The Sun is Dancing

Twenty-two vacant desks line the classroom while the sun sneaks under the straggly green window shades and makes its way to dance on the bare desktops.  A few discarded pencils cradled in the pencil holders remain, but all paper, books, backpacks have vanished.   The cerulean blue bulletin board remains lined with images of Hamlet's questioning of humanity; life; and our eternal existence: from dust to dust.  It sets a nostalgic mood. I too am set to question and wonder about "how noble in reason and infinite in faculty" we are formed and made and yet, how like dust, time simply vanishes, is no more. In the background the halls are echoing silence.  No laughter; no Broland; no Job calls; no rap; nothing but silence.

I can feel my heart beating in my chest as I search for the words to say; I want to reflect on the wonder of this year, but my heart is anxious to put my thoughts into words.  Should I try to say goodbye?  Should I try to make an insightful comment about moving on, about following dreams; about finding one's self.  No, I say to my heart,  just sit in this silent moment and think about the beauty, wonder, laughter, thoughts, and challenges that occurred in room 304b.  

I see the faces of my students as I look across those empty desks.  Conversations resonate in my head and a smile sweeps across my face as I recall the students who have graced me with their unique talents, their thoughtfulness, their zany ways; and their myriad of insights.  This isn't like dust at all--these memories dancing in my head while the sun dances on the desks won't just disappear.  The memories will fade and change just as the sun fades and changes as the time of the year changes but they won't disappear.  

For now, I will celebrate the beauty of spring, the peace of the hallways, and the joy of sending seniors onto their next step in their journey.  In the fall, I will look for the rays of the sun on the desks before a new year begins, and I will remind myself of why I teach.  I will remind myself this classroom is about understanding that we has humans, as those who are "noble in reason and infinite in faculty," must continue to consider, in the words of Shakespeare: "what is a man" and find a definition for who we are and who we are to become.

A Sunflower; A Bird; Fireworks

A sunflower:

There is a move in yoga called a sunflower; I love it.  You stand with your feet shoulder width apart and with your hands raised above your head.  In a grand sweeping motion, bring your hands swooping down to the ground in front of you while bending your knees and gather the air in front of you while criss-crossing your hands.  Return your hands to the sky while straightening your knees: repeat.  Smile.

A bird:

Driving up Pelham Road, I have felt giddy the last two weeks.  Lining the hill are maple trees with lemon-lime fluffy pompoms of leafy substance.  They seem to sing with joy.  In an attempt to share the joy with the budding trees, we rolled down the windows, pointed our hands toward the sky, and began to flap our human wings up and down as we cruised through the forested avenue.  

Our laughter grew as we passed a dark-haired, scruffy, construction-type working man in his dilapidated truck going down the hill.  Both times that we grew wings and flew in our avion, our new friend passed us and immediately joined us in our imaginary flight.  The looks that passed from driver to driver were ones of amazement, joy, and friendship.

Fireworks:

I filled my white mug with coffee, grabbed the cream from the fridge, and poured the usual amount into the steamy brew.  The cream made its way to the bottom of the mug and on its return to the brim it scattered and danced in C, S, and curly-cue type patterns.  I giggled as I imagined my mug bursting with the glory of fireworks.

Thoughts:

Some inertly tantalizing sensation occurs when what was once just an ordinary movement becomes a beautiful flower, a carefree bird, or dazzling fireworks.  Be on the look out for ways nature sneaks into the mundane; take a risk to trust the pattern of something other than an ordinary human, let yourself imagine more beauty than what you see at first glance.

Each spring the earth is transformed; me too!