(This is part of the Slice of Life project at Two Writing Teachers)
It was rush-time, the end of the hectic day with the closing bell just lingering in the air and desks slamming shut, when I turned around and almost bumped right smack into one my of students. It was the same student whom I talked to yesterday and again this morning about staying organized and on task and all that. The same student I worry about when he goes off to a charter school next year. The student who needs so much structure and guidance, it worries me to no end and sometimes drives me nutty.
He held his hands up towards me. They were cupped together with something in it, held gently.
“Mr. H, here is a muffin for you,” he said, smiling.
“A … muffin?” I was keeping an eye on the crowd near the door, and listening for announcements. I tried to shut all that out and concentrate on the moment. It wasn’t easy, given the commotion around me. But I did.
“I had it as an extra for snack and I wanted to give to someone. I want you to have it.”
“Oh,” I said, “thanks,” and took the twisted plastic baggie from his hand that held a small, corn muffin. I held it up to look at it but really, I was looking at him.
“I want to give it to a great teacher and that’s you,” and he smiled again with a light in his eye. “You’re a great teacher.”
I swear, I could have hugged him right then and there. I almost did. Instead, I smiled back at him and looked at the muffin, and patted his shoulder. “Thank you, xxx, I appreciate that. Thank you for the muffin.”
And then, the kids were out the door in a flash and I was left there, in a quiet classroom, looking at this silent muffin, just wondering about the magic that can sometimes unfold at the strangest of times.
Peace (in the hustle-bustle),