Tenth Sketch

Stun Gun

Students are filing into the classroom. I am obviously not looking well. Those students who are already in the classroom when I arrive look at me differently. I usually come in with a less serious tone, I know I do, because I come in bubbly and smiling. I spill out the words of the weekend, almost losing it twice. Their faces say it all. They are glad to have less work, but cannot believe what they are hearing. I can't believe what I am saying. Two words keep popping up: crazy, surreal. I have never heard my class so quiet or attentive. Tragedy is an attention getter. I do not like lightening the work load they have because they do need to work. The students look blank, mouths actually dropped open, hands over mouths in disbelief. I can believe it less than them, but it is true. One students, after the early dismissal, gives her comfort--I know what it is like, I know because . . . . She does know, she really knows, and she is standing here before me smiling. I will make it.