I say to the group, “Tears, tears, teeeeeeeeaaaars. What are tears? Someone tell me?” Eight kids stare plainly back at me. I know this look. They don’t have a clue. I start to pretend to cry and I say, “Crying, crrrrying. Understand?” I wipe my eyes and the kids start laughing and nodding, finally understanding their new word. I think of Lilly. The girl in 3H who sits to my right. In their Cinderella workbook, the kids mark away at their sheets, answering pointless questions about what they would like to dress up as. The group is much younger, full of seven year olds, so their attention span is wavering. I constantly eye each child, making sure they’re focusing on their work instead of…