Beautiful

It might be the sixth grader who waves hesitantly in the hallway and then doubles back for a hug. Because, some things are more important than the five seconds he might be late to his next class.

It might be the eighth grader who initiates a greeting in the cafeteria, confident that I remember his fifth grade self working so hard to charm his way through life.

Or, the half way hesitant "Miss," that calls me over in PE to talk with a kid who is so much happier here than he was with his last year's teacher.

The smiles when they don't know that anyone is looking.

The spark of recognition that there is something familiar in this big, new school.

My assigned kiddo, determined to donate more and more rice.

Or, the cluster of closely cropped heads bent around an i p*d as they discuss the best move in their newest game, totally oblivious to the fact that they should be driving each other absolutely insane.

It might be sixth grade girls who forget for a moment that they are learning how to create pre-teen drama or the kids who hold doors for each other without having to be asked.

Because, we are in a series of concrete and pre-fab boxes within boxes. So many middle school feels all trapped together that whoever came up with this idea must not have spent much time with children.

But, they are first-week-of-school calm, content to be safe and well fed and given the fresh slate of a new year. Not easy, perhaps, but easier.

And, in the small things, they are beautiful.