“You go first,” I whispered. “She’s far less likely to yell at a pregnant woman. At least I think she is.”

We entered the room with our heads down, like two middle schoolers who were afraid they were going to get a detention for being late to class.

We paused. The only two empty chairs were in the front row. Wouldn’t you think teachers, of all people, would fill up the first row first? Studies have shown, again and again, that where you sit in a room can have a major effect not only on your engagement, but on how you’re perceived by the person in charge, and even on how much you learn.

But although they certainly knew better, teachers always ran for that back row.

Kate Stone stood at the front of the all-purpose room, all business. She was wearing one of the handful of batik-print tunics she’d been rotating for at least a decade, this one the color of overripe beets, over a long black skirt and Birkenstock sandals. Dangly earrings poked through her thin brown hair, which was streaked with coarser strands of gray.

Polly and I slid into seats directly under our bitch of a boss’s nostrils. We reached into our canvas teacher bags for notebooks and pens.

A flurry of birdseed peppered the area in front of our feet, black sunflower seeds coming in for a landing on the wood floor, smaller round seeds I couldn’t identify skittering to almost touch Kate Stone’s Birkenstocks.

Polly and I choked back giggles.

When our bitch of a boss crossed her arms over her chest, the sleeves of her tunic made bat wings. She cleared her throat pointedly.

“Now that we’re all finally here,” she said. “I’d like to remind you about Bayberry’s expectations for our third-year students.”

She followed the length of her nose to look directly at Polly and me. “The final year of preschool does not consist of entire afternoons spent skipping around to the tune of ‘A Tisket A Tasket.’ Bayberry students are not only expected to be ready for kindergarten, but to shine brightly when they get there.”

I wanted to jump to my feet. I wanted to tell Kate Stone to her face that we’d given our students exactly what they needed this afternoon. A day to recover from the exhaustion of Thanksgiving weekend, a day to enjoy the autumn beauty before it slipped away to winter. We’d accomplish more on the yang of those hard skills tomorrow by giving the kids the yin of the laid-back day they needed today. That we all needed today.

Sure, it was critical that the kids learned basic colors and geometric shapes. That they could write their names while holding their writing instrument with the appropriate-three finger grasp, identify upper and lower-case letters, recognize numerals, count objects, rhyme, tell stories. And more, so much more.