What did we do that day? Science. We did science. Or was it math? Because there were numbers. Or was it writing? Because they had to write notes in their notebooks. Or was it art? Because they got to decide how to draw tables to hold the data that they collected and assembled in the notebooks that they all carried around the room, moving from station to station.
It was time to go. The period was over. It was almost lunchtime.
Most of the kids has stashed their notebooks into boxes that they slid under their desks or onto shelves. The science-math-writing-art class was over. I grabbed my coat and slung my laptop case over my shoulder.
I was walking out of the room when this girl walked up. She had a smile on her face, and she held her notebook on her chest under her chin and folded arms.
“I copied my notes from last time,” she said. “I copied them from here…”
She held out her notebook.
“… into here,” and she produced from nowhere a second notebook. “I copy my numbers into this notebook so I can always have them, even when I have to turn in this notebook.”
And the smile on her face was ear to ear. And her shining eyes. And her sense of satisfaction. And her burning desire to share her passion.