Friday, May 21 2004:
Spencer has a class reading activity. He plays the host with kind conscientiousness. He shows me a year’s worth of pictures, beautiful, full of wit and care and detail and careful selection. He lovingly serves me some food. Mrs. Thomas speaks, and feels moved by some Canadian recollection, and by its connection with today. Spence reads to me, and then starts to chat. He wonders about the flowers on the table. “Did you arrange these?” he asks the teacher. She pauses, reaches over and pulls them out. They’re plastic. The two of them have a good laugh. Here’s a person who’s taken note enough, who’s cared enough to get to know and become friends with a sensitive, substantial little boy. The thought of it moves me as well.
Spencer has a class reading activity. He plays the host with kind conscientiousness. He shows me a year’s worth of pictures, beautiful, full of wit and care and detail and careful selection. He lovingly serves me some food. Mrs. Thomas speaks, and feels moved by some Canadian recollection, and by its connection with today. Spence reads to me, and then starts to chat. He wonders about the flowers on the table. “Did you arrange these?” he asks the teacher. She pauses, reaches over and pulls them out. They’re plastic. The two of them have a good laugh. Here’s a person who’s taken note enough, who’s cared enough to get to know and become friends with a sensitive, substantial little boy. The thought of it moves me as well.