last lessons of the year

I'm in my KinderKeyboard class, and my angelic-faced 1st graders are dutifully playing a song called "Dreaming". Each child must think up something he or she dreams about to finish the song.

Sweet, blond little Katie sings, "I like to dream about prin -cessessess"

Restless, dark-haired Christian sings, "I like to dream about fooooot - ball"

Awkward Preston gets a glint in his big brown eyes. He pauses to consider before singing in a pure, boy-soprano voice: "I like to dream about cockroaches".

His smile as his teacher can't help but laugh repairs something inside me that I didn't even realize was still broken.