By Stephen C. Schultz
The morning was cool, the air was thin. Dew on the grass sparkled a million flashes as the sun peaked over the snow capped mountain. April, at 5000 feet above sea level, is a beautiful time of year. The valleys are green with spring growth and the mountains retain their white-tipped majesty.
This particular morning was not only invigorating to the soul; it also ushered in the day that my 9 year old daughter was performing in the ritualistic yearly classroom school play. She had some speaking parts as well as singing parts in this youthful exercise of dramatic passion.
We drove to the school and parked in the over crowded parking lot. Parents and students, hand in hand, weaved in and out of parked vehicles in a steady flow that culminated in a bottle neck at the southeast entrance to the school. The walk down the hallway was brisk as we moved like salmon making their way up stream. As we stepped to the door of my daughter’s classroom, she stopped to show me artwork on the walls depicting butterflies, flowers, caterpillars, green grass and sunny skies! She pointed to hers with pride. It’s funny how the artwork of your child can rival that of Monet and Renoir.
We turned and entered the classroom. There were chairs set up in rows and a few parents mingling in the corner of the classroom. Her young Twenty-Something teacher made her way across the room and in a friendly gesture shook my hand. She said, “Hi Amanda, I’m so glad you made it…is this your Grandpa?”
Wow! Talk about awkward! My daughter just crinkled her brow and in a somewhat confused tone of voice said, “No, this is my dad.” The poor teacher flushed red. There was no graceful way out of this one. I chuckled and said, “It’s the grey in my hair. I get that all the time”, even though this was the first time. Her teacher apologized and quickly made her way to the door to greet another child and parent coming in the classroom.
The play was a hit! The kids did well, and even though there were no Oscar’s given out this night; each parent thought their student was the star. This was a time for parents and students to create memories. For many, this was simply another night at the school, but for one parent, it was a subtle reminder that time is a precious thing.
The morning was cool, the air was thin. Dew on the grass sparkled a million flashes as the sun peaked over the snow capped mountain. April, at 5000 feet above sea level, is a beautiful time of year. The valleys are green with spring growth and the mountains retain their white-tipped majesty.
This particular morning was not only invigorating to the soul; it also ushered in the day that my 9 year old daughter was performing in the ritualistic yearly classroom school play. She had some speaking parts as well as singing parts in this youthful exercise of dramatic passion.
We drove to the school and parked in the over crowded parking lot. Parents and students, hand in hand, weaved in and out of parked vehicles in a steady flow that culminated in a bottle neck at the southeast entrance to the school. The walk down the hallway was brisk as we moved like salmon making their way up stream. As we stepped to the door of my daughter’s classroom, she stopped to show me artwork on the walls depicting butterflies, flowers, caterpillars, green grass and sunny skies! She pointed to hers with pride. It’s funny how the artwork of your child can rival that of Monet and Renoir.
We turned and entered the classroom. There were chairs set up in rows and a few parents mingling in the corner of the classroom. Her young Twenty-Something teacher made her way across the room and in a friendly gesture shook my hand. She said, “Hi Amanda, I’m so glad you made it…is this your Grandpa?”
Wow! Talk about awkward! My daughter just crinkled her brow and in a somewhat confused tone of voice said, “No, this is my dad.” The poor teacher flushed red. There was no graceful way out of this one. I chuckled and said, “It’s the grey in my hair. I get that all the time”, even though this was the first time. Her teacher apologized and quickly made her way to the door to greet another child and parent coming in the classroom.
The play was a hit! The kids did well, and even though there were no Oscar’s given out this night; each parent thought their student was the star. This was a time for parents and students to create memories. For many, this was simply another night at the school, but for one parent, it was a subtle reminder that time is a precious thing.
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