This morning, as always, the sunlight returned at its reliable and leisurely pace, reminding me that orderliness will always return to my classroom, even after minutes and perhaps days of seeming disarray. I sat beside the window this morning as the darkness slowly disappeared and a new day dawned, and I couldn't help but recall (as I did in yesterday’s post) some of the days in the classroom when whatever I did seemed devoid of direction or insight – days when I felt like I was following a vague trail in a wilderness rather than a well-prepared lesson plan. On those occasions, I could always pretend that I knew where I was going, that each step in the lesson was lit up clearly for me, but the truth told a different tale. My lessons then were more like lurching than leading, had more obscurity in them than correctness. However, like this morning, the darkness in those kind of dreary lessons (which continue to come along periodically) is always, after all, replaced by some kind of increasing light for all of us. If my students and I persevere and simply stay still and alert, some small insights will start to sparkle. They may not make us new people, but they will surely make us shine in different and noteworthy ways, like this brand new day on Burrows Street.