Slice of Early Morning Life: A Secret Garden of Sorts

Cloudy, humid morning 7:00 a.m., arriving to my classroom before classes have begun. Standing by myself in a darkened classroom: lights out, shoes off, changing socks after bicycling to work. Random students wander the hall past my classroom door left ajar. They roam listlessly revving up for the bell which will signal the day to formally begin.

At my desk, looking between the blinds and out the window into the school courtyard, I scan the courtyard: four buildings joined to conceal a secret garden of sorts.

In the cloudy sunrise shadow of an old greenhouse addition, a small artificial pond loosely constructed of flat stone (clearly cut from larger blocks but altered to appear like shale) and a plastic liner, visible along the edges where the surface of the water meets the air. The smudged glass windows rife with condensation, corrugated fiberglass roof, rusty nail shadows run down the sheet metal walls are reflected in the waters as two mallards, green heads set off by a white neck ring, float gently in small circles around the air jet vigorously blows bubbles in the center of the oval pond.

Momentarily inspired, I reach for a pen to jot intent to jot down some thoughts. Returning moments later the opportunity is lost… I catch a glimpse of two grey ducks butts lifting from the pond, over the dewy grass and eventually beyond the school building walls to freedom…

The sound of the morning tone pierces the air and the door pushed open further signals the start of the day, for my students and I in our own secret garden of sorts.

(Written following my bike ride into work this morning.)