The Teacher Managed Not to Cry

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I rocked lightly in the teacher’s rocking chair, reading to my all-day kindergarten class, watching the twenty faces sitting cross-legged out on the rug. Subbing kindergarten can be crazy, but I love that age. I tie shoes and wipe faces between teaching letters, numbers and technology. They need help with the volume on their earphones, although they are pretty good at using the QR code to open their books.

We were reading a story about a llama that followed his girl to school. Somehow, we branched out to talk about students’ cats, hamsters, bunnies, dogs and puppies and I accidentally walked into the minefield of an unfamiliar classroom. While discussing my dog and how she would joyfully follow me to school every day if the school allowed me to bring her along, I discovered that three students’ families had dogs that had passed away.

A little boy in front with tousled brown hair and a Chicago Cubs t-shirt, who had lost a dog while not much more than a toddler, brought me near tears when he said, “I bet after the dogs die, they follow their boy to school every day.”

I just said, “I bet they do. I bet they do.”

Then I moved on fast before the tears started slipping out.