A Day in the Life of a History Teacher: Competition Day

I checked my watch again while Brittany stopped the group to check directions. Were we going to make it? We studied the French street signs cluttered with extra letters no one pronounces, and finally found a match on our google-map printout. “This way,” I confidently announced to the 6 middle schoolers and 2 parent chaperones in tow behind us, and off we went, our suitcases clattering over the otherwise silent cobblestones. Few Parisians are out early on a Sunday morning, yet here we were heading to school on our weekend so that we could take part in our first ever International History Bee & Bowl. The name itself sounded intimidating. As we trudged on, I could hear HW say for the seventeenth time this morning, “I’m so nervous!” LW was pale; she had refused to eat breakfast, claiming that her stomach was too tight and would reject it.

“Do you think we have a chance at Rome?” JS asked next to me. Rome. That is where the European Championships will be held, and it had become synonymous in our minds with victory. “One competition at a time,” I smiled back at him. I didn’t want to acknowledge my own ambivalence of whether or not I wanted to think about Rome, let alone whether or not I thought we stood a chance today.

Brittany suddenly halted again, and the street fell eerily silent. “Are there stairs anywhere?” she asked, turning her map sideways. The middle schoolers immediately fanned out, and DE was the first to find them. “Over here!” he shouted loudly, only to be shushed by the European-born MK’s, whose worst fear is the disapproving glance of a stern adult. (Sidenote: We met him later on the train. Boo.) We raced down the stairs, the Seine River glittering just in view, and finally located the elusive International School of Paris. We had arrived with 2 minutes to spare for registration. The competition could begin.

Other students lined the halls and tables and eyed us curiously in our matching royal blue t-shirts, proudly proclaiming BFA across the front. Exuding more confidence than I felt at the moment, I signed the forms and filled in names, grateful for a task to have. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched HW redo her braid yet again and then ask AD if she could braid her long blond hair as well. Instructions were given, teams formed, rooms filled, and before I could even pat each student on the back one more time, they were gone. Out of sight. Out of my control. There was nothing more I could do for them now. Nothing else to teach, no word of encouragement I could speak one last time. It was up to them, and I wrung my hands in prayer, Brittany and I grimacing at each other across the room.

Seven hours passed in this manner. Rounds were won; rounds were lost. I was given the job of Reader, and often it was apart from any of my students. I waved through windows and watched with pits - yes several - in my stomach as they buzzed and either half-rose out of their chairs or half-sunk down into their depths. Friends were made. HW had braided every girl’s hair by the end of the day, and MS spent lunch in the corner with his new buddies.

Suddenly, in a flash, it was time for the Finals. We checked the standings on the Master sheet, and JS had qualified for the Bee Finals at the Junior Varsity level while MS and LW had qualified for the Middle school level. We had all qualified for the Bowl finals. Cheers ensued, and we headed to the gym where an intimidating table was set up at the front, and the buzzers stood waiting. I perched as far back as I could so that other teachers wouldn’t notice my constant shifting positions, and where I couldn't be accused of cheating if I mouthed the answers silently to myself.

MS took 1^st place for the Middle schoolers followed by the 1^st runner-up, LW, and JS put up a valiant fight before winning 1^st place at the Junior Varsity level as well. There was no holding back DE as he hooted and hollered embarrassingly, but his teammates didn’t seem to mind as much anymore. The individuals beamed in their medals, holding their prize chocolate, but the day wasn’t over. The team competition still stood before us.

The students took their place at the front table; Brittany, the parents, and I all adjusted our camera settings, but I was too flighty to take pictures, so I put mine away again. Deciding I needed a new seat, I readjusted myself twenty times and cracked every knuckle twice as the questions began to fly at the students. “Name the first Holy Roman Emperor crowned on Christmas Day, 800 AD.” “Charlemagne.” “What word is given to describe the somewhat aggressive expansion of nations into other parts of the world to start colonies and – .“ “Imperialism.” “Name the Christian apostle who denied Christ three times – .” “Peter!”

It was neck and neck. I moaned when they missed what seemed to me easy questions but cheered when they surprised me and got ones we had never studied. (English sheep?!?) And just as quickly as it had all begun, it was over. BFA had won!

I was in complete shock and wanted to rush the table. The ever-composed Brittany gave me a hug, and we received the plaque, raising it high for pictures and accolades of the other schools. MS’s buddies came up to shake his hand. “See you in Rome,” they declared, and he smiled back at them. “Will you braid my hair again in Rome,” Adita asked HW. “Of course!!!” HW replied, all nervousness replaced by bright smiles. We walked composed back up to the room where all our suitcases were being stored, the students congenially shaking hands and congratulating other winners as well.

And then we walked into our room, and all decorum went out the window. Whooping erupted, and I was surrounded by bouncing blue t-shirts who were chanting, “We’re going to Rome! We’re going to Rome!” (Stay tuned for a Rome blog following May 24-25.)