The sunlight dances golden pink across the yard, single rays of light penetrating the shadows. The morning is still, the hush of 6:30 a.m. still in the air as the world wakes from a restless night. Messy hair, still in pajamas, shaking the sleep from my head, I stand there. Wednesday has pressed in hard, my shoulders heavy already beneath the weight of the last 2 days. The darkened basketball court blurs out of focus. Two weeks in and I whisper it in the darkness, the words falling on no ears but my own, "I can't do another day."
First it's just him, the one I thought never studied. He's wrapped up in that white and blue striped hoodie, fingers curled around his pencil. "R.. A.. N.. ran." His voice is a quiet echo by the time it reaches my window. Then comes another to sit beside him, carrying in his hands a short reader. I watch his brow furrow in deep concentration. Head bent, he licks his lips, straining over each letter sound. The minutes pass like this- with the smell of my chai tea and the cool morning air and the hush of their spelling words. The night has been long, and the week even longer still. It's been a week of such beauty-- so much letter sounding-out and sentences read and a love for learning that I hope is taking root in their little hearts. But it's been a week that has left me feeling battered and bruised. There is such a long way to go, and I'm equipped for none of this.
I watch as they trickle out slowly. One… two… three… four… five of them. Each taking their place along the edge of the basketball court, notebooks aligned, helping each other study. It's a beautiful sight for a weary soul. I close my eyes and breathe deep, willing my heart to be still. Because I want to remember every detail of this moment.
The warm mug pressed to my waking lips.
How he dances at each word spelled correctly.
Sweet sunshine warming the earth.
The way his laughter rings loudly.
Tattered notebooks, worn and smudged.
His bottom lip and how he bites it, deep in thought.
The hope that floods my heart.
So many moments I feel like I am failing them. I watch my patience wear thinner and thinner as the same words are sounded out again and again and again. I recall the way I evade those little readers simply because I cannot read the same story yet another time. I see the lessons I could've taught differently, the ways I could've explained concepts better, the frustration because a classroom of 8 kids gets loud and rowdy and oh-my-gosh-I'm-losing-my-mind. So many times it has all looked futile. But in that moment He whispered it most assuredly. It's not all in vain, love.
The week back to school has been a lot of things-- exciting, chaotic, trying, beautiful, exhausting, hopeful. Memories of the past week swirl through my mind. Excitement over the green and purple vocabulary books that are written in and thumbed through. The way she participated for all of class yesterday. How he studied so hard all week. Watching their hands shoot up to read the flashcard sight words, and the laughter than ensues. The look on his face when he sounded out that sentence all. by. himself. Hearing his voice volunteer to sweep the classroom. And perhaps the sweetest moment: when Bello got 100 on today's spelling test. I looked him eye-to-eye this morning, the grin on his face growing wide when he saw his paper. Recalling the lines written and the way he tried so hard in class and how he studied all week, the words are a choked whisper because we have seen it, all his hard work paid off. "I am so proud of you." Words simply fail at trying to capture the sweetness of the moment.
I was reminded of this on Wednesday morning… as those five little notebooks and five little heads out on the basketball court spoke His truth into my bones without saying a word at all. This week has all been only because of His grace. And I stand, ever grateful.
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