Slice of Life is sponsored every Tuesday by Two Writing Teachers
Opening my
eyes Monday morning I squinted at the clock, 5:30 am. Sighing, I swung my legs
out of bed, slid on my slippers, and moved down the stairs. Once again I
clicked on Bally’s leash, coaxed her to hop down the stairs, and out the door
we went. Cold wind hit my lungs, a quiet calm outside. Bally came back up to
me, nudged my leg, and we returned to the warmth of the kitchen.
With bleary eyes I moved to the kitchen counter, pulled down the recipe book, and got to work. I mentally thought back to the last time I had made Monkey Bread, had it been over a year already? My hands worked quickly as I did the math in my head – about twenty kids should be able to be fed with a recipe and a half. Grab some fruit out of the fridge and I should be all set. Glancing at the clock I realized I needed to speed up, it was almost 6:30 already. Finally, I slid the trays into the oven. I quickly blended myself a shake, gave Bally her food, and moved back upstairs.
Shaking Luke and Liam awake, I reminded them we needed to head to school early. Groans and, “Just five more minutes, mom…” came from both rooms. I smiled, moved on, and got ready myself in record time.
Heading
back down the stairs for the second time - or third - of the morning, I
finished my shake as I walked into the kitchen. I turned to grab the Monkey
Bread out of the oven and let it cool while I contemplated what on earth I
could possibly transport it in to school. Luke and Liam entered the kitchen at
about this time, ready to devour the bread themselves while I held them back,
reminding them of the kids waiting at school.
Finally we were out the door, scarves trailing, final waves to Bally watching from the window. I placed the containers in the back of the car, mentally cursing the piles of books lying in the back that I keep forgetting to bring into my classroom. I shook my head, slammed the gate, jumped in and we were off.
Finally we were out the door, scarves trailing, final waves to Bally watching from the window. I placed the containers in the back of the car, mentally cursing the piles of books lying in the back that I keep forgetting to bring into my classroom. I shook my head, slammed the gate, jumped in and we were off.
Our quick
ride to school was peppered with conversation about Christmas, our holiday
break, and plans after school. Pulling in the parking lot, Liam hopped out to
rush to make his bus while Luke and I grabbed the food and headed up to the
classroom.
After
hauling the meal up forty plus stairs, I wondered again why I loved my room on
the top floor. I looked up at the collection of students gathered outside my
door already. They grabbed bags, containers, and my backpack from me as we
moved into the room. Squeals of delight reached my ears as they opened the warm
containers with the smell of cinnamon and caramel wafting out. Conversations of
Friday’s school day flowed as they caught me up to speed on what I had missed.
Slowly the
entire Mock Newbery group filed in, grabbed some food, and found a seat. I made
my way to my own seat in the front, sat down, and sighed. I counted heads to
see if all of the students had arrived and smiled as I watched groups form,
breakfast consumed, books discussed, and faces turn towards me. Glancing up I saw
that it was 7:30 am. I took a deep breath, let it out, and smiled. Now the day
could really begin.