The fourth grade went up to the Gold Country for three days, culminating their study of the Gold Rush. Here at home Lola celebrated "National No Iris Day" each day, but eventually the time came to go meet Iris.
As I stood in the parking lot by the side of the massive rented tour bus, Iris's favorite teacher popped off the bus first. He looked like he'd aged ten years. "You look so tired," I said, and he gave me a mournful look. "I have a graduate school presentation tonight, too," he said sadly.
Fourth graders streamed off the bus, all screaming, "Mom!" or "Daddy!" and rushing to their waiting parent, throwing their arms around them vigorously. It was all so touching. One girl's little sister pushed her way right up to the bus steps (Lola had chosen to sulk in the car), and her big sister folded her up in her arms and kissed her softly on the top of her head. They stood there, hugging tightly with their eyes closed, for a long time, while the other girls pushed and mobbed around them. It was like something from a story book.
Eventually Iris emerged, one of the last girls off the bus. She walked past me without acknowledging me in any way, swinging her hair about and shouting, "Bye, guys! Bye!" to her classmates. Turning back to me she said brusquely, "I need to get my stuff."
2 comments:
awww... it's just like the waltons! or mildred pierce. let's just stick with the waltons.
Oh yikes. Ain't that just parenting for ya??? One tender moment, followed by a thousand punches in the gut. Right now mine are literal, because the girls horse around and think I'm impervious to pain. I'm waiting for the emotional ones...*sigh*
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