What can you expect, with kids, on a morning like this, hoping for the best on a day of difficult tests?

Even the best of them lose focus, hoping for a little hocus pocus, and find the silly:

like the friends across the room playing a furtive game of rock paper scissors under tables

or the one in the corner pretending to paint flowers and feathers in air, with imaginary ink and care

or the finger drummer making silent beats from his seat on the table top drum top won’t stop

and, you know, maybe, I’m the noisiest one of us in the room, shushing them from nine ‘til noon

for #sol22