what must it be like to be a pevensie, child turned soldier turned ruler turned child again, coming back to the land that shaped you and nurtured you and watched you grow and find that you do not know it like you used to? you planted roots here, and now the land itself has changed. this was home and now you aren't even a child. you're a legend. you are mourning what it used to be, and who you used to be, but to them, in a way, you never died. to you, to your family, this is like dying all over again. the war stole their childhood and then so did the witch and then so did the kingship and then so did going home and now so did coming back. you used to live here. now you're worse than a ghost. you're history. you're a myth. you can never go home. aaaaa.
Today, one of my second graders was working on shape name recognition, and we got to this picture of a pyramid shape with a wide-ish base. When he saw it, his eyes lit up and he turned to me with a huge grin on his face, pointed at it, and said "When the teacher forgets to assign homework" before bursting out into hysterics, covering his mouth and giggling.
I don't understand what happened except this kid CLEARLY knows about the strong comedic and memeable value of mathematical shapes and emotions that I, an old millennial, cannot comprehend
I did, however, try to recreate this moment as the meme this child must have seen in his head
