Ready, Set, Push!

I love competition, especially when I know I am going to win. This started years ago when I discovered that when it came to athletics, I wasn't going to a superstar. Being overweight and whiny didn't help. However, I eventually came to love competition when it came in the forms of Scene-It, Trivia Pursuit and all things nerdy.

It just so happens that the only time I enjoy physical competition is when it is against children. I'm not one of those teachers that just lets children win. No, no, no. I enjoy the feeling of winning and I tend to not mind it when the people that I defeated don't have a driver's license. Or their voices haven't changed.

So, imagine how giddy I became when a child challenged me to a push-up contest. Keep in mind, this child is nine years old. Now, I'm okay in the upper-body strength department and can hold my own when I compare myself to the diva ladies at my New York Sports Club who were rejected from "The Real Housewives" casting department. Knowing this, I entered the competition with a certain air of confidence.

I knew I wasn't going to let this kid win. It would be a fight.

A bit of a background on my competitor- M is probably one of the greatest kids I have ever taught. He's sweet, incredibly good natured and just loves life. He tends to get caught up in naughtiness but it's okay because he's just a genuinely great kid. I was happy to take him on in the challenge.

The important part: Several years ago, his father passed away unexpectedly from a seizure. This was before I came to this school and everyone told me how hard it was for the little guy. I felt an instant connection with him because I too had lost a parent at a young age.

Today in class, we were reading "Freak the Mighty" and came to the end of the story where one of the main characters has a seizure. Several students did not know what one was and M raised his hand and proceeded to tell us that his dad died from one when he was asleep.

He began to get upset and I curbed the class conversation into some other topic, allowing other students to chime in on their thoughts on the current chapter. M put his hands on his forehead and stared at the book. I knew instinctively what he was thinking and just placed my hand on his shoulder in a "I know what you are feeling kind of way."

I wanted to cheer him up, so after this lesson I decided it was time for the competition. I gathered the students around the carpet and instructed them to keep their noise levels down and cheer us (namely, M) on. M was a bit nervous, but I held my hand out and said, "May the best man win!"

Class: "Yeah, NOT Mr. Vest!"

They clearly support me.

M had challenged me to 30 push-ups, which I knew I could do. But then he said, "I can do 40!"

Shit.

So, the push-ups began. We were about 20 in when I kept noticing that M was looking over at me, this incredibly happy smile on his face. I couldn't beat this kid! I needed to let him enjoy the moment and I began to feign tiredness.

"Oh man! I don't think I can do this anymore!"
"Yes you can, Mr. V!"
"Looks like M is going to beat me!"
"Yeah!!"

The funny thing is, M was totally not doing a correct push-up. He was just bending his waist down ever so often like he was being pulled up by a rubber band. But he was laughing. And smiling. And I saw a little bit of a nine-year old me in him.

After we both hit 35, I decided it was time to end it (and truth be told, I was freakin' tired) and pretended to collapsed.

The kids freaked out and M jumped up and down, his hands in the air like Rocky. He hive five-d his classmates and held out his hand to let me shake it.

"Good match Mr. V. Next time, pull ups?"

What a kid.

It's moments like this make me damn happy I am a teacher.