All in a day’s work

In the middle of my class this morning I saw a couple of students looking a bit uncomfortable, and I was pretty concerned, until I saw they were transfixed by a bee that had wandered in through the window and, just as lazily, wandered out again.  This is Cornell, where hefty carpenter bees make come in through open windows and, buzzing loudly all the while, start carving out a home in the wood of the window frame while a class is being held.  You get used to things even if, like me, you’re a bit uncomfortable about bugs in general.

But five minutes after the visit from the bee I saw another girl seize up and look frightened.  When I asked her if she was okay she answered, “There’s a spider in my bag.  I’m sorry; I’m freaking out right now.”  That was about when I started wishing I didn’t have to be at the front of the room.  But when I took a peek I saw a very, very tiny spider looking a bit lost, so I picked up the pencil case in her purse, scraped it along the garbage can, knocking the spider off, returned her bag, and continued.  When I teased the one guy in the classroom, who was sitting next to her, about his failure to seize the moment and act in chivalry, he smiled a bit sheepishly and said, “I know, but I didn’t want to grab a girl’s handbag.”  Good point; I don’t think I would have been comfortable doing so if I hadn’t also been a girl, as well as the class instructor.  Girls’ “handbags,” as I guess they’re called seem to have this aura of mystery and sacredness about them.

Anyway,  I only wish my directions about writing introductory paragraphs had been as effective as my spider-ridding skills today.  I’m also very, very glad that the spider did not decide to climb up my arm and into my shirt or something ludicrous, thereby pushing my bravery beyond its meager limits.

Erin