hearts aflame

I accidently set fire to my children yesterday.

It was really a school day like most others, only I was more grumpy than usual (woe to the children!) and just going through the motions of teaching. On days such as these, I generally sit loftily and moodily in my teacher's chair, coldly barking commands from afar and expecting an atmosphere of silence and contemplation.

What I usually get instead is a reflection of my own inner thoughts: broody, sulky, disinterested kids. Oh, the lessons we teach.

So when the fire broke out yesterday, my first impulse was to extinguish it. It started quietly enough, with an obligatory science lesson about the ocean. Then it turned imperceptibly toward benthos, and a faint flicker was seen. Before I knew what was happening, four children with tongues of fire leaping in their little heads were crowded around a computer screen, hungrily researching the most nefarious-looking bottom sea dwellers, yard stick in hand, ready to measure every specimen for maximum impact.

Somewhere in the back of my persnickety mind, thoughts of moving on to a math lesson loosened their grip and began to fade away, finally and reluctantly surrendering themselves to the flames, and I was able to let the rest of my school day be consumed entirely, a warm glow replacing the coldness of my bad attitude.

Thank God for small miracles.

--Teri.