300 A perfect Example

I've heard it said that deciding to become a teacher is like deciding to open up a bowling alley in your mind.

I'm a much better teacher than I am a bowler.

I'm far from perfect but I never stop trying to connect.

One day, when i was still teaching in the scholastic and parental sense, I took my youngest daughter to BowlAroll.

I was trying to teach her how to bowl.

Shake hands with the head pin etc,

It was a summer day so the lanes were nearly abandoned.

Just me and Mary and a kid two lanes over.

The kid was thin and looked like he could use a burger.

The burger stand was right behind us.

Mary and I were having burgers and the best fries in town.

We were taking our sweet time.

The kid, unburdened by burgers, was rolling along at a steady uniterrupted pace.

His pace was quickened by the fact that the first five balls he rolled were strikes.

While chewing my burger I mentioned to the kid "wow you're off to a great start.'

By way of resonse, he rolled another strike.

I mentioned to Mary "that kid has six strikes in a row. I've never had more than four strikes in a rwo in my whole life."

He rolled another strike.

Buried the ball.

Pins flying everywhere.

I advised Mary to watch how this kid reaches out, follows through and shakes hand with the head pin.

He did it again.

Eight strikes in a row.

This is getting serious.

I went to the desk.

I told the lady about this kid having eight strikes in a row and I advised her to comeback and take a look.

When I got back, the kid had added two more.

Now the whole bowling alley was watching this kid.

The whole bowling alley being me, Mary and the womanfrom the desk.

He rolled. He shook hands with the head pin. Right in the pocket.

The kid had the exact same expression as when I first noticed him which was no expression other than maybe needs a burger.

One more strike and a perfect game.

12 strikes,

300 score.

Didn't the son of a bitch bury the 12th ball.

He did it.

Perfect goddamn game.

Mary, me and the woman cheered.

The woman asked the kid's name.

He pointed up at the electric scorcard that read "Jack".

The kid had achieved perfection.

He acted as if he done it before.

He was about to start a new game.

The announcement was made by the lady at the desk through the PA to everybody in the place that "Jack on alley 5 has just bowled a perfect game."

I called over "Jack, would you like a burger."

He said sure.

I got him the burger. He seemed grateful.

I assurred Jack that Mary and I were the grateful ones.

We had seen something perfect.

Perfect in every way.

Someday I would tell the story.

We left the alley before the kid finished his burger.

Enough was enough.

300

300

Yeah this is my three hundredth essay since my diagnosis. I want it to be good and grateful

It ain't perfect.

This ain't bowling.

This is the mind of a teacher telling a true story

About a bowling alley

And a kid named Jack.