If smiles could fly and laughter could soar, could they carry hope in their feathers, sprinkling it on those below?

If questions could build, and answers connect, could that bridge cover the span that separates?

If I believe I matter, that I make a difference, what would I say and do and be?

A teacher.

A teacher, a teacher, a teacher!

If I teach a teacher who teaches a child, who teaches their family, who teaches their community....

What could that community do?

Could they change the world?

Could they walk the bridge they built, then take off with wings of hope?

Yes.

So, the other day, one of my counselors asked me to come see what the kids in her art group were doing. I walked in the art studio and the kids were all laying on their backs, under the tables, painting.

My counselor turned to me and said, "Let me see if they remember what we talked about." She then asked the kids, "Who did we study today?" They shouted, "Michelangelo!!" And I said, "What, did he paint tables or something?" They yelled no, then one student (you gotta love her enthusiasm) says, "Wait! Wait! It was a church, I mean a chapel...wait...I got it! The SIXTEEN chapel!"

Here come the Senior's walking through the lobby in a wobbly line, headed for the gym room.

At the end of the line are two girls, hands on their hips, waddling back and forth.
I get their attention while the others keep walking, quietly chattering.

Girls, what are you?

Eyes twinkling, they look over their shoulders and whisper to me,

"We're invisible gingerbread men!"

Walking into the Junior's classroom, I hear, "Miss Lieba! Miss Lieba!" as several little girls run to me.
Two get hugs and trot away while one wants me to pick her up for a BIG hug. I reach down, scoop her up, and she says, "Guess what! I can't go outside." When I ask why not, she sighs and says, "Cause. There's just too much polish in the air."

What's in the air?

"Polish! It gets in my eyes, and my nose starts to run, and then I cough and cough and can't stop! Too much POLISH!"

I start to laugh a bit.

Polish! Of course!

Maybe the outdoors is full of polish? But not the kind that makes us feel miserable, the kind that shines us up on the inside, rubbing away the dullness we sometimes feel moving from one inside to the next.

When the sun shines through branches and makes patterns on the ground,
when flowers grow purple and red and pink and blue,
when rain falls sideways while the wind blows...

maybe it's all polish for our souls?