Well it seems as though school has begun in my small Eskimo village. All of the children make their way up the winding road each day. I never attended the school they are walking to. In fact the school I attended is much much farther away. About a ten hour plane ride south east of here. But a darling school it was indeed. It twas merely my elementary school, one I attended from age 5 to 9. From there my family relocated to a different town, but the school that began it all still has a special place in my heart. Small in size, it's amount of love was overflowing. Such a place is magical. Where each teacher knows every child's name, as well as their brothers, sisters, mother, father, and grandmother. And the lessons are done with compassion for each child's knowledgable mind. The playground is wonderous. The lunch... well school lunches have never been a strong suit in any situation. But oh the love. For you could not even begin to fathem the hugs one is surrounded with in such a place. One could be warm without a fire on the coldest day when in the company of such wonderful people. I can only hope the children walking past my house this morning experience nearly half the joy I did at their age.
