Puzzle

As a teacher I nurture children as their personality unfolds.
Within this environment I encourage imagination within certain controls.
Today one girl catches my attention, she's assembling a puzzle alone.
She puts it together upside down so the picture isn't shown.

She's come a long way since yesterday, now she's only missing one more bit.
But the last piece she holds, confused, because it doesn't seem to fit.
She turns the piece and reverses it, perplexed that it won't go into place.
Frustrated she says to herself, "This piece goes in this space."

She takes a breath and looks around at the kids all at play.
She furrows her brow, crosses her arms and looks at the puzzle in dismay.
She sticks out her tongue and this time she tries to force the puzzle piece in.
She takes a deep breath and looks around to survey the room again.

She contemplates joining the girls in the playhouse. Their play must be better than this.
She decides against it, takes a deep breath, and closes the piece tightly in her fist.
In her frustration she's damaged the piece and now it definately won't fit.
Her eyes well up, but they don't overflow. All this emotion over one bit.

Hopeful she's still putting the piece in the space, maybe it was eventually go.
She's hoping if she tries hard enough the piece and the puzzle in time will flow.
I sound the bell to alert the kids that their playtime is near and end.
She shakes her head as if to say, "No, not yet!" And continues to get the puzzle to mend.

I calmly tell her its time to go as the other kids put their toys on the rack.
Tears she's been holding stream down her face, "If I leave it might not be here when I get back."
"Someone might take apart what I put together, or someone might finish it 'cuz see..."
"I put it all together." She shows me the bit. "Everything except this one little piece!"

After she realized her fight was useless she threw the piece and went to her desk.
I carefully put the assembled puzzle away and helped the other students with their mess.
I looked at the piece and held it awhile. I couldn't see why the piece wouldn't fit in the place.
I took the piece to the little girl and whispered, "Maybe this fits somewhere else or maybe you can try that puzzle another day."

She looked at me angry, and grabbled the piece and had nothing really to say.
I put my hand on hers and said again, "Maybe another puzzle. Maybe the same one a different day."