We could have been working on our writing curriculum. We could have been reviewing the accreditation materials. Instead we were telling stories. There were stories about our students, and there were stories about our own children. The room was filled with laughter.
That’s when I saw him. He opened the door to the classroom, and quietly entered. No one skipped a beat. Stories cascaded from one another. He took a seat. It was a rowdy scene as we joyfully celebrated the funny things kids say and do. It’s not mean. It’s part of the craft – part of loving kids. Like a group of camp counselors, we delighted in a child-free moment.
There was a brief lull. In the seconds before another story could emerge, our director spoke up. “I remember when…” He regales us with an anecdote about a friend’s daughter. And this is the catalyst for another surge of storytelling. This is what makes us a community.
“Stories are there to help us make sense of the world and our place in it, and to share it with those who, by necessity or invitation, are in our circle.”
– Stephanie Leibowitz