During the summer months, the classroom is empty, other than the few days in which the teacher would come in, look around, maybe tidy things up a bit, and perhaps put up a few more decorative items. The place is peaceful for the most part, unblemished by the havoc of small children. It’s eerie almost, the teacher thinks. It’s not supposed to be like this.
There are new faces in the fall — new names and new personalities. The teacher keeps a bottle of pepper spray in one of the drawers by her desk...just in case. One of the girls, Sal, comes up to the teacher after the first day, and asks about bunnies. I love bunnies, she says. I just really really REALLY love them. The teacher smiles, laughs even — that’s great, she says, that’s wonderful.
***
I can see that things have changed in some ways, and the same in others. The windows are cleaner now, so the room appears brighter during the day. The desks have been slightly rearranged to make it easier for the teacher to navigate across the room to reach all of the kids.
Screams still pierce the hallways during recess, and the teacher still often sits alone by her desk, thinking about things and different people. It’s raining one day, cracking thunder every once in a while. I’m standing outside, reciting the alphabet slowly. It’s done, I say out loud. I’m finished.
Hallelujah!!!!!
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