Added In

I was helping out in my grandson’s first-grade class.An active bunch. (If any of you have seen the movie, The Lion King, you will recognize the row of monkeys in the ‘future-king-presentation scene’. They were modeled after any first-grade class you find.)Ahem . . .The activity I was there to help with was an exercise in caring for animals. Each student chose an animal, then was given materials to build a little compound specifically suited for said animal’s needs. Food, water, sleeping arrangements, toys, entertainment.Because what animal doesn't need its big-screen TV, right?Moving on . . .As coordinator of my little group of four boys, I was entrusted with the big bag ‘o treats. The feathers, popsicle sticks, foam sheets, paper cups, string, sticks, tape, glue and scores of other building materials.It was a large bag.And everyone was having a large time.One of them asked for sticks and I dove into the mass of materials and dug out a small container of bundles of sticks. Colorful little bundles of sticks.And just like that, I was transported back fifty-five years to my grade one class.And no, it wasn't held in a cave . . .Our teacher, Miss Woronoski had laid out multi-colored sticks. Some singles. Some in bundles of five and ten.And with a combination of those singles and bundles, we were learning to count and add.I loved it.I especially loved saying the word ‘bundles’.I would manipulate little packs of sticks, laying them out in regimental order, and add them. Then re-arrange and add again.Sometimes I would concentrate so hard, I would completely miss what was going on around me . . .“Your Gramma isn’t listening to me!”“Gramma! Gramma!”Like now.Sigh.