Elementary
I work with kids. That's my job. I shepard, entertain, organize, teach, police kids.
Today at lunch I'm helping Atticus put sunscreen on. He tells me that he would put sunscreen on his face by himself, but he can't tell where his eyes are. He's going into the first grade. As I rub in the susnscreen, he says the parts of his face along with me: chin, cheeks, nose, forehead. And then I see it, an entire world being formed, dynamically, magnetically pulling in everything that happens to reflect any given particle of light upon each of those irises. So much being created.
That said, thirty minutes later, I'm turning around from escorting Clay to the park bathroom--for soccer day camp, we spend most of the day at the park--to see Ben shouting, halfway across the park, at Moe, who is sitting on the ground, hands over his face. I know that they are fifth graders. As I get closer, I see blood. I hear words, torqued beyond whatever words were made for. I smell nothing but summer grass, strong, green, thick summer air.
So what happened? Who knows the build-up, but Moe tackles Ben, Moe pulls the drawstring out of Ben's shorts, Moe gets up, Ben gets up, Ben punches Moe in the face, Ben punches Moe in the face again.
Two hours later, I'm making balloon animals. Ben and Moe are at home, their mothers took them awhile ago. Reese wants a pink mouse. This is the fifth mouse I have made today. This is the fifth mouse I have ever made.
Today at lunch I'm helping Atticus put sunscreen on. He tells me that he would put sunscreen on his face by himself, but he can't tell where his eyes are. He's going into the first grade. As I rub in the susnscreen, he says the parts of his face along with me: chin, cheeks, nose, forehead. And then I see it, an entire world being formed, dynamically, magnetically pulling in everything that happens to reflect any given particle of light upon each of those irises. So much being created.
That said, thirty minutes later, I'm turning around from escorting Clay to the park bathroom--for soccer day camp, we spend most of the day at the park--to see Ben shouting, halfway across the park, at Moe, who is sitting on the ground, hands over his face. I know that they are fifth graders. As I get closer, I see blood. I hear words, torqued beyond whatever words were made for. I smell nothing but summer grass, strong, green, thick summer air.
So what happened? Who knows the build-up, but Moe tackles Ben, Moe pulls the drawstring out of Ben's shorts, Moe gets up, Ben gets up, Ben punches Moe in the face, Ben punches Moe in the face again.
Two hours later, I'm making balloon animals. Ben and Moe are at home, their mothers took them awhile ago. Reese wants a pink mouse. This is the fifth mouse I have made today. This is the fifth mouse I have ever made.