In precalc we were working some problem where we had to find a diver’s maximum height after she drove off a board. We got an answer of sixteen feet (#contrivedproblems). I said, “Hey, swimmers in the room,” because this year I somehow have a plethora of them, “is that even a good height?”
I looked up at the ceiling. “How high do you think this ceiling is? 12 feet? Less?”
The kids stared up pensively.
And then–in the very back–we heard a voice: “The standard ceiling height in the United States is ten feet.”
We all burst into laughter. Maybe it was a had-to-be-there moment. But it was great.
Once we recovered from our laughter, the kid went on to defend his position: “Guys, it’s standard code.”
I love my kids. I love the weird facts they know. I love the that they laugh with each other. I love that they take care of each other. I love the community they’ve created for themselves and for me.