Every moment feels like all of the energy from a frenzied week packed into one small classroom. And then all of a sudden there is a snapshot of quiet in front of me. I have found that taking those brief seconds of calm and focusing on their minute details helps me lengthen them out, take a rest, and re-establish my own calm.

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This calm must come from my voice, my face, my hands, and my touch, consistent, predictable, expected, no matter how many people are lying distracted on the ground or screaming in bursts of disappointment. It needs to come no matter how much I wish I could join them.

It's a calm that I have learned to foster and care for and a calm that these little humans that I spend my time with don't know how to find on their own yet. Imagine how terrifying life would be without the ability to stop crying...without the understanding that life moves forward into tomorrow...that mistakes in math aren't permanent marks of shame.

Such deep truths and such tiny bodies to hold them. I can barely believe such truths myself and so I stop and watch, listening as they walk through the rain hand in hand, their voices muffled by rain coats and jacket hoods.