It’s my daughter’s fault.
She ignited a memory this morning, a very cherished memory of our children’s elementary years.
As many of you know, we live in a small township with about 460 residents (down twenty folks since the 2000 census.) Our elementary students attend a two-room public school. The student count fluctuates over the years. Back in the 1980′s and 90′s when our kids attended the count averaged about 28. One year, for a very short time, we topped out at 41 students. These days we teach between five and fifteen girls and boys.
Our two attended Arvon Township School where their mama (me!) had the fancy title of Business Manager. That meant I did the books, paid the handful of employees and filled out countless state reports. (As many of you know, I am still in this part-time position all these years later.)
One of the highlights of the school year for our students is a magnificent Christmas program where moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, friends and neighbors all turn out to listen to little Johnny or Melinda sing, act, read or play recorders.