We stood on the stairs, waiting for the bell to ring. It was 2:59, the end of a very long day. Their excited speech echoed through the stairwell. It took all the energy I had left to keep them in line and not screaming.

I was talking to one student when I looked up a few steps. Ms. Fruity (self-proclaimed nickname of one of my third graders) turned and pressed her face against the cold white stones of the wall and sniffed. “The wall smells like fart.”