Today as I sat on the ground next to our snack cupboard, my heart hurt as I watched my sweet "I" cry, using his broken words and sign language to ask me for more candy. "First art, then candy" I repeat to him, though the desire in his eyes pierces me.
Before I realize what's happening, "N" has turned around in his (my) swivel chair, and wraps his arms around "I". Not in the gruff, frustrated way that I expected, but in a sweet, tender way... "Oh, come here!" he says. I look up at the two boys, ages 7 and 9, not yet realizing how sweet this moment would be. With genuine concern in his eyes, "N" aims to settle "I"... "You need to calm down... Take deep breaths!" With that, "N" tries to get him to breathe... Inhaling and exhaling himself, though "I" seems to take no notice.
I was brought to tears instantly... This boy has been fighting us, struggling to make the right choices, refusing to cooperate... Yet his heart is so gentle.
Today, my classroom was (relatively) quiet. That NEVER happens... and you would need to witness a typical day with my (usually... sometimes... kind of) sweet kiddos to treasure the quiet as much as we did. I am humbled by the way my kids served each other today... Sometimes it was with a desire to earn fruit snacks and other times it was so that they could get to a preferred activity sooner, but they still did it. Again, that never happens... and I am thankful. I'll leave out the part about my 6 year old saying he "hates" things or that "this is BS" (though he definitely doesn't abbreviate!) 32 times in a 15-minute work session... Today, that part's not important. There was love in my classroom... and that's the best Monday I could have asked for!
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