John’s breathing stayed the same, which didn’t mean a thing. This morning, I’d woken up to an empty bed and a note on the kitchen counter saying that he was driving in to Boston for a work meeting. Before he left, he’d fed all the animals and checked it off on his stupid Excel spreadsheet.

“Sarah,” Polly said, bringing me back to circle time.

“Right,” I said. “High five.” Polly and I gave each other a gentle high five like we’d rehearsed.

“High five,” the kids said as they imitated us like perfect preschool parrots.

“Fist bump,” I said. Polly and I kept our fist bump gentle, too, and the kids followed suit.

“Michael Jackson,” I said. Polly and I fist bumped, then moonwalked our index and middle fingers away from each other.

The kids giggled. They yelled “Michael Jackson,” whether or not they had any idea who that was, and moonwalked away from one another.

“Jellyfish,” I said. Polly and I fist bumped, then opened our hands and pulled them back and up at an angle, again and again, like we were jellyfish swimming through the ocean. The kids laughed and did the same.

“Snowman,” I said. When Polly came in to fist bump me, I brought one fist down on top of her fist and my other fist up from below, making the perfect three-fisted snowman.

“Snowman,” the kids yelled. The made snowmen over and over again, most four-fisted instead of three, laughing hilariously.

The kids began making up their own fist bumps now, spontaneously, enthusiastically. That was one of the biggest joys of teaching: to spark the students’ creativity, then sit back and watch it soar.

“Airplane,” Gulliver yelled. He and Juliette fist bumped, then stuck their arms out to the sides and rocked back and forth. I took a moment to appreciate how far Gulliver had come from hurling himself off the dismissal benches and throwing things at his mother not so long ago.

“Barbie,” Pandora yelled. She and Celine fist bumped, then flipped their hair and batted their eyelashes at each other.

From our little storage area, a cellphone rang.

“Cellphone,” Morgan yelled. She fist bumped the air, then tilted her head and held her open palm to her ear. Suddenly all the kids were imitating Morgan.

“Sorry,” Polly said. “I guess I forgot to turn off my phone.”

“Answer it,” I said. “I’ll get them started on their individual work.”

As Polly walked away, I twisted around until I was facing the center of the circle with my legs straight out in front of me. Waited for the kids to do the same. I took a deep breath in as I reached my hands up over my head. When the kids caught up, I exhaled slowly as I reached forward and touched my toes. I held the stretch to signal that we were transitioning from one activity to the next.