Our two daughters went to a small private school where I was the librarian. It was a great little community to grow up in, but it also meant that the girls spent more time at school than average and had to put up with staff meetings.
The day after graduation the staff was to meet for the morning. My two daughters, who had spent most of their lives at this little school, came with me and looked forward to the freedom of doing what they wanted. The children were safe on the campus, running through the gym, playing on the playground, reading books in the library, or playing on the computers. In fact, it was so safe, I could attend end of the year staff meetings without worry about them.
“Can we play in the gym?” they asked. The gym was still decorated with helium balloons and streamers from last night’s graduation.
“Of course,” I said. “Stay inside though, you can play outside later when I’m watching you. You can use the library or the computers if you wish. But don’t come running into the staff meeting every two minutes. If you have an emergency, that’s different.”
“Okay, Mom.” Off they scampered.
It was nearing lunch time and still the staff meeting was not over. I happened to be sitting facing the door and could see into the hallway where there was a little half wall. On the other side of the half wall was a stairway that led down to the first floor.
Suddenly a yellow balloon with a face drawn on it floated above the half wall. It was yanked down. Then it floated up. Yanked down. Floated up.
The pre-school teacher sitting next to me saw it too. She started giggling.
We both got up and peeked over the half wall.
There was my oldest daughter. “Well, I didn’t come running into the staff meeting,” she said. “When’s lunch?”
By that time the entire staff had come out to see. They all laughed at the ingenious message system.
“Lunch is right now,” said our headmaster.
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