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The Busy Burrow

Illustrated by Teynmoli Subramaniam using Canva AI


To, 

2Y, 2024–2025 with love.


 For the class who made every day an adventure—
and taught me as much as I taught you.

Go and grow, my wonders. 

(First draft written in July, 2025)

Deep in the heart of Fernwood Forest, under the rustling leaves and tall oak trees, a busy badger was putting the finishing touches on her colorful display board. Tiny starry lights twinkled softly, like little sparks in her dark, shiny eyes. She let out a happy sigh that curled through the warm underground air.

After an hour of mounting the pictures and trimming the edges, she leaned back against the warm wall, stroking her fur—a mix of deep inky grey and soft silver white, like the sky at dusk. It swished softly under her paw as she moved like the hush of leaves on a still autumn night -warm and worn with wisdom.

A rectangular pair of glasses perched on her nose—occasionally slipping to the tip - as she surveyed her glowing classroom burrow, a cosy warren brimming with books, paints and lots of lots of squashy soft cushions. The warm light from her display board bathed everything in a gentle golden hue, making the whole space feel like a secret nook carved from dreams and imagination.

One crispy autumn morning, Mrs Badger opened her sturdy wooden burrow door, painted in cheerful cerulean blue. A breath of woodland air rolled in—cool and earthy, tinged with the scent of fallen leaves and damp moss—and in tumbled a rollicking class of wild little woodland creatures!

There was Benny, the Bunny, who bounced everywhere.

Tilly, the Tortoise, who liked to take her time.

Freddy, the Fox, who asked a million questions a minute.

Zaki, the Squeaky, wrapped all in white, like a mummy, itching and scratching with his tiny paws that never seemed to stop.

And many more—hedgehogs, squirrels, ducklings and even one very shy mole.

Mrs Badger's beady eyes shimmered like the first glow of sunrise.

''Welcome to the Burrow,'' she greeted. ''Let's learn together.''

But ...Oh Dear... it wasn't easy at first. It was a bit of a muddle in a puddle.

Benny kept hopping over books.

Tilly got stuck behind her shell.

Freddy spilled paint, glue and glitter- all at once!

And Zaki, the Squeaky, with his tiny paws and big ideas, was still mark-making with crayons—swirls, squiggles and joyful blobs.

Mrs. Badger worked very hard. (If you know her well, you would understand that she was not

the kind of teacher who let things get out of her paws.)

Her mellow voice could boom like thunder, and when the class got too wild, she would stamp

her paws and growl in a firm but polite manner, “2Y!”

(Why 2Y? That is because her surname begins with a ‘Y’.)

Just like that, the room would freeze—ears up and eyes wide.

Mrs. Badger wasn’t mean. Not at all. She wasn’t strict or cross, just careful and kind—firm in

the way only a wise, weathered Badger could be.

“You don’t have to be the same; you don’t have to be perfect,” she whispered.

“You just have to be kind.”

She gently taught the ducklings the art of taking turns, their quacks echoing in cheerful harmony.

She patiently helped the hedgehogs curl their spiky paws around pencils, coaxing their

handwriting to bloom like delicate wildflowers. And with quiet encouragement, she showed the

shy mole how to find her hidden talent, guiding her step by step through the soft earth of courage

and helping her voice shine like a gentle lantern in the dark.

Autumn turned to winter and snowflakes twirled down like forest fairies.

Spring came and with it new blossoms and bright new ideas.

Bit by bit, they were finding their way.

Benny learnt to sit still (for a little while).

Tilly helped others catch up.

Freddy listened as much as he talked.

And Zaki the Squeaky?

Zaki the Squeaky was now writing his very own sentences—full of squiggly letters and brave sounding-out that made perfect sense to him (and most of the time, even to Mrs Badger), beaming from whiskers to tail.


By summer, the burrow was filled with calm chatter, clever questions and kind hearts.

One warm sunny day, as dragonflies buzzed by the window, Mrs Badger looked at her class with small, proud sigh.

'' My, how you've grown,'' she purred softly.

Soon, they would scamper off to the new adventure in the Big Oak Class.

Mrs Badger's heart felt a little heavy.

She would miss their giggles, their messes and their curious eyes that glistened with wonder at every little thing. But she also felt a flicker of quiet, luminous ecstasy—because they were ready.

The last day came, full of paw hugs, whiskery kisses, thank you cards made from bark and berries and a big burrow picnic.

Then, suddenly...

The classroom was still.

The burrow grew quiet.

Mrs Badger stood alone by the sturdy cerulean blue door, looking out at the waving green grass.

'' Off you go, my wonders. Go and grow!''

Her voice didn't thunder now.

Mrs Badger took a deep breath...

''Just like the wild forest where the wild things are,'' she smiled, "everything begins again."





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