the garden view outside my windows
first graders with their little fingers
discovering the soil textures
the library, brimming with color, and bright new books
the long hallway from 1918, original wood floors
beneath my comfy, frumpy , teacher clogs
the friendship between myself and my teaching partner
when you move schools, you lose touch, really.
My daughter, below my classroom
thriving in kindergarten
Stealing hugs and kisses at recesses, fire drills, assemblies.