Biscuit.

One of my more colorful sprouts from last year, Sonya, is, luckily, right down the hall from me this year. I see her almost daily… she makes a point of it. A few days ago, on the way to her bus line, as I stood in my classroom door, she held up a book, like a trophy and called out to me, “Mr. A. I’m taking this Biscuit book home… I’m going to read it!”

At the end of last year, Sonya met the benchmarks, but just barely. She struggled at the beginning of first grade and then, like a flower waiting for just the right ray of sunshine to bloom, she blossomed. I know because she invited me (via her first grade teacher) to come listen to her read. It was a proud moment for both of us.

Well the morning after Sonya flashed her Biscuit book at me she appeared, as she always does like some sprite magically materializing from a puff of smoke in front of me.

“Sonya, good morning,” I whispered trying not to disturb my class’ reading and hinting to her the tone of our impending conversation.

“Hi… I stayed up all night long reading that Biscuit book,” she began. She sounded almost out of breath from her late night of reading.

“Really, all night long?” I prodded.

“Yes, almost ‘till midnight. That Biscuit book is good,” she said with a smile. She’d lost another tooth.

“I bet, those Biscuit books are cool,” I agreed.

“You should really come hear me read it,” she suggested.

“I’ll make sure I talk to your teacher about that,” I confirmed.

“OK, bye!” She exclaimed as she grabbed me for a quick hug and managed to maintain her whisper.

And just as frantically as she arrived, she was gone. I’ll be checking in with her teacher next week to set up that Biscuit date. Not all my sprouts from last year are as near my classroom this year, but I’m sure glad Sonya goes out of her way to make sure I see her flourishing. She never ceases to make my day.