Last week Alvaro’s beautifully painted pot was stolen. Nothing else was touched–just his pot, which happened to have the largest sprouts. I could tell he was disappointed, but he took the news graciously. Why is it that things like that happen to the sweetest kids? It’s really not fair.

Yesterday morning we had a health campaign in Zone M, so a truck rolled up outside the house at 4:45 a.m. to transport the Light & Leadership tent from our house to Zone M. Sadly they forgot to re-lock the gate when they finished. All the volunteers headed out to the campaign later in the morning, and by the time I arrived back to the house and noticed that the gate was unlocked, the seeds in the water and in the plastic bottle “soil pots” were gone. I couldn’t believe it.

This morning in class I had to tell my students what had happened. First Alvaro’s pot, now their germinating seeds. They were disappointed, obviously, and had lots of theories about how and when the crime had been committed. Lucia, Alvaro’s sympathetic sister, suggested that we add an alarm to the gate in addition to the lock. Her concern was endearing.

After the drama died down, the kids made little booklets about four things a plant needs to survive: light, water, air, and nutrients. They used all sorts of craft materials to jazz up their pictures: bright yellow beads to give the sun some bling, blue tissue paper for water, green felt for leaves, real dirt for soil, etc. When they were done, they moved on to a kit that I happened to find in the basement “library,” where all our craft supplies are stored. The kit consisted of a box filled with foamy stickers in different shapes, colors, and sizes that you could use to create butterflies, dragonflies, ladybugs, bees, and other insects. There were two boxes, but since the three rambunctious siblings were missing today, one box was enough for the class.

Paola, one of the brightest and most creative students in the class, asked if I would leave out the second box so the class could look at the examples on the back of the box. No problem…at least not until the box disappeared at the end of class. Seeing as though Paola was the only student with a backpack and the only person who had left the class before I noticed the box was missing, she’s my prime suspect. I’m really hoping she didn’t take it, but I don’t know how else to explain what happened.

Oh, Paola. I’m crossing my fingers that you’re innocent and that somehow the craft kit grew legs and walked away on its own. I know you know better than to steal things. Besides, weren’t you just reading Dora the Explorer the other day? “Swiper, no swiping!”

I’m going to have to ask her about it the next time I see her.