This year, each one of the little boys were held, as babies, by their teachers. These two teachers both taught at least one or all of their older brothers. If there’s one thing that brings comfort to my heart throughout the day — it’s that those teachers know us. They know our family. Oh, but there are vast differences between each one of the boys — and it’s funny how the boys never tell me that one of their teachers ever calls them by another brohter’s name. Is it because the teachers are just that good? Or are the boys just that different?
On the morning of the first day of school, somehow, I miraculously had a few minutes in complete isolation with each one of their teachers. A rare gift. The hallways were bustling with parents snapping pictures, as the crowd made its way throughout the school, as kids hollered to catch up with long lost friends — now reunited. But inside these two classrooms , things were curiously quiet and empty.
“This is my big chance, ” I thought to myself. I couldn’t wait to tell them that while one says, “I don’t do rollercoasters,” this one will say, “Let’s wake the beast.” Or, remember how easily writing came to this one — remember all of those creative stories he used to write? Well, this one is just like that when it comes to math.” And more… there were so many more things just bursting in my head to share.
But I didn’t say a word about any of that. Standing in that classroom, void of children, with brightly colored name tags, shinny floors, “You Can Do It Posters,” and de-cluttered desks, I felt as if I was standing in the center of a flower that just had not quite opened yet. A bud. I didn’t want to disturb it’s opening.
So, I smiled instead and asked both teachers, “How was your summer.” I listened and learned.
Soon, they’ll learn something about the variations of these boys. Who knows what will unfold anyway — if I just stay out of their way.