Squeezing By

I am walking down the hall behind a dozen eighth-grade boys. They come to the set of double doors at the end of the hallway. The first boy flings open the door all the way so that it’s open enough for the first five boys to effortlessly walk through. The door starts to close, but it’s closing slowly enough for the next three boys to easily make it through as well.

So now the door is over half-way closed, but this doesn’t stop the ninth boy from successfully slipping through without touching the door. Surely, I think to myself, this next boy is going to have to reopen the door. Nope. Boy number ten also turns sideways and slips through.

This is more exciting than watching a snowboarding championship on t.v.

Boy number eleven moves toward the ever-diminishing opening. There is no way he’s going to make it. The opening is too small. But, rather than stick out his foot to stop the door or –heaven’s forbid- use his hand to actually open the door, boy number eleven quickens his pace. The door is closing too quickly. He can’t make it. But no, boy number eleven gets thin and manages to slide through without the door touching any part of his body.

Thrilling.

Sadly, boy number twelve has to actually re-open the door. Poor sap.

I love middle schoolers.

-Jack

This morning I'm walking behind a small group of eighth-grade boys. The first one flings opened the door and they all walk through. I pick up my pace. The door is closing. I gauge the size of the opening. I glide through the doorway just before it closes behind me.

Yes.