Quietly, I snuck into the classroom. The roomful of fifth graders sat attentively at their desks, listening to their teacher. Holding the book in my hands, I surveyed the room. Where was he?
Then I spotted him. Blue shirt. Close cropped hair. Yep, that’s him. He had just left my classroom, and now here he sat for the final period of the school day. At least he’s toward the back, I thought to myself. Working my hardest to emulate the silence of a bat, I swooped toward the boy. Kneeling down, I laid the book on his desk. He looked at me. I looked at him. He looked at the book.
“You forgot this,” I whispered. He had just finished the first beautiful book, The War That Saved My life, and I had made sure I had the sequel waiting for him, The War I Finally Won. But in his haste to be on time to his last class, he’d left it on my table.
“Thank you,” he whispered back. A small smile may have formed on this face.
“I wanted you to have it,” I said. Those words could not have felt more true, as we all would head home from school, uncertain when we would be able to return. Closed indefinitely. Coronavirus now firmly in control.
Silently, I exited the room, thinking about the title of the book I just handed my student. As we all do what we can to combat the spread of this virus, I look forward to the day we can feel that title resonate.