Music streaming through the speakers and fans whirling we sit around the table. It is journal time, the time that we take each day to write (or in today's case draw) out our feelings, fears, hopes and dreams. Tucked away from prying eyes and clear of red pencil proofreading marks, we spill some ink. This ink clothes what is tucked in our hearts. It gives voice the words we may be afraid to utter aloud. It dances with us across a page. This is a discipline I hope that our kids carry with them through life. That they grow to love it as much as I do, but if not love it, then at least tolerate it. Because there is freedom in unloading all that you cannot say aloud. Freedom in tucking that away in a safe place that no one uninvited may peek.
I sit back in my seat and peer around the table. Their faces a study in concentration. Markers spill all over the table and some have found their way to the floor. They draw, write, think, and smile to themselves. It is such a joy to be able to watch them, share with them, and teach them.
Well I better go jot some thoughts down myself, it is almost time for History.
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