Classroom prizes are not all the same

A vat of canned ravioli roughly the size of my head

It's really all a matter of perspective. While listening to the morning announcements, I perked up when I heard mention of a contest. I love contests! Apparently the prize could be obtained by the diligent and earnest writing of an essay outlining the importance of water.  I nodded sagely...Yes, water is very important. But more importantly, what was the prize? A book?!?! I love books!!! A book about...water??? I could feel my nose doing that involuntary scrunch-y-up thing so I turned away from my impressionable 4th graders who might not want anything more in this world than a book about...water. I penned a quick postie note to a fellow teacher threatening imminent death should she ever decide that I needed such a book. Apparently some students in the school (okay...let's be honest here...MOST of the students in the school) operate on a much higher plane of graciousness than I do and decided to enter the contest in hopes of adding this volume of water (math-related joke...insert scholarly snicker here) to their much-beloved (or much-despised...See! It's all a matter of perspective) teacher's classroom library.

Now...all of this comes in right after MY introduction of our monthly 4th grade classroom prize. Uncle Virgil from Alaska had just departed, leaving in his wake, a grocery-store supply of food. One or two of these items caused great consternation among members of my family. "What on earth are we going to do with a vat of ravioli," my husband of the sensitive palette complained. For once, I had to agree. Like Pandora's box, once you've opened a giant can of ravioli...you're committed. An impromptu council meeting was called and ideas were entertained. We decided that, while plausible, a 108 ounce can of ravioli shouldn't be used as a murder weapon. First of all...we couldn't settle on who we would murder. Or is it whom we should murder (grammar is SO important when planning a felony)? "This isn't Clue," Brad informed us, "a can of ravioli doesn't quite rank with a candelabra, a wrench or a rope." True. We also ruled out using it for shotgun practice because we were growing concerned with how violent our family's brainstorming sessions had become. "How about using it as a classroom prize," Sydney asked. I laughed as Savannah added, "You've used stranger." True. Before I could protest, the gavel dropped and the meeting happily dispersed.

So I dragged in the vat of ravioli and presented it to my class of 9-year-olds. I was not prepared for

the reaction. Cheers erupted. Dancing commenced. There were giddy giggles, hugging and strategy sessions where teams of students plotted to share reward tickets in the hopes of hitting the "lottery." Our moment of silence following the Pledge had never been so sincere. I was stunned. Again...perspective. The reaction to the book of water was slightly less enthusiastic. Does this mean that I am a better teacher than that of Mr. King of the third grade? Of course not (hee hee). In fact, if we look at these two prizes side-by-side, one would note that the book on water has the potential to better the life of the winner for years to come, creating a positive ripple effect, if you will. My prize, on the other hand, will just make the winner gassy. See? I told you! It's all a (states of) matter of perspective. And with this new perspective, I can't help but wonder now, as a result of this little experience, how my students would like a giant bottle of V-8?