Lunch was an outdoor, celebratory event featuring chunky peanut butter and honey sandwiches, orange wedges, popcorn, cookies, and lemonade.
Now children of various sizes sprawl across the lawn, some reading, some writing, all barefoot and soaking sunshine. These are not school lessons, but their own pleasurable projects — read-aloud novels, picture making, and story writing. A dusty-faced, shirtless 3 year old walks among them. He thrusts a fat stick high into the air and announces, “You are my servers! You will do what I say!” This earns him a laugh, a tickle, and a threat to confiscate the weapon.
I watch from the doorway, but I don’t sit among them. This is their space, their time, their day.