How many would propagate as the experiment went on?
More importantly... who would get to carry the jar from the closet to his desk each day?
Every day, I threw my hand high in the air and wiggled to the edge of my seat to go and get the jar.
Every day, Mr. Stanek smirked, shook his head "no" at me, and chose someone else.
"But, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?" I moaned. "I wanna do ittttt!".
Mr. Stanek's smile broadened. "I'm sorry, Rhonda. You will drop the jar, I just know it".
Silly! Preposterous! Was he basing this theory on my scientific past in our high school?
Yes. True. I was the girl who left her milk-based 7th grade science experiment in her locker over Winter Break. It was I who led the janitorial staff on a fruitless mission to discover "that smell". On the day back from break... I found it!
Indeed, it was I who inadvertently dropped a test tube filled with sulphate and it crashed against an air duct, spreading the smell of rotten eggs throughout the ninth grade wing. For that honor, the secretary announced over the speaker system, "anyone choking on the smell in the ninth grade wing, be sure to thank Rhonda Foote". I received many, many "thanks" that week.
It is also possible that, just that very Fall, I had decided to find out if I could make my frog (which I was supposed to be dissecting) jump out the second story window on to the head of my FrienEmy playing tennis on the courts below. The answer, I found, was YES. The result? Detention. (PS, it was well worth it).
All of these events, and my somewhat over eager and scatter brained nature, led Mr. Stanek to his deduction that I would NOT be the best candidate to carry the fruit flies from the closet to his desk.
Days and weeks went by. Every day, my hand flew in the air. Every day, he smirked and said "No".
The final day of the experiment, the jar was bursting with fruit flies. I was almost desperate in my quest to carry that damn jar. Mr. Stanek looked at me. He paused. "Okay, Rhonda. You can go get the jar. Do NOT drop it".
"I won't", I sang out, leaping from my chair and skipping to the closet.
I am quite sure you see this coming.
I raised the jar triumphantly above my head. I marched in to the classroom and.... I tripped.
The jar fell in slow motion before my eyes.
SMASH.
Seemingly millions of fruit flies quickly filled the classroom. Windows were flung open. Someone opened the door in to the hall way before they could be stopped.
Guess what? Fruit flies travel fast. They were EVERYWHERE in our school in very rapid succession.
Mr. Stanek slowly turned and made eye contact with me. I waited. He never yelled. He pulled out his desk chair, sat down, and shook his head. "See," he said, "I knew you would drop it".
Fate? Perhaps. I have always been the girl to drop the jar, the ball, the secret. I am always excited and hurried and on a bigger mission. It isn't that I do not have focus, it is that my focus is so large scaled that I am always ready to take the next step, instead of focusing on the step I am on.
This means I have had five concussions, many relationships, and am extremely creative. I believe in the joy of making a mistake and the obligatory apology. I know that I am trustworthy, but not always trusted.
As I have aged, the fruit fly jar episode has stayed with me. I want to thank Mr. Stanek. He gave me the opportunity to carry that jar. Even when I dropped it, he never yelled at me. It is a teacher and parenting tool I often refer back to.
Go ahead, let your kid carry the good china, or do the laundry filled with your best clothes. They might drop a plate. They may ruin a sweater. But, the life lesson of trust you give them and the need to make their own mistake is beyond measure.
Dare to drop the fruit fly jar.
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