Here is Good:

From week to week, you never know what you'll get from those Tuesday morning piano babies.  And when the ways of children look worthless through my adult eyes, I find webs of control in me begin to weave through webs of discouragement. 

["I rarely paused to listen to the narratives blooming everywhere in the garden of children in which I spent my days.  I saw myself as the bestower of place and belonging, of custom and curriculum, too often ignoring the delicate web being constructed by the children in their constant exchange of ideas the moment I stopped talking and they resumed playing." ~Vivian Paley]

But then, there's a morning like this, 

where every childlike vibe in my body is left singing.

[Teach me, how to sing.]