Mrs. Stone

Rain walked into the classroom with an overzealous expression in his step. The boy was overly excited for his first day in the warzone that was kindergarten. He looked upon the small room that he would be spending 6 hours a day in for the rest of the year. The children in the room were already bouncing around as if they had infinite stores of energy to draw on. This was taking a toll on the adult in the room.

The mature woman in the corner of the room sitting at a desk held an incredulous expression on her face as she looked out over the mass of children tangled up with each other. She sighed and rose from her desk. Then she did her best to gather the children in the center of the room. To little avail.

Once every child was more or less seated, not without tremendous effort of course. She wrote a name on the whiteboard in large letters with her black marker. The letters read Mrs. Smith. Not that any of the children could read them of course. Interestingly though, one child looked at her, then at the board, then back at her. A spark of recognition appeared in the young boy's eyes. They were as green as the greenest of meadows, with a hint of yellow as if his eyes were a window to a beautiful cornfield at sunset.

Mrs. Smith thought to herself, 'This one is special, huh.' 

The child she was staring at was none other than young Rain.