A journalist observes life in the far north.
Today was the last day of preschool for Jade. The parents boxed up all of the paints, blocks, plastic dinosaurs and tiny chairs while Jade and her classmates played outside.
I’m going to miss this class. I got to know the pupils after sewing their self-portraits into a quilt and helping in the class once a month all year.
I’ll miss Lydia with her little red cowboy boots, and Everett, who asks ever so many questions, and Levi, who can probably count to 100.
Jade’s cubby was sandwiched between two of the class hunks, Landon and Jackson. If her luck with neighbors continues throughout her school years, I should have no trouble getting her out of bed for school when she is in high school.
I felt I was just getting to know Nelson and Bennett, sons of dentists and two fairly quiet boys who stuck together. I hope I see Pete again. He’s the son of a carpenter, I think, and his family lives not too far from ours.
I’m going to miss Zach with his cute squinty-eyed smile. And Aila, who had to have all of her hair cut off halfway through the year after gum got stuck in it. And Elias. And Scott. I love that glint of mischief in Scott’s eyes.
Macey is such a little firecracker. I remember how relieved I was when I met her. I had been afraid that the other girls in the class would be quiet and obedient and that Jade would consequently come across as sassy. Macey’s big personality squelched my fears.
Ani. What an old soul. And so sensible. I wonder how her world view is being shaped by growing up in a family where the dad, a preacher, rears the children while mom wins the bread.
Every one of these kids has a place on my heart. If I ever see one of their names in the police blotter, I swear I will go down to the jail myself and scold them.
Each and every one of the boys and girls in this class has such potential. Such promise. They make me feel good about the future of mankind.