I turn to write on the board and I hear it behind me.

The scampering of feet, shuffling of desks, of papers, of books.

Looking over my shoulder, nothing is amiss.

Every student in his place. Every desk in its space.

The smiles of sweetness greet me. “Yes, Dr. LeBolt?”

I shake my head in wonder. Could I have been mistaken?

I return to my writing and it begins again.

the scampering, the shuffling, but now the giggles begin.

I whirl. Gotcha!

They sit, smiling sweetly, each face at a place, hands folded, bodies erect and alert. “Yes, Dr. LeBolt?”

Am I making this up?

Gotta get more sleep. I return to my writing. There…it…is…again. I cock my head to peer over my right shoulder.

Nothing but sweet smiles. Expectant.

I draw in my breath. Turn BACK. My arm is poised to write.

Silence.

Implement touches board…(scamper)…whiiiiirrrllll!

nope…Every face. Every place. Everything perfect. I give up! 

I turn back to begin again.

I am no longer exasperated. In fact, I am smiling. Can’t stop smiling.

In my best script I form the letters on the board. Slowly. Carefully. With great love and care my hand travels, connecting letter after letter to shape the question I want to ask.

Perhaps the sliding and shuffling continues. There may even be hammering and sawing. I suppose that was a great explosion off in the distance.

I do not know. I do not turn back. I keep on.

God, is that you? I write.

Then, I keep writing. Why do I seek to catch God in the act of constructing my life?