The three children sat at their desks, waiting.
The first was deep in his imagination. In his mind he was turning rough shapes into creatures, the way he does on a page, filling them with colour and moving them through a story.
He was a creative, artistic child, always imagining and dreaming and scribbling and drawing.
The second was running her fingers back and forward across her right knee. She could hear the notes of the piano keys as she tapped, her left foot rising and falling on an imaginary pedal.
She was a musical child, always composing and playing and singing and listening.
The third was staring intently at the corner of her desk. At the way the curved metal leg had been attached to the wooden top, the rivet fitting neatly into a small dent made just for it.
She was a practical, tactile child, always breaking and dismantling and fixing and building.
“Today”, said the teacher, passing out sheets of paper, “we will measure your progress in punctuation and grammar. I will also be testing you on last week’s spelling words”.
The children shook off their thoughts and picked up their pencils.
There was important work to be done.