Fifth Grader One, High Schoolers ZERO.

I had one of those "so proud of my student" moments that teachers live for.

We took a trip today. Climbed aboard the shuddering yellow school buses and took the thirty minute drive up I-95 to tour the Constitution Center and Independence Hall in Philadelphia. It was a cloudless, seventy degree journey back in time to the founding of our nation.

One of the highlights of our annual trip is the twenty minute tour of the room where both the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution were drafted and signed. There is something profoundly moving about standing in the same room as the men who took a stand against King George and then created a framework of government (it was their second try, but hey, who's counting?) that we still use today, 223 years later.


As we listened to the park ranger talk about the origins of our constitution he asked the crowd, composed mostly of a high school group from Virginia and three small groups of my fifth graders, if anyone knew that our current constitution was our nation's SECOND try. Several of my students nodded their heads along with most of the high schoolers, bobble heads sprung into motion from sheer group reaction.

The ranger put his hands on his rather large hips and asked us if we knew what our nation's first attempt at a workable system of government was called.

The high schoolers looked at each other with expressions blanker than Sarah Palin's at a national vocabulary bee. The ranger paused for a few seconds, trying to give their adolescent brains a chance to retrieve the answer from their hormone soaked memory banks.

He inhaled, about to give the answer when the voice of a young boy beat him to it.

"They were called the Articles of Confederation," he said quietly but clearly, sharing what we had been learning about earlier in the week.

The ranger's head swung around to my guy standing at the rail. The high schoolers behind us muttered to themselves. I am pretty sure I heard one of them exclaim "Holy shit!".  The ranger smiled at my student.
"You sir, are one hundred percent correct! You could teach these older kids a thing or two."

More mumbling, the likes of which I shall not repeat here.

I made eye contact with my guy and winked. He smiled and gave me the thumbs up, beaming with a self-confidence so strong I wish I could bottle it and give it to every student.

These are the moments I live for and cling to when the media, idiot politicians, or half-witted "documentary" film makers (Waiting for Profiteers?!?) criticize my profession and my colleagues.