Pi Day

I had an irrational excitement for Pi Day this year (see what I did there?). It was the first time I was sure that my students knew what pi was, and I felt confident that they would appreciate whatever punny madness I came up with to celebrate. I had visions of pies - apple, cherry, pecan, pizza - being passed around the classroom, with students enjoying the irony of their complimentary treat. And somehow, they would all magically understand that pi is the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its diameter, a concept I had previously tried (in vain) to prove using yarn and various sizes of circles.

Then all of a sudden, it was happy hour night, 3/13, and I hadn’t made any moves to organize pi day activities. And of course we all know what took priority that night - happy hour, obviously. So there I was, the morning of 3/14, with nothing but a lame YouTube video called “Pi Day” (a spoof on Rebecca Black’s annoying song, “Friday”), an even lamer joke that I made up on the spot, and a less-than-enthusiastic homeroom class. It was only 8:04 and pi day was already a wash.

I was also two minutes late to my first class, which is practically a crime at a school where time is of the essence. It was a rough start to the day, and as I made my way into the classroom, I was already feeling defeated. I was expecting the homeroom teacher who was waiting for me to relieve her to be annoyed, so I avoided eye contact with her and immediately faced the kids, who were standing eerily silently as they waited for the cue.

“Good morning, Marquette 6.”

“Happy Pi Day, Miss Hiltunen.”

I can only imagine the look on my face as those sweet babies startled me with the modified version of the morning greeting. My jaw dropped, my heart stopped, and I almost cried. The kids looked so excited to surprise me, and the homeroom teacher that had practiced the greeting with them looked ridiculously proud and equally as excited. I don’t know why it affected me the way it did. Pi Day’s only importance is that the date shares its digits with the infamous irrational symbol (and the added bonus of Albert Einstein’s birthday). I have no personal connection to the day; in fact, I can’t even remember my teachers making a big deal out of it when I was in school. But that little bit of enthusiasm was well-placed after an epic failure of a homeroom activity. It was such a small thing, but it was exactly what I needed.

It’s little moments like this that remind me why I love my job, that propel me forward even when I’m in a slump or experiencing hundreds of other frustrating moments. More on that to come.