- One solitary degree outside. An extra sweater. Peach tea in the coffee.
- They give me an apple, red and shining and perfect—a benediction. Go and do what you are made for. New teachers are always nervous.
- Artists ship.
- “Was that a story you just told me? About when I was a tiny baby?” “Yeah, baby.” “Why?” “Well, everything is a story, baby. Everything you do. Even when God made the world, he did it with a story.” “Wow….”
- I hate phoning it in. I could skip to catch up, but I’m enjoying doing something outside my usual. Something is better than nothing.
- She sits in my lap briefly at circle time, my arms wrapped around her not-so-little-anymore body. I sense her growing strength, her growing understanding, her growing up. I squeeze her too hard and she squirms away, sensing only adventure.
- Tessellations of people.
- I champion the virtues of the internet, of social media. They champion the virtues of my voice, of my call.
- “What is time for?”
- We stay up far too late talking about what he saw, heard, learned. I’m bleary and fading but can’t leave the moment of witnessing his transformation.
