It snowed in Georgia this morning, the first snow this year. I was tutoring a fifth grader still in his pajamas when the snow started. The dining room blinds were drawn, so we didn’t know. The student finished his lesson, stood, stretched, and walked to the door.
By Nicholas Powers, 6
“It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” he screamed, literally jumping. “Miss Kathy, it’s snowing! My shoes. My coat. I gotta get outside. Everybody! It’s snowing!”
The family came running. Everyone was shouting about the snow. None fell last year near where I live, and maybe just a few flurries spit from the sky the year before. The forecast was for flurries in the morning and melting of anything that stuck in the afternoon. But already more than an inch had fallen. Serrendipidy!
The boy’s older sister looked longingly outside and then sat down next to me for her lesson. “I remember when it snowed,” she mused, gazing out the window. “Maybe I was three.” We sputtered, trying to get the lesson going, but she was distracted, glancing through the blinds, now open, to the cluster of kids gathering outside, scraping the car for wet snow to pack into snowballs. For 15 minutes we struggled, but the shouts of the kids captivated her. We ended the lesson. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Miss Kathy,” she said, bolting.
Guess what we’ll be writing about next week?
English Writing Teacher 