The Fall and Break
What an ordinary day it was. I had taught my first two classes and was mid way through the third. For whatever reason I walked behind my desk and tripped on the cords that I had stepped over all year. I don't remember falling. I just remember being on the floor looking at my arm, which was strangely out of place. Time can't handle accidents, so it seems to warp somehow. One of the boys came running. "Mrs. M., are you OK?" Perhaps it was the concern he expressed on behalf of the class or my own pride, but instinctively holding the now free-swinging arm, I stood up. Stoically I announced that I had broken my arm and reached for my Yeti-like cup, a perfectly natural thing to do. I told the class to carry on and left them in the excellent care of our City Year volunteer. One of the few girls in the class immediately offered to carry my bag for me. Maybe she even said, "to the nurse." I don't remember. We walked down the stairs, she carrying the bag w...