I just could not delete it

Under the window in my bedroom was a row of turned over toy boxes. Each turned over box had a stack of broken crayons and reused paper for all of the studious teddy bears hunched over each of the desks. When I was younger I could instruct my fuzzy student’s for hours; I did not always want to be a teacher. Instead I wanted to learn forever, in those hours I looked through the pages of my dad’s gold edged encyclopedias. When I found a picture I liked I showed it to my class of button eyed pupils.
I have always had a genuine love for working with lots of people. By the time I was eight I had five nieces and nephews. When they came over to visit I felt as girly as little Bo Peep, because they followed me every were, even though they were only a few years younger than I. After eating home baked rolls and green jell-o for dinner my little flock of candy-eyed children and I would dress in old Halloween costumes held together with safety pins and my brother‘s ties. I directed grand productions such as the Nutcracker and We are the Robin Sisters with only the living room coach and my mom’s pots and pans for props. Now, when my family get’s together there are approximately fifty of us (enough for a full production).
Some nights in my BYU apartment I flip through my monstrous history textbooks wondering if I learned anything that prepared me for college from the mold covered wall of my high school. In these twilight hours I think back on the poster covered walls of the preschools I internship at more than my unread biology book, or coverless edition of Tom Sawyer.