Day of the Eclipse By Sharon Kane

One day, in the middle of June, there was a much-heralded solar eclipse. When I walked into school that day, a few of my piano students asked to be rescheduled because of the eclipse. "You mean you want to miss your lesson today because of the eclipse?" I asked incredulously. "Yeah, we wanna watch it. Please, please, please?" "Well, alright, I can reschedule you later in the week. Sure. No problem."

I taught the early lessons and went on a coffee break. The kitchen was curiously quiet. I noticed a lot of activity on the porch and went to check it out. An unusually large number of students were congregating on the porch and around the four-square court. An easel was set up. Some kids were passing around framed Mylar films and were looking at the sun through them. I got hold of one and had a look. It was really exciting to see the moon moving on a path in front of the sun.

At the easel were some cards with holes in them. One small boy was trying to figure out what to do with a card. I flashed thirty-odd years back to my next door neighbor's easel and telescope. I saw the image of the eclipse on the easel. It looked interesting and weird. I didn't really understand the meaning or impact of it then. I thought he was a weird enough guy to begin with, and even weirder that he was doing scientific stuff in his driveway. Science belonged in school, not in the driveway.

I showed this small boy how to use the card and tried to explain what it was he was seeing. He said, "Oh, cool," and ran away.

I wanted to see the eclipse through the film again and, after a little waiting, had a turn. The moon was closer to covering the sun. The energy level on the porch had increased as well as the number of students. I noticed kids on the dance room porch with their own sets of stuff set up for viewing.

I wanted another look, and while I was waiting this time I realized there were about fifty kids on the porch and only about five films. I was impressed at how patient people were as they waited their turn and how they kept the films moving after they had their look. No grabbing, no nasty words; just excitement and high energy.

That same little boy ran back and looked at the sun directly. Instantly a bunch of kids told him he could hurt himself if he did that and showed him how to use the film. He looked through, said "Wow," and ran away.

Some girls were waiting for a pizza delivery up at the parking lot. Their friends were screaming at the top of their lungs to come back down as soon as they could because the eclipse was going to happen soon.

Teenagers strolled onto the porch wearing tie-dyed T-shirts, strongly colored hair and various body jewelry. They wanted to know what was going on and, upon hearing, turned to look directly at the sun. Instantly people explained how they could hurt their eyes and showed them the alternative techniques for viewing. "Cool," they said, and continued strolling.

By this time the high point was close. The general color of the sky and land was darkening. It was a bit eerie. Then I noticed the shadow of lilac leaves on the porch. I had never seen anything like it. Each shadow of each leaf had a crescent shape. Hundreds of crescent shape shadows emanating from a shrub with heart shaped leaves. It was fantastic.

Now the eclipse was at its height. The energy level was at an all time high. Lots of talking, lots of viewing. Films being passed around dizzyingly. Kids running off the porch and back on the porch. I remembered for about the zillionth time how fortunate I feel to be working at the school, where students can go outside freely to experience occasional earthly events and whoop and holler if they feel so moved.

The excitement was beginning to quiet. People began dispersing, moving on to other things. The lilac leaf shadows were still crescented, but flipped in the other direction as the moon had passed the center of the sun by now. I felt so privileged to have shared this day with so many people on the porch.

As I continued through my day, the high energy stayed with me.

When I arrived to teach my first after-school piano lesson in a nearby town I asked the young girl, "What did you think about the eclipse today?" "The eclipse?" she said, "Oh, no. We weren't allowed outside today because of the eclipse. We didn't even get recess!"