FAST FINGERS

There is nothing finer than an adrenaline rush on a Friday afternoon.  It was nearly the end of the day when Miss Slemmer summoned me via telephone to the elementary computer lab.  Routine problems come to my office in a steady stream all day long.  But only on unusual occasions am I subpoenaed for an emergency.  In most cases, my presence is sought out for things involving copious amounts of blood, incidences of fainting, serious injury, or a host of other unmentionables.  In fourteen years of school nursing I have never before been beckoned to a classroom for the category of issue I was asked to tackle that particular Friday. 

Apparently I have achieved a certain reputation with some of the third grade students. Visits for illness and injury are recorded via my office computer using some software my marvelously talented (and arguably geeky) husband created for me. Unbeknownst to me, when I see the students for problems during the school day, they have been paying some close attention to my typing skills.

The class had been attempting to conquer a certain touch typing challenge for a couple of weeks. When no one in the class was able to complete it within the time-frame allowed, the students asked Miss Slemmer to bring me in.  



They were curious to see if my fingers were fast enough to triumph over the typing program they were attempting to defeat, namely Type to Learn 4 – Agents of Information. 




The teacher tells me that there is one part of every new level the students dread.  It is called "Drone Control" and it is reportedly very picky about timing and accuracy, making it difficult for the students to beat.

I will admit it took three tries until I even understood the system.  I could blame the internal transition I needed to achieve, switching from medical emergency mode to nimble finger mode in less than a minute. But that is just an excuse.  Indeed, there were issues.  Aside from trying to locate what I was supposed to be typing on the foreign screen, I am accustomed to having backspace and delete keys at my disposal on the keyboard.  Neither was available to me during this particular typing challenge. 

Grace Williams was offering up suggestions to my left.  After my first failed attempt, Owen Latt (to my right) was knowledgeably redirecting me back to the starting point.  Both were a great encouragement, talking me through the particulars of the test.  

Though the correct terminology is typist, Owen tells me I've been dubbed
the "Turbo Typer."  I will unabashedly answer to that title because
it has been so lovingly bestowed.  

Other students were cheerfully calling out instructions from their seats and sending positive reassurance my way.  I felt the full weight of their enthusiastic expectations as I tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

After my second "restart", one of the sympathetic third-grade onlookers cautioned the others. “Don’t watch her, you’re making her nervous!”  They were firm and confident, trying their utmost to give the pinch-hitting school nurse a viable shot at victory. 

To my unexpected delight, as I was plowing my way through the constant flow of nonsensical letter combinations, the screen went wonderfully blank.  This was apparently an indication that I had managed to reach the end of the gibberish words I had been prompted to type. The students were watching…and let’s just say the crowd went wild. My small fans were gratifyingly supportive, showing their glee with unbridled cheers and thunderous clapping. 

Having never mastered the art of the curtsey, I took a small bow as I exited the room, leaving my adoring public to their work.

I just never know what to expect during the course of a day.  But surely I’m blessed to spend my working hours with such an entertaining (and in this case hearteningly optimistic) group of students.  Have I mentioned I love these kids?