I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

from Mary Oliver's "The Summer Day"

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Sadly, he's right

Yesterday as I was reading the bulletin board outside Will's classroom after dropping him off, I noticed that his teacher had posted a list that compiled student responses to what I'm guessing was some sort of book or discussion on love and families. It was headed "My family loves when I . . ." and featured what each child had said to finish the statement. There were many sweet answers, like "put my toys away" or "share" or "give them hugs."

Will's answer? "Am quiet."

Do we sound like cruel parents or what?

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