For weeks, my friend and I had planned to go to Warsaw for the free Sunday afternoon outdoor Chopin concert. It rained buckets the first time we planned to go, but yesterday was the day. We went by train and bus and got to the park in good time and found good seating and enjoyed the balmy air. I was aware that I was sitting near a rubbish bin but didn't think anything of it.

Just as the MC was giving his spiel, a little old lady came begging for a place to sit on our bench. We were already 4 on the bench, and the ladies beside me said there wasn't room. "But I'm 87 years old and there's no other place to sit!"

And one of the sitting ladies retorted: "Well I'm 84, and I came early."

I felt cruel to refuse, so I scooted over to the end--closer to the bin--so she could sit between me and my friend. She thanked us soundly, and kept talking and talking. Her breath smelled of onion, and I was sandwiched between her prattle and the bin, which of course didn't smell good, and then someone else stood in front of us, blocking my view of the reflecting pool and pianist.

The concert that I had dreamed of didn't happen. Somehow I was able to let it go, without having it ruin the day. Actually, I was able to smile wryly at the odd place I found myself in--bad smells, chatter that cancelled the sound of the music, fellow concert goers who limited my view to their backs and bags. I looked up and smiled at the blue sky and clouds, and was glad it wasn't raining.

There is no plot to this story. I'm just saying. I haven't yet been able to find that sweet place where great hope doesn't morph into demand. Where beautiful desire doesn't grow into lust.

There has to be some way of wanting more without demanding it and being devastated when it doesn't happen. I'm not interested in living without desire. I think for now I'll try looking up at the sky when I'm disappointed in things, because that view is rarely blocked, and it really is an amazing thing to watch.

This link grabbed my eye, and made me happy just to look at it. Then when a bulletin board needed to be changed, I applied the inspiration to my world.

I painted sheets of paper. I don't like to think of how long it's been since I played with paints and brushes. It was beyond fun. It was a kind of therapy or meditation, mixed with smiles and fun. I love color, and I loved creating new colors and shades with the yellow, bright blue and bright pink I had.

Then I found several butterfly stencils. On the back of the painted paper, I traced half of a stencil on the fold, and cut out the butterfly on the gentle fold. Unfolded, presto! A bright, randomly-colored butterfly that looked ready to flutter away.

Can you have too many butterflies in a mural? I thought not, but actually ended up taking a few off because it was TOO bright. I put them randomly all over a black background and a yellow boarder, with a couple on the very edge, ready to flutter onto the wall.

In the center, I had a sheet of paper printed with "If there were no changes, there would be no butterflies" in big bubbly letters. And that was it. Super easy and fast and so happy.  Nobody told me bulletin boards would be this fun.

Maybe the best thing about being an ESL teacher is the way I get to share my pet stories with my students. Sometimes we take turns reading by paragraphs or pages. Recently I ask for them to read the whole thing to me, to save my voice.

My first ESL students were charmed with Charlotte's Web and The Chronicles of Narnia. I had a ton of fun seeing the intrigue in their eyes as we kept reading.

The last while, I've been getting a lot of mileage out of "Something From Nothing" by Phoebe Gilman. Thanks, Zonya, for introducing me to the lovely folk tale!

Also, my quirky side loves "A Friend For Dragon" by Dav Pilkey and I like to read it to any friend who will humor me. Last week I had several of my low intermediate students read it to me, and was gratified when they smiled or giggled or shook their heads at all the appropriate places. (Confession: in the beginning, I nearly cried when I first read how Dragon had to bury his new friend.)

Today I read Erma Bombeck's "When God Created Mothers" with an advanced student. She's a mother herself, and could relate. She said it's right--she needs six hands too. I loved when she laughed at the line, "Can she think?" She said that was her favourite part.

Stories introduce new vocabulary in a fun, engaging way. They help students see words used in context and see ideas develop. I'm most happy that something I love so much is useful in my job. It makes me feel more than ever that I can play while I work.

Which makes me very happy.