the waltz
Tony checked his phone for the twentieth time. It was finally three p.m. He scanned over the kindergartners clustered around him, most of whom were whispering amongst themselves and fidgeting nervously. After taking count to assure that they were all there, Tony crouched down and clapped twice to catch their attention.
“Alright kiddos,” he began as the children turned to face him. “I know a lot of you are nervous, but there’s no reason to be, okay? You’ve practiced hard and you’re gonna do great. No matter what happens, I’ll be a proud teacher.” Tony grinned broadly and gave a thumbs up. “Now go out there, do your best, and let’s show the first-graders who’s boss!”
At his final words, the kindergartners stumbled out into the town square. Tony snuck around the side and took a seat on a hay bale, watching intently as the music began to play and his students fumbled to grab hands. None of them were synchronized; they were all waltzing around offbeat and tripping over one another’s feet. One student fell, but he bounced right back up. Tony felt a surge of pride.
“Aren’t they amazing?” He whispered to the unfortunate soul sitting next to him (Tony had an annoying habit of talking through everything). “Look at ‘em -- look at those little fuckin’ monsters. Those are my kids. Aren’t they great?”















