- November 17, 2024
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This past weekend, I took my next-door neighbor, Jesse Hatfield, 9, to a softball game. Although he told me before the game started that he wanted to play baseball when he got older, he didn’t understand much about the game, and he asked enough questions to keep me busy the whole game.
“Why do the players keep yelling at each other? What happens when the ball goes out? Do they all get a chance to bat? Who do you think is going to win?” said Jesse in his innocent, light voice, only getting warmed up.
After every out, Jesse discovered a new angle to question me about.
“Are they playing a country song? What are the people doing in the blue shirts and gray pants (umpires)?”
After the third inning, I took him to the concession stand. Finishing as much chicken tenders and Hawaiian Punch as he could, Jesse hopped off the fourth row of the bleachers, with newfound energy, to blast more questions.
“Can they hit an airplane with the ball?” he inquired.
“No, it’s too high in the air,” I told him.
“Well, can they hit that bird?” countered Jesse, as a black bird flew away from the stadium into the nearby trees.
“Well, maybe, but a baseball player has hit a bird before,” I replied, briefing him on the famous Randy Johnson pitch.
At the end of the game, the winning team splashed a teammate with a Gatorade bath. I knew that would bewilder him.
“Did they dump water on her because she was sweaty?” he said.
Afterward, I asked him if he had a good time, and with a big smile, he screamed “Yes!” which made all the questioning worth it. He gained a lot more knowledge, and my brain was exercised. It was a good reminder: When you grow weary of teaching, kids will grow weary of learning. Let them ask away, and don’t refuse; they’re only having fun.
