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That was beautifully said and fairly presented. It delighted my sense of smell like a breath of springtime. I'm glad this writer lives in The Dalles, gladder now that I live nearby, and maybe it's just as well that Mr. DeFauw lives in Corbett.
But I'm delighted to encounter his name. Would make a good new word in English; it's almost an exclamation, or an explanation. Lucky thing my Welsh ancestors changed the spelling of our family from Pteighlyrrh to Taylor. Write on, Ms. Seeley!
That's what teachers do: They notice the little things, especially with the little ones who are pre-articulate and painfully shy. What a beautiful story. My teachers connected me not only with the dead past but more importantly with the living fact of my own life. Teaching is a subtly hard profession, a huge responsibility, and the one time I had the audacity to voice my opinion to my father that teachers didn't need a union if that profession was a calling, he said that many were called but few chosen, even fewer could hack the work, and that it was so hard it deserved to pay more than starvation wages in a country this wealthy. He's gone, but now I get teachers' unions, and even defend them. (Not school boards so much.) Teachers don't need defending; they need community and parental support.
Students today don't just sit in their chairs ...
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