Yesterday as I was sweeping up my classroom at the end of the day, I got to thinking about leaves and feathers and little paper frizzies. When my world was centered mostly around the house and farm, I felt like I sort of learned to read the litter of leaf and bark and feather, of stone and seedpod. Now my association have shifted from the glorious beings of tree and field to the glorious beings of teenagers, and I wonder: can I learn to read the weather of the day through the little bits of paper and pens and pencils, the candy wrappers and strands of hair that I sweep up before I go home? Teenagers are like trees, I think, dropping little bits of this and that as they go about their day. I’m listening and watching. . .
1. Kingfisher chattering along the MillStream
2. I’m meeting Mara today! A dear and wonderful friend whom I have never met in person is coming to see me!
3. The way the planning of one day gives naturally on to the planning of the next day. I get stumped about how to proceed with the lesson plans, but then I step back and look at it from a bit of a distance, and suddenly the next thing falls into place. And the great thing about it is that the planning muscle is one which is strengthened with use, so the more I do it, the less anxiety-producing it will become.
4. Comfortable shoes (this is a reminder to myself: yesterday’s shoes were not comfortable)
5. The moment when I get home in the afternoons and see those boys and Jon. Shiningest moment of the day.
May we walk in Beauty!