Eight to Eighty-Two

“I like your butterfly earrings,” I say to Sara, age eight, and I show her my very similar dragonfly earrings, and we discuss dragonflies and the ones she has seen, and I tell her that dragonflies are very good at eating mosquitoes. We are sitting outside at a picnic table, enjoying cupcakes and popsicles and goldfish crackers. It is the last day of our Sunday school class at my UU church. This second grade class is called Moral Tales and focuses on how to build one’s moral compass. 

I signed up to teach a year ago because I felt it was time for me to connect once again with a new generation of children, as I had eight years ago when I also taught Moral Tales. The children from that class now are strong, independent teens, who wave to me in passing, “Hi, Miss Kristin!” In two years these teens will be moving on to college. Time for a new crop of kids and parents and teachers to build new generational bridges for me. There is no neighborhood on the street where I live, only three houses, and no children. My church is my village. 

Society tends to put us into boxes by age. I am trying to stay out of boxes. 

Just before the class went outside, one of the girls Nora asked if we could sing Hollow Bamboo, a song that I had taught them several weeks before. So we stood up tall like bamboo and sang

We are hollow bamboo

Open up our hearts 

And let the light shine through

We are hollow bamboo

Open up our hearts

And let the light shine through……

Kristin Moyer

June 1, 2025