On Saturday, as I looked for a place to stand on the Back Street Sidewalk of Appomattox to watch the Railroad Parade, a little girl waved happily at me. She had come to CCA last year and is now in the fourth grade at the local public school. I sat down beside her and told her I missed her. I do, too. She was one who would sob at the beauty of a song, right in the middle of class. "I miss you too, and all the kids at school. You were the best music teacher I ever had," she said with all the seriousness of a college graduate.
I wish she'd come back. I'd like to continue being the best music teacher she ever had.
I took the first graders out to the smelly gym a few weeks ago to fly their giant airplanes. After they color to Mozart or Beethoven, we sometimes turn their drawings into airplanes. As they were coming back from the gym and came by me as I held the door, one of them said, "You smell good!" "What IS that smell?" exclaimed another. "Egyptian Goddess", I murmured. "WHAT?" "Oh, it's just some oil I buy from the health food store." I didn't want to try to explain what an Egyptian Goddess was because I don't really know. I'm going to have to change the name of this stuff. Perhaps "Beethoven's Bath Oil" or "Mozart's Marvel" will suffice.
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