Yesterday in class, the students made presentations to the rest of us in preparation for our Chicago History Fair that evening. After each student shared their research, the rest of us would fill out a sheet which would give responses to the presenter so that they could improve their presentation. The room was quiet as were writing down our responses and evaluation for the student who had just presented her work on H.H. Holmes while the next presenter was getting their board set up.
It was then that the printer in the back of the room where I was standing began to loudly print something. The noise of the printer was startling. There was no one in the class with a computer that might have elicited something to print. Everyone looked toward the noise and toward me. I lifted the corner of the sheet that had emerged. “Well, this is clearly a sacred moment. The title of this paper says ‘Divine Guidance.'”
Someone began humming the Twilight Zone theme song. There was laughter. I turned my head in many directions looking upward toward the heavens, shoulders scrunched up near my ears, palms up facing the ceiling. Routinely accepting this miracle like any other form of mild distraction, the students rolled their eyes and went back to writing their responses.
I, on the other hand, was tickled by the auspiciousness.