edu180atl: jonathan newman 9.22.11
I yelled at my little boy the other morning for one of the various reasons ordinarily sane parents lose it and yell at their kids.
I left his room, left him crying on the floor. We’d all be departing in a few minutes and I’d have to go off and teach other people’s kids after I’d just yelled at one of my own.
I looked out our front door, and there on the steps was a strange cat, facing away from our house. She was a Siamese, milky brown, with darker brown legs, and she was so peaceful sitting there.
It was some kind of gift, I knew, so I called my little boy over to see. I held him up so he could look out the window. He fixed his eyes on it for a while before asking what it was doing there, and I said, “I don’t know, it’s just come to visit.”
My boy and I rode the spell of the cat all the way down the stairs, and out to the garage where he climbed into his seat in my wife’s car.
I popped my head through the window and smiled at him, an Atlas smile to hold up the world. I said, “Give me a kiss, because my car won’t start without it.” We kissed, and they drove off.
Then I got in my car. It started. And I left to go teach the children.
About the Author: Jonathan Newman is a tenth grade teacher at The Lovett School where he has taught English and journalism for nine years. He has a dog named Chicken.