The absolute truth.
Sixth grade is the best. The kids are fun, inquisitive, still excited about school. Friday morning before school started, I was in my room working when three young men from my class last year burst into my room in a state! "Ms. P!, Ms. P! Come quick!!!" They had found a little bird out by the gym and were sure that it was injured, and that I could save it. My heart always sinks when situations like this come up. If a bird really is hurt, usually there is not much I can do, and I hate that the animal is hurt, and I hate that I let the kids down.
In this case, I could tell that the bird was fine. It may have flown into the glass door and was a little dazed, but there were no obvious physical injuries. We decided to move the bird away from the door to keep others from stepping on it until it could fly again. When "S" reached down to pick up the bird, it took off and attached itself to my pants leg. So there we stood; three boys and me, just staring at my leg. I started to move over to a tree and the bird took off and flew away. The boys cheered, I dusted off my pants, and life was good again.