Modicums

8 a.m.  I let the class in.  17 testosterone-high 17 year old boys.
They were rowdy and annoying and my patience had run dry before they'd even sat down.  
It always pains me to open the shutters in Room 314 and see the morning begin over the hills where I should really be.  
It took just one of them to notice the light and to say in remarkably good English 'that is beautiful'.  Unaware that he could say anything in English, I wasn't sure what had impressed me the most; the light or the linguistic capabilities of the boy.
A wasp in the room, a few snowflakes, a fight in the courtyard below will reek havoc in a classroom, but a sunrise, no, that was a first.
5 came to the window, then the rest, then their mobiles to take photos.  We all stayed there for the ten minutes it lasted, probably the best ten minutes of my life as a teacher.  
The morning turned to rain,  I threatened not to teach the next class unless one of them admitted to kicking the door down, Diego cried and had to leave the room in case he beat Lola up and I still don't know how I'll get my boy back for Christmas.