My Cardboard Balcony

The Dirigible by Belinda Roddie The dirigible soared across the sky, and onlookers from every window gasped and stared in awe at the blimp that could fly. Its pilot, dark and curly-haired, had grasped the controls triumphantly in her fists, proudly steering the massive zeppelin over the buildings, through patches of mist, and into a reddening horizon. Below, a boy and girl had dripping cones of ice cream melting in their hands, but they did not notice. Their minds were truly blown by the sight of the airship, bold and gray, sailing over the small town where a thirst for adventure was beginning to burst.

It was on a sunny day that one of my students arrived at my classroom about fifteen minutes after school was over. I didn't know what to expect at first; after all, she didn't talk much in class, and anything she did contribute was simple and curt. She seemed to have no issues with the curriculum, or the schoolwork. She was a straight A student. Clear cut, almost silent. "Miss Evans," I greeted her, setting down my pen. "What brings you here?" She was holding her book out, outstretched, like it was about to burn her, and replied, "I can't do my project on this."