After the long weekend, the students returned to Fields Memorial School on Monday. By the afternoon, we were having a hard time staying awake to Mr. Pavey’s lecture.

We were eighth graders; bold and crass at times, foolishly believing we ruled the school. It was May 1967, and little did we know, in a few short weeks, we would be going to the Norwich Free Academy and demoted to a derogatory term called “Greasy.”

We never realized what a gift it was to attend eight years in the same school with teachers and students who became a family. This included the lunch ladies, our sweet secretary Mrs. Booth, and the endless teachers who helped us grow into the kind of people we should be. Unfortunately, we took it all for granted.

However, today would be the day of reckoning.

It all began when Jodi came bounding into Mr. Pavey’s classroom, yelling as if everyone were deaf.

“Hey, did everyone hear what Gregory did at recess? He jumped inside the dumpster and it took three teachers to pull him out!”

The children roared with laughter.

Mr. Pavey immediately stood to address the impertinent student.

“Jodi, please gather your belongings and march straight to the principal’s office. We shall continue this conversation later this afternoon accompanied by your parents.”

After Jodi left, Mr. Pavey sat on his rocking chair surrounded by rows of books. It was the time of day when the sunlight filtered through the dusty blinds and a unique stillness filled the room. He removed a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Even though the afternoon had almost passed, the birds continued to sing. They were accompanied by the sound of buzzing black and yellow bumblebees that collected nectar from the daffodils below the window. Unlike people who often take a day for granted, God’s creatures know this day will never come again.

There may be other days, but never this day, never this hour. Never will the world turn upon its axis in the same way as this moment in time.

Mr. Pavey straightened his wire glasses and carefully tucked his watch and chain neatly inside his vest pocket. His eyes searched longingly towards somewhere beyond this world. No longer was his voice laced with anger, but peaceful resolve, as he prepared to give the final lesson.

“Soon all of you will be leaving Fields Memorial School. Lucky children to be graduating with an education, a precious gift indeed. Out of every lesson I have ever taught, I want you to remember this day.”

Then, he stretched forth his arm and pointed a finger at each one of us.

“If not for the Grace of God, you, you or — YOU — could be Gregory. The only difference between him and the rest of you is the slight wave of God’s hand.”

No one said a word. Some looked at the floor. The room was still, except for a single hummingbird hovering near the window flying from flower to flower.

For a moment, the hummingbird peered inside the classroom before becoming a blur of greenish-blue before flying away. And even though we heard the buses rumbling in the parking lot, everyone remained silent. For this was the day every single one of Mr. Pavey’s arrogant, self-centered students came to realize — any one one of us could have been Gregory, if not for the slight wave of God’s hand.

Concetta Falcone-Codding is the author of The Lonely Nest. This is an edited excerpt from her book. To contact: concettafalconecodding1@gmail.com.