recently, a pen famine has struck and i've been forced to use a pencil. pencils are great if you like getting graphite stains on the pinky edge of your hand and subsequently on your stylish skirt from the limited, but pens are the preferred tool of writing in MY book.
today, right as school was beginning, there was a knock on my classroom door.
in walked the lady from the front desk with a basket decked out in easter decor. "it's from your secret pal!" she announced in a sing-song voice.
i eagerly accepted the gift and the first thing i noticed was not one, not two, not even three, but EIGHT metallic gel pens! the kind i used as a high schooler to write meaningful notes to my friends in study hall. i could barely contain myself, but i held it all together in the name of my profession.
throughout the morning, it was all i could do to keep my mind off all the enchanting butterflies and flowing cursive letters i could be creating. i even considered signing report cards with shimmering purple ink. knowing that that would be completely unprofessional, i compromised and used every single color of ink to make notes as i conferred with my students. i'm not going to lie- i also drew a sparkling pink heart on my left hand.
(that is as tan as this hand will ever be)
while getting a pack of pens might not mean much to some of you, i was catapulted back to the days when gel pens were everything and getting a note composed in that magnificent ink could change your entire mood.
