OK, this isn't what I planned for my first blog post to be about, but Blogger will only let you write 150 characters in response to their crazy question. (See my complete profile if you're confused.) Anyway, 150 characters is not nearly enough to explain the complexity of the whole experience of bringing a dead bird to school in the third grade. So, here's the rest of the story...
I found a dead, frozen bird when I was walking to school one time in third grade. I kept it on my desk all day (even made it stand up to say the Pledge of Allegiance) because I was certain that it wasn't dead - it was just too cold to move. But, alas, my classroom wasn't warm enough to thaw the bird. I wrapped my poor bird in my scarf to bring home at the end of the school day. I don't remember what happened to the bird (most likely my Dad pitched it in the trash) but to this day I am amazed and thankful that my third grade teacher was sensitive to my heart. She asked me why I had the bird that day, and after I explained I was thawing the bird so she could fly again, my teacher, Mrs. Brown, never said one more word about that crazy dead bird on my desk. I know there are issues with germs and all that, but Mrs. Brown understood that childhood innocence, faith, hope and curiosity were much more important than adult concerns that day. I hope & pray that I can be that kind of adult.Labels: friends, kids, life of a mom, tragedy |
