For the Love of Dust Covers, etc.

My youngest, age 4, exclaimed that everything was great today at school. Even though it seems he was born on the right side of the bed, I believed his even brighter description of the day. His teacher is a dream as evidenced by the many moments B breaks into cheerful songs I've never heard. She taught him about authors and illustrators and the purpose of a dust cover. Just yesterday, I walked in for pick-up to find tears and frustration. His teacher successfully reminded him of a story book, one that detailed a storm, a traffic jam, and arguments, that ended with the clouds that cleared to show the sun--at this point, he took a deep, cleansing breath and explained his source of upset without an ounce of whine in sight. That's right, she has her students thinking in metaphors. For students and teachers, the people we meet vary widely. I'm so glad this one of those years that I don't want to see end.