Opening Windows - a little GM

I'm teaching at the moment in a school that is new to me. Today was my first day with them. They were a little wary of having a different teacher at first. Names are important - I try to fix twenty-five names in my head in five minutes with that helpful little trick of word association. Not that it's always needed. Some names fit faces; some names could not belong to other faces:

Opening Windows

Charlotte -
the warmth of her name burning in the light in her eyes.
Fiery hair. Freckles.

Summer heat;
opening windows.

She is quiet, so quiet and still;
a spirit lively, sensing, thoughtful,
behind eyes of sea-blue.
Opening windows, we talk between bustle,
writing and drawing.

Red hair soft and burning,
reading verse in role-play,
she laughs,
pink wet tongue playing with rhyme,
lingering over lines.
Her face now fixed in memory,
a snap of time, imprinted.

Delicate tapered fingers tap out beats on a tambourine.

Playing with her,
holding up the character she has crayoned onto card,
making it speak.
Daft and comic things.

Charlotte shines,
cuts my heart open,
smiles and breathes something indefinable into me.
I stroke her back.
Tenderness and tickles,
this little one
convulsed in giggles,
darts fingers out and returns the love.

Day's end. Quietened room.
Cleared tables, closing down, switching off;
closing windows.
But one resists: rusted, old.
A wisp of air still bleeds into the room.