It rained last night, and on my walk this morning, there were several earthworms who had been forced out of the ground.
Earthworms always make me think of this period in my life when I was working as an Assistive Technology Tutor. I travelled to different schools, and I worked with students in small groups or one-on-one, showing them how to use assistive technology, primarily to support their reading and writing skills.
My first session with a student was always something of a fact-finding mission. I would try to get to know them, and what they were working on in different classes, but I would also try to find out what they really loved, and then I’d go away and between sessions I’d search for readings or develop writing prompts connected to those interests.
There was one student, a boy in grade three, who I had a really hard time connecting with. He wasn’t interested in any of the readings I brought in, he didn’t want to write a story in response to the visual prompt I offered, and he didn’t want to use his laptop for anything except flinging himself across the keyboard to show me how much he didn’t want to be there.
And then one day our session was right after recess, and he came in all excited, and, for once, he couldn’t wait to talk to me. About earthworms.
They were his new obsession. He told me everything you could possibly want to know about earthworms.
That they don’t have eyes but can sense light. That they live burrowed underground. That they have more than one heart. That if a piece of them gets cut off, they can re-grow it, but that if their skin gets dry, they’ll die.
I was at the same school for that whole day, and the office I was working in had a window that looked out onto the schoolyard, and at lunch, I saw the boy out there. He was picking up the worms that were in the centre of the yard, and he was cradling them in his hands and carrying them over to a spot on the grass where no one could step on them.
Each time I see an earthworm now, I think of him, and it’s like a gift because I’m reminded to find the things that excite me, find out all I can about them and then share that enthusiasm with anyone who will listen.
And I’m also reminded too to cradle those ideas in my palms, to care for them with as much tender intention as that boy did with each earthworm he was trying to save.
