Providence

The children seemed unusually attentive. Their giggling wasn't mischievous, not aiming to hurt. The day was a fine one. The teacher looked out the classroom window as he recited a passage. The children were quiet. Galen and Hippocrates were on the teacher's mind. The children went home, observing the arable land in the distance. The teacher wanted to stay until after the sun was supposed to set, but left earlier. The children ate their dinner. Their parents asked them what they had learned in class, and got an answer, a tonguein-cheek reply or silence. Night fell. The parents let the children go through their memoranda, and put them to bed, heedful of what each of them carried. The teacher stood looking at the vacant parking lot of the school. He knew that the parents did what they had to do.