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This story was represented to me as being true. Maybe some part of it is true. It could be true, and it ought to be true, so I'm going to claim it is true.
A young lady in her early twenties has graduated with a degree in primary school Education from a rather liberal college in the Northeast or upper Midwest that indoctrinated her with the notion that rough play in childhood years sometimes tends to lead to violence in adulthood. For a while this was a widespread philosophy in schools of education, although more recently most educators have taken a more hands-off, boys-will-be-boys attitude. Whatever, with her shiny new diploma, the young teacher lands a job in an elementary school in the deep Southeast.
The scene is the school playground at recess for the 1st/2nd/3rd-graders. Our young lady teacher is observing the kids at a distance, while conversing with the school principal, an older gentleman from the region. As they talk, the teacher is watching, and is somewhat baffled and concerned by, the activities of a group of the older (3rd grade) boys, and one girl. This group has been slowly moving in a very tight pack, up and down the sidewalk beside the school building, shoulder-to-shoulder, while vigorously jostling each other and making continuous growling noises. Every so often, one or other of the group will be forcefully ejected, either off the sidewalk, where he falls and rolls in the playground dust, or into the side of the school building, where he falls in a heap. In either case, the ejected individual or individuals get up laughing and rejoin the jostling, growling group.
The nice young teacher turns to her principal and says, "Don't you think we should put a stop to that sort of violent play?" The old principal, who thinks he has a good idea of what's going on, replies (Carolina accents from this point), "Weeell, let's you and I just go over and see what they'a up to."
Just as the two adults get close to the growling, elbowing pack, the lone girl is the one who gets bounced out. She goes sprawling in the dust, tumbling and spinning and flopping in what close observation would detect as over-exaggerated fashion. Having come to a momentary stop, she starts to get up and dust herself off as the lady teacher rushes over and pleads, "Oh honey, are you okay?" The little girl smiles up at the teacher and says, "Oh yes, Ma'am! We wuz just tradin' paint" The teacher looks even more confused, but the principal is overcome by chuckling, since he now knows for sure what's going on. And the pack of boys, who came to a stop when the grownups approached, are all shouting their explanation: "Oh, Ma'am, we wuz playin' NASCAR!! You can't play NASCAR without bumpin' and crashes, y'know!!"
At this point, the little girl flashes a triumphant grin and confides, "And I'm Danica Patrick!!"
A young lady in her early twenties has graduated with a degree in primary school Education from a rather liberal college in the Northeast or upper Midwest that indoctrinated her with the notion that rough play in childhood years sometimes tends to lead to violence in adulthood. For a while this was a widespread philosophy in schools of education, although more recently most educators have taken a more hands-off, boys-will-be-boys attitude. Whatever, with her shiny new diploma, the young teacher lands a job in an elementary school in the deep Southeast.
The scene is the school playground at recess for the 1st/2nd/3rd-graders. Our young lady teacher is observing the kids at a distance, while conversing with the school principal, an older gentleman from the region. As they talk, the teacher is watching, and is somewhat baffled and concerned by, the activities of a group of the older (3rd grade) boys, and one girl. This group has been slowly moving in a very tight pack, up and down the sidewalk beside the school building, shoulder-to-shoulder, while vigorously jostling each other and making continuous growling noises. Every so often, one or other of the group will be forcefully ejected, either off the sidewalk, where he falls and rolls in the playground dust, or into the side of the school building, where he falls in a heap. In either case, the ejected individual or individuals get up laughing and rejoin the jostling, growling group.
The nice young teacher turns to her principal and says, "Don't you think we should put a stop to that sort of violent play?" The old principal, who thinks he has a good idea of what's going on, replies (Carolina accents from this point), "Weeell, let's you and I just go over and see what they'a up to."
Just as the two adults get close to the growling, elbowing pack, the lone girl is the one who gets bounced out. She goes sprawling in the dust, tumbling and spinning and flopping in what close observation would detect as over-exaggerated fashion. Having come to a momentary stop, she starts to get up and dust herself off as the lady teacher rushes over and pleads, "Oh honey, are you okay?" The little girl smiles up at the teacher and says, "Oh yes, Ma'am! We wuz just tradin' paint" The teacher looks even more confused, but the principal is overcome by chuckling, since he now knows for sure what's going on. And the pack of boys, who came to a stop when the grownups approached, are all shouting their explanation: "Oh, Ma'am, we wuz playin' NASCAR!! You can't play NASCAR without bumpin' and crashes, y'know!!"
At this point, the little girl flashes a triumphant grin and confides, "And I'm Danica Patrick!!"
