I had the good fortune to keep the girls yesterday, and although they had their moments, I found myself looking into their open faces and clear eyes and beautiful childlike spirits when I had the chance and dreading the day when real sadness and pain comes their way, when teenage angst takes over, when friends don't love and adore them.
I have a really terrific new book called Teaching with Fire: Poetry That Sustains the Courage to Teach. This one is called First Grade by Ron Koertge:
Until then, every forest
had wolves in it, we thought
it would be fun to wear snowshoes
all the time, and we could talk to water.
So who is this woman with the gray
breath calling out names and pointing
to the little desks we will occupy
for the rest of our lives?
Hopefully they will never have a teacher with gray breath, and hopefully they will never lose the call of imagination and the power to dream. I pray that for them, my sweet little girls.
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