Where's My Stag Beetle?

He arrived sixteen minutes late, looking like he'd just woken up under a railroad car. He'd thrown on an army green muscle tee with a stretched-out neck advertising "Alternative Rock," and the skin was peeling off his sun-browned arms. The child had whitish sleepy-dirt around his mouth, and if his hair hadn't been shaved down to half an inch, I know he'd have caught some breakfast in it. It was 1:00 in the afternoon.

According to the file, the boy's first name was Ryotaro, and in parentheses, (Chris). Rumors of his identity crisis had reached me, so when I asked "What's your name?" and he looked at the floor, I decided not to press the matter. Instead, I went on to inquire about the contents of his pink-handled jar.

He hadn't let go of the pink handle since entering the classroom. His clear black eyes regarded it mischievously now. Slowly, slowly he turned the lid and we looked half-smilingly at each other in worldless anticipation. A grubby fist reached in and produced the answer.

"It's my stag beetle." He was awfully proud.

I praised the enormous, antlered beetle in every way I thought possible and discovered that Ryotaro (Chris) feeds it watermelon three times a day. We both clung to the comfortably non-academic atmosphere brought about by the insect, but the time for covert, "back-door" learning had arrived. We played "Where's my Stag Beetle?" It was a lesson on prepositions.

"Close your eyes. OK, open them! Where's my stag beetle?"

"It's under the table!"
"It's in my mouth!"
"It's next to the sticker box!"
"It's between the body parts poster and the dinosaur!"
"It's on my head!"
"It's at the door!"
"It's by the plastic tomato!"

For what seemed like several minutes (and probably was), we placed the commendably tolerant stag beetle in things, between them, and on, next to, by, and under them. It was the lesson of a lifetime, and the stag beetle knew it. His black shell gleamed a healthy watermelon sheen and his ever-sarcastic eyes rang out with the joy of being useful. His owner, too, was filled with a sense of purpose, having supplied the only material necessary for an entire lesson on prepositions of place.

We said goodbye like old friends. Ryotaro (Chris) took an extra jelly snack for the stag beetle. I laid down on the cot in the teacher's lounge and softly cried myself to sleep.