The sun is trying its best, in the cloud filled skies, to come up over the mountains and be seen this good first day of the weekend. For now the temperature stands at 61 degrees but it promises to climb upwards into the low 80's by day's end. There is even a cool little southeasterly breeze coming up off over the mountains, making Mike's clown fish wind sock dance in its 8 mph breeze. Hoping that sunny skies prevail and that little breeze continues because today is laundry day around this house and I am sure to have 4 clotheslines full of it by noon time. I hope the weather is good for you guys as well, no matter where you may be living on this place called planet Earth.
The skies just now, looking southward to the San Juan Mountains. They are barren of snow for now but I'm sure in a month or so more that they will be frosted like icing on a cupcake with the white stuff.
Something happened to me at school yesterday afternoon and the something happened at just the right moment in time. It was such a profound experience that I nearly sat down at the day's end yesterday, after the kids had gone, to blog about it. Yet I didn't. I just kept thinking about it. In my mind and in my heart. When I woke up this morning, there it was again. And so now is its time. Teaching children can be a most humbling experience. There are moments when it almost brings you to tears, the good kind of course. That is indeed what happened to me.
We were at the midway point of the afternoon yesterday, a Friday that marked the end of our third week together. We'd been busy, really busy and the kids had just gone through a second day of very productive math times together. I'm not too crazy about using a ton of worksheets every day, much preferring to use very few of them. So yesterday for our math time we worked in small groups spread out all over the floor with manipulatives, dry erase boards/markers and one solitary response sheet to attempt to solve a problem involving gummy bears. At the end of the 45-minute math lesson, we all began to clean up our messes as soon as we heard our "cleanup song" (Mason Williams', Classical Gas) start to play. 3:02 later, we were mostly at our desks and ready, save for a table of stragglers who were just a few steps behind us. I was tired and by the looks on their faces, their brains had just gone through a workout themselves. I was at the front table looking out at them, gazing at their little 6-year old faces, when it hit me all of a sudden, just how young they really are. Little people. In the whole scheme of life, barely even born. And they were mine to teach and make ready for second grade in a matter of only 9 months.
In my heart, I felt remiss because I realized that in our fast-paced first three weeks of school, I had forgotten to tell them one very important thing. I had neglected to tell them how much their teacher loves them. Each one of them. Every table group of them. All of them. And so I proceeded to do so and as I told them, I felt my eyes begin to sting and a tear escaped and fell down the side of my face. Bless their little hearts, they thought I was sad and I explained to them that no, sometimes people feel like crying because they are so happy about something. I told them my heart was full of love for them, even during the times when we had trouble in class. I said to them that I wouldn't trade them for anything, not even a million dollars and they smiled.
Just as I was finishing up talking to them, the strangest thing happened. For a brief moment, perhaps only a second or two, there was a new kid in class. One that hadn't been there before. Looking out across them, a ways off into the distance I saw a little girl from the "land of long ago and far, far away." She was tiny with big blue eyes, dark brown hair with curls from her mama pin curling them the night before, looking back at me. The little girl smiled a tiny grin that only a six year old can. And she was me. Only there for a second, a remembrance of the fact that I was just like them one time, now nearly 53 years ago. I need to keep that fact in mind more often. A little girl from the flatlands of Kansas was now their teacher. I aim to do my best for them, to bring them to where they need to be. This day and every day here after. I made it and so will they.
The day has begun here now and just like most other weekends, my guess is that this one will fly by at lightning speed. There is much to do around our house as we make things ready for the approaching changes in weather. Somewhere out there, "the 22" are hopefully sound asleep and dreaming wonderful dreams of what their lives will be like. Their teacher will be thinking of them.
Back when I was a kid, just like them :)
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