We are at work.
Tiny hands, smooth and nimble, grasp pencils. Some hold with greater confidence and care than others. The hands transmit thought, idea, wealth of knowing, to the page.
We’ve done our best to set kids up for success, shared experiences, multiple modes of learning, conversations and collaborations.
Their work today is to show what they understand.
Hmmmm?
Ooohhhhhh, ok.
Scattered coughs and clearing of throats. They are focused and hard at work, huddled somewhere between transmission and receipt, uncovering and broadcasting their understanding, such as it is.
The work we do as educators is amorphous, opaque.
Is this a good measure of what they know?
Did they get it?
and the kicker
What’s our plan if they don’t?
Quiet music serenades this dance
You said, ‘hold gently what you wish to grow old with’
Like a sparrow in your hands still needs to fly
Hold gently what you wish to grow old with
Don’t close those hands’
My old hands are here, too.
They point, nudge,
encourage.
But these old hands don’t work like they used to. Time has not been kind to them, fastening buttons and holding a pencil are uncomfortable chores, the result of nerve damage over years reminding me, on the daily
you’re not a kid anymore.
But the time and space around me, in this moment, is filled with tiny, powerful hands. And they remind me of a time when I, too, grasped a pencil with confidence and care.
Get Up Eight 
Hands are incredibly important, and I love how you show how they once worked compared to now. I have incredibly large hands. I don’t dislike my hands, but it’s just kind of a weird thing. I probably should have been a football player. I feel the joy of watching young children write and create in your post today. Lovely image!
LikeLike
On the one hand, this is a beautiful reflection as you- I imagine- sit ‘proctoring’ an evaluation. On the other hand, you take it much further, with your switch over to the idea of ‘holding gently to what you wish to grow old with’ (a line that will stick with me) and the image of holding the sparrow so that it can be released to fly is so lovely. Then, you take your gaze to your own hands and the piece gains even further depth with the contrast, the way your hands still work to guide, and the hope in those young hands gripping their pencils with varying grips.
But my favorite line is ‘They are focused and hard at work, huddled somewhere between transmission and receipt…’
LikeLike