This morning I got a text message from my husband, who’s on his way to work (he carpools, and it’s not his day to drive):
“the one goldfish may have died.”
These carnival goldfish from a parish festival last October haven’t been looking too good. And I’m a little squeamish for this sort of thing. Always have been, ever since that time when, on my birthday, I was setting the table for dinner and I stepped on a fish that had jumped out of its tank.
Let me just say that there is no way I’m doing a well-being check on a carnival goldfish.
But there’s a funny memory of dead aquarium fish, and that’s the subject of today’s edition of Worth Revisiting.
From November, 2013:
Friday will be a challenge: I’ll have 3rd grade, self-contained. I don’t think I’ve taught a self-contained class since I substituted during my college days. I’m used to kids coming and going every 45 minutes.
Here’s what happened the LAST time I taught a self-contained class. (Remember, I was still a college student.) It was a 3rd-grade class at the parish school where my uncle was the pastor. When the morning bell rang, I went out to the playground to collect my students. We entered the classroom and the kids got busy with their morning routine…until the kids whose job it was to feed the fish noticed that the class pet had gone belly-up in the aquarium. Pandemonium ensued, with all the girls shrieking and all the boys yelling, “The fish is dead! Can I flush it?” In the middle of all that, my uncle strolled by the classroom.