Every afternoon they congregate outside my balcony.
Every afternoon I can hear them chanting.
“Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith!”
Every afternoon Mr. Smith stands outside his classroom and passes a tiny plastic football toward the masses. It usually hits one in the face and bounces off into the bushes. They hunt around, find the plastic ball and throw it back. Then the chanting resumes.
Although, nothing has been quite the same since one of the kids started calling him “Mr. Sniff.”