Swinging with my eyes closed.

If you ask me how I'm doing, I'll lie. We are in the midst of finals, which in my program come in the form of 25-30 page papers that are submitted not only for a grade, but for review by a panel to approve us for recommendation for licensure. Report cards are due Monday, CSAP testing is Tuesday and Wednesday, budgets are being finalized, behavior issues are at their peak, and it is the season of annual reviews. It has become a part of my daily routine to find a quiet/private place to shed a few tears in hopes of releasing enough stress to continue on with a smile. Last night it turned into a complete melt down, but that's neither here nor there. This is just a difficult time, and I knew full well what we were stepping into this quarter-- it's just a damned good thing I'm wearing my rubber boots!

But then there are my sweet, sweet students who surprised me by reciting an acrositic poem they entitled "Miss Lee is Awesome" at our poetry reading, who run up to me thrilled to share the latest story they've written, whose eyes light up when I shoot a smile their way, who race me across the muddy field with no sympathy for the fact that I'm wearing heels, who giggle with me as we read about the BFG's frobscottle and whizpoppers, who come to me to dry their tears, who tell me I'm beautiful, and who I love so very dearly.

This afternoon, my little autistic girl grabbed my hand and raced me to the swings. After reassuring me that the swing wouldn't break and that it was just squeaking because of my weight, she asked me if I've ever swung with my eyes closed. Come to think of it, no, I don't remember ever having done so. So, I closed me eyes and heard her sweet voice ask, "doesn't it feel like you are flying?" That is exactly what it felt like.

These children ground me. From the behavior issues, to the innocent little angels, their hearts are enormous and their love is contagious.

They are why I do what I do.