Posted over a year ago, but never outdated.
The morning started off on fast-forward, as usual:
Waking before the alarm, racing to school to get a head start on 26 kindergarten students, setting up the classroom before they can tear it apart, making copies for the day, checking last-minute plans, responding to email, and gulping coffee. Lots of coffee.
That’s when he interrupted the chaos, tugged at my sleeve, and handed me a note from his mother.
Mrs. MacPherson, thank you for teaching my son to write his name.
The chaos stopped; everything stood still, for a moment.
I stood still.
Amongst the chaos, I had made a difference.