Consider the transformation of a seed so small it appears as a black speck on the fingertip. Observe as it follows the immutable laws of metamorphosis to become a uniquely beautiful blossom. Isn’t this precisely what we hope will occur in the lives of children in our care? Just as each seed possesses the capacity to mature into something distinctively impressive, each child will develop human characteristics capable of unfolding into bountiful human attributes.
Overcast skies hid the towering mountains on an early September afternoon. School starts tomorrow. Three second-graders sat behind the cab of our blue 1968 Dodge pickup. I drove slowly up the valley road. The undertaking? Collecting flowers for the first day of school.
The chilly air and overcast sky spoke of heavy rain on the horizon. Even now, a smattering of drops settled on the Dodge’s cracked windshield. The second-graders sat on a flat plywood platform that Kim and I used to transport bikes for our summer bike rental business. They sat facing the truck cab dangling their legs between the truck bed and the bike platform. Rather than complain about the spatters of rain smacking them or the cool September weather, they created a drama as the truck tires hissed along the wet road.
These diminutive second-graders found bungee cords (used to secure bikes to the platform) and hooked them on the truck bed directly behind the cab. Then, each child held the ends of two bungee cords and readied themselves to drive their rattling stagecoach up the road.
Glancing in the rear-view mirror, three beaming faces sprinkled with drops of rain looked back at me. They’d already begun a game. With a “GIDDY-UP,” the second-graders commanded the horses under the hood of the Dodge to accelerate. Later, as we slowed to turn onto Harlequin Bridge. All three leaned back, pulling on the reins while intoning a collective “WHOA!”
Rain-spattered hands and arms gestured appropriately with each command as the three fledgling drivers leaned forward, backward, and side to side, abandoning themselves to guide the horses and wagon to valley gardens. It was time to collect first-day flowers.
Accompanied by the truck tires’ hissing, the second-graders chattered while creating an adventure.
Reins in hand, they guided us to gardens where gracious valley residents met us with kindhearted generosity. Each garden appeared lush and magical, shining in their damp, colorful condition. The children, scissors in hand, picked their way through patches of flowers, gathering an intense spectrum of form and color. They collected orange nasturtiums, brilliant yellow sunflowers, intensely red poppies, gentle pink and white cosmos, deep purple hollyhocks, bright orange-petaled black-eyed Susans, and exquisitely formed dahlias, all to be placed in containers of water in the back of the truck. Later, we’d arrange them into fine-looking bouquets when we returned to school.
As we departed each regal garden, the three-stage drivers thanked the charitable gardeners, clambered onto their plywood seats, picked up the bungee cord reins, and “GIDDY-UPPED” the old blue Dodge into motion. On this otherwise gray day, they lost themselves to drama. The imaginary mail and money bags onboard needed to get to the express station before the looming storm that trailed us all afternoon hit with full force. Oh, yes! They giddy-upped those nags for all they were worth.
Scenes like this arise from the wellsprings of creative imaginations. As I watched the second graders in the rear-view mirror, I marveled at the contrast between the grumpy, wet weather and the buoyant stage drivers.
We drove back to school to make bouquets for the next day, the official first day of school. Placing the finished bouquets on the classroom’s round table gave the room a festive, ready-to-go feeling. Nodding to one another, we agreed: the room looked just right for school the next morning.
We completed the afternoon’s mission, stopping at the bakery. Even on this chilly gray day, we rewarded our efforts with ice cream cones. Greeting us from behind the counter, Huuti, the previous year’s eighth-grade graduate, smiled down at the group of wet, bedraggled, pumpkin-toothed stagecoach drivers.
He asked, “Have you been gathering flowers for school tomorrow?”
The children nodded shyly. With this brief communication, our task of the day came full circle.
Huuti knew precisely where the second graders spent the drizzly, overcast afternoon. He’d received a colorful bouquet as a first grader on his first day of school. A year later, he’d visited valley gardens to gather flowers for the new first graders. He’d witnessed this school tradition for eight years. Now, watching him scoop ice cream, I wondered if he understood the significance of this activity more clearly from behind the bakery counter than he ever did when standing with wet feet in glorious valley gardens. Huuti matured as he traveled through his eight years in school. The stagecoach drivers will do the same.
By choosing to become characters in a drama rather than lamenting the gloomy day, the second-graders confirmed, “We’re ready for the first day of school.”
Each school year begins with rides up and down the valley road to gather colorful flowers and design bouquets. With proper soil conditions, light, and moisture, seeds flourish, becoming beautiful blossoms. Each flower and bouquet is unique.
As each seed possesses remarkable potential, every student possesses positive characteristics. Nurtured properly, a child can blossom into a magnificent human being.
In short, they grow up to be…themselves.
The three stagecoach drivers, Chelsea Courtney, Chris Karapostoles, and Mugs Scherer, who giddy-upped the blue Dodge to valley gardens on that drizzly September afternoon, graduated together seven years later. Each student, far removed from their second-grade persona, received a bouquet on the first day of their eighth-grade year. When they graduated nine months later, beautiful bouquets decorated the school, where the community gathered to honor their development from childhood to blossoming adolescence.
