This morning I accompanied a choir of first and second grade students. They fidgeted and whispered. They made accusations of poking, kicking, and hand-squeezing. A few stood dazed and silent, as though they had never heard the songs before. “My throat is parched. I can’t sing any more,” one boy whined dramatically. (Yes, he really said “parched.”)

As I looked across the stage at the children, I couldn’t help but think of the young victims at Sandy Hook Elementary. Maybe they knew the same songs or watched the same cartoons. They were just as small, so very small.

After rehearsal, the music teacher apologized for her students’ behavior. “I didn’t want to yell at them today,” she admitted. I think we shared the same thought: The kids are alive and singing, and for that we are grateful.