Six minutes into

(My last day)

You arrive early. Way ahead of the time you are required to be here. You have already been awake for hours, priming both your spirit and your mind for the wee cherubs who will come your way in a few moments.

You want to give them the best day you possibly can … almost more than you want anything in all the world at this moment.

You are constantly, silently, subconsciously reminding yourself that Love is the Answer to all you may face this day - as you have done every day for several 3rd-grader lifetimes on end.

You lean forward in your chair, listening for that first hint of the invisible patter of little feet prancing toward you from down the hall.

Ready or not, here they come! Some are jubilant. Some are sad. All are happy to see you. For many, it’s the best part of their day … getting to come to school.

A little girl named Destiny is the first soul to round the corner to your room. She suddenly stumbles and falls to the floor. You can immediately tell she’s not hurt, but it causes a chain reaction behind her.

So you leap to your feet and shout, “Safe!” in your Sunday-best Little League umpire voice, then quickly run to the window in an attempt to divert all attention to a butterfly fluttering by (even children who just fell to the carpet cannot worry about falling and watch a butterfly at the same time).

Suddenly Robby places a rock into your hand and begins to tell you all about it, oblivious to all else going on around him. Right now, you are his world.

Cindy’s chirpy-loud voice over-rides Robby’s to proceed to tell you all about the big family argument that happened at her apartment late last night. 

Timmy mopes in and plops down on a chair, his backpack still on, staring blankly with dead fish eyes.

Derek streaks into the room with the energy of Thing One and Thing Two combined, nearly knocking over a container full of water you have ready for a science experiment. You are thirty seconds into your school day.