This is the result of my first venture into script. The class I took was Memoir to Monologue
[AT RISE: GRACE, a teacher,
on a school playground in the rain. She’s holding a pink envelope.]
The last thing I want to do on a rainy Saturday
in June, is go back to the school. But that’s what teachers do, right? They
show up for their students, even when they’re tired, even when there are only 5
days left before summer break. It’s been a tough year. This rain, like tears of
exhaustion…and today, grief.
I have to be honest with you, I barely knew you, what with
quarantine, and masks, and as a movement specialist, I see 500 students a week.
It takes me several months to learn everyone’s name, but I remembered your name
right away; Lennox, such a unique name. Still, I only saw you twice a week at
best before the pandemic. Maybe that’s why it was more important than ever for
me to show up today. I feel guilty, like I neglected you, like I didn’t take
the time, when I had the time, to know you. Like maybe I could have
prevented…no, I can’t go there. There was nothing I could have done.
[GRACE fingers the pink
envelope]
This? The PTA lady gave it to me. There’s a
Painted Lady butterfly inside. I just wasn't ready, earlier today, to let her go.
Lennox, it’s a Scottish name meaning “with many elm trees.” Elm is the liberty
tree with interlocking grain used for wagon wheels, chairs, and coffins. How do
I know that? I’m a teacher, I like to learn.
[GRACE chuckles]
I Googled it. Did you know that about your name? Do you feel the liberty
of your name? I saw your liberty, your freedom, when you danced. I saw your
light, I remember your light, not just the lightness of your hair, but of your
feet when you skipped around my gym. I remember the lightness in your eyes and
on your wings when you leaped.
[GRACE sighs quietly to herself]
Yeah, seven-year-olds still have wings. It’s a cool thing. Wings…I
didn’t know that you LOVED butterflies. But now that I think about it, I saw it
when you danced, the way you would flit and float. So, it’s fitting, today,
that the PTA dedicated this butterfly garden, your garden with a release of
Painted Lady butterflies. The flowers, the lupine, hollyhock, cosmos,
sunflowers, they’re all just little starts right now, like you, in first grade,
just starting, supple green stalks of limbs and the promise of blossoms…futures…blossoms
in patches of dry dirt that nobody paid attention to before. They’ll pay
attention next fall. The rain is a good thing today, watering those tender baby
shoots, masking our tears. I forgot my raincoat, but I have my umbrella, the
big one I take out for bus-duty when all of you are standing shivering and
unprepared. Did I shelter you once with my extra-large umbrella? I don’t
remember. There were a lot of people at the dedication: your mom, of course,
and grandma, all the first grade and kindergarten teachers, oh, and girls from
your Girl Scout troop who painted stepping stones for the garden. There was a
lady who remembers you from the senior center that you used to visit. Quite the
humanitarian, huh?
[GRACE pauses as if listening]
Oh, that means you are kind and thoughtful to other humans. She said you
were a wonderful storyteller and brought many smiles to their faces. I learned
a lot about you today–– not enough, though. There's still a lot I want to learn
about you, Lennox, but for now, have a sublime summer.
[GRACE
releases the Painted Lady butterfly from the envelope]
