I’d been promising the kids we could go outside for class as soon as the weather was warm enough, and today was the day. By the time I got to my last class, the temperature was 65 degrees and spring was in the air. The idea was to spread out on the grass, listen to the sounds of nature and write poetry. It’s hard to say who was more excited to spend the last part of the day outside, me or the kids. I’d tapped into my teacher superpowers and gotten my grades in on time, despite disasters yesterday that included dilated eyes (see yesterday’s slice) and a crashed computer. So liberation was in the air.
We headed outside to ‘our spot’ and settled in. There was some squiggling and jostling to find the perfect place (there always is), but it didn’t take long for the kids to space themselves six feet apart, take off their masks, and start writing.
Silence, punctuated with screeches from the playground and the chatter of bus drivers waiting for the end of the day, settled around us, until…
“Hi baby! Where did you come from?”
From the corner of my eye I could see one of our bus drivers heading between the buses toward the parking lot, talking to some sweet thing.
No one in my crew moved. Our school is in a remote corner of New England and stray critters are not unusual. But as we gathered our things to head back in for dismissal, we heard, “Hey! That’s my dog!’
I turned to see Ella, the only girl in this Thursday/Friday group of boys, heading toward the middle of the parking lot to a shaking little brindle bundle of love, writing notebook tucked under her arm. It was her dog - come to find her girl.
So we did the only thing we could. We gathered up that loyal pup, brought her inside and called her mom.
I suspect we’ll have some great dog poetry come Monday.
We headed outside to ‘our spot’ and settled in. There was some squiggling and jostling to find the perfect place (there always is), but it didn’t take long for the kids to space themselves six feet apart, take off their masks, and start writing.
Silence, punctuated with screeches from the playground and the chatter of bus drivers waiting for the end of the day, settled around us, until…
“Hi baby! Where did you come from?”
From the corner of my eye I could see one of our bus drivers heading between the buses toward the parking lot, talking to some sweet thing.
No one in my crew moved. Our school is in a remote corner of New England and stray critters are not unusual. But as we gathered our things to head back in for dismissal, we heard, “Hey! That’s my dog!’
I turned to see Ella, the only girl in this Thursday/Friday group of boys, heading toward the middle of the parking lot to a shaking little brindle bundle of love, writing notebook tucked under her arm. It was her dog - come to find her girl.
So we did the only thing we could. We gathered up that loyal pup, brought her inside and called her mom.
I suspect we’ll have some great dog poetry come Monday.