hanging on his every step

a bunch of us were crowded inside one of those big outdoor tents waiting for the teacher to arrive. Mr. Buttino was one of the most intimidating and respected teachers every fourth and fifth grader at LDV ever had the honour of coming across. and in my family, he came with a reputation. as did we. he finally arrived amidst much anticipation wearing a burgundy velvet sports jacket. he was still very bald but had new yellowed strands of hair flowing from behind. i held my breath as he slowly made his way to the tent and wondered how long before he would either recognize me or not. in my head I must have been a very special student to him - something that transcended the fact that he had dealt with several of my trouble-maker cousins and uncle Mario way before me. he had brought his younger daughter along to help him conduct some science experiments. i`m pretty sure i had been expecting more of a mathematics lesson. as he got closer one student jokingly shouted that we should all do some Ice. he smiled and said nothing, but his eyes were gleaming and scanning the crowd. it felt like he was hovering over us now, larger than life, and I sense him sizing me up out of the furthest and most remote corner of his eye. still, it felt really nice to be in his presence again - old as he was - despite the fact that he never actually said a word.