Move over, Imelda Marcos

[Editor’s note: Miss Brave is the pseudonym for a first-year elementary school writing teacher.]

Today I asked a second grader (ESL, mind you) if I could meet with him.

“Indeed!” he replied.

I asked my ESL first graders what we call those three dots that look like periods (correct answer: ellipsis).

“Lipsticks!” they called out.

I told them I would miss Alejandro, who apparently moved to Long Island.

“The friendship is in your heart,” one of them told me.

I modeled for a small group of them how I could choose an idea for a story by thinking about places I had gone. “Let’s see, where did I go, where did I go. Oh, I know! I went — ”

Phillip cut me off. “You went to Target!” he chimed in excitedly. I stared at him in amazement; I had — indeed! — gone to Target. Phillip is so totally my first grade soulmate.

I regrouped and continued with my story about how I found the perfect new shoes (which I happened to be wearing) at Target. And just as I was thinking that a story about shoes probably wasn’t the best example to be sharing with a group of 7-year-old boys, Charlie studied my feet, gazed up at me sincerely and said — I kid you not — “Those are lovely shoes!”

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