trails. I had new boots which hurt but I could tell were much better than my previous boots and which saved me from falling at one point because of their betterness.

As sometimes happens, I met up with a bunch of kids that I knew who asked if I wanted to ski with them. I never ask in because I don't want to intrude, but I'm usually happy to join, and I knew these were good skiers who I'd enjoy being with. We skied for a while and then decided to have lunch. Lunch can be a bit awkward in these cases, because I never know if the kids want a teacher sitting there with them, but in this case I put my stuff down on a table and everyone else did too.

It was fun sitting with a pretty big group with a good-sized age range. Lots of back and forth silliness a lot of laughing. I joined in (though not for the grosser stuff) and really enjoyed it. And as we were packing up to go back out a thought hit me.

I've occasionally pondered the relationship between teachers (me in particular) and students. Our lives intersect at various points, usually in class and occasionally on trips or other events as well, but we're not friends, no matter how friendly we are. We're never going to each other's house or going to the movies together. This is neither good nor bad; it's just the way things are. So I was thinking, here we are, a bunch of people who know each other pretty well,  doing the same thing together and all having fun. But our lives could hardly be more dissimilar. My perspective is necessarily completely different from theirs. At any given moment, even if we're sitting on a ski lift together, there is practically no chance that we're thinking about the same thing at any point.

So we were, in fact, sitting on the lift while I'm congratulating myself for this profound revelation, when I check my phone as part of my chaperon duties, and there was a missed call from the bus driver. I'm on the ski lift, what's up? I texted him. He texted back A kid is injured. He's at First Aid . I tell my companions that I've gotta go and I say to myself "Bingo! This is exactly what I was thinking." Not only is there no way any of these kids are getting that phone call, but none of them can even conceive of getting that kind of call and being expected to act on it.

So, my profound realization in hand, I head off to the first aid center and ultimately to a local hospital where the kid, who broke his arm but is otherwise fine, was treated and picked up by his father, who drove me home as well. Very full and interesting day indeed.