Hugging While We Walk
Written 6/18/22
It's been a while since I've updated you on how school was going. Monday is actually my last day and after that I'm a free man, no longer encumbered by five hundred little kiddies. It's sad. It's nostalgic already. I had one of the best experiences of my life. I have many fun stories to tell — and I'm not sure which I've told already.
As I think of them, they end on a sad note because, a week ago, I tried to get my hands on a yearbook. I wanted to have a copy of the kids' faces to remember them by as these two months will quickly be in the rearview. I asked the yearbook person if they had any extras, and they did. I didn't have the money so one was put aside for me. But when I went back two days later, they had been sold. I asked on a Wednesday evening and, by Monday morning, they were gone.
Suffice to say, I was crushed. I really, really looked forward to having that yearbook as a capstone and an easy way that I could forever be connected to this experience and reflect on it easily. Without it, I'm a bit lost. I feel pressured to write my memories down now so I can remember the feelings while they're fresh. I wish I could have bought it that day, I really do…
Who knows. Miracles happen. If anyone has a copy or knows anyone who goes REDACTED school in REDACTED township, please reach out to me. It would be a really wonderful gift and I'd be happy to photocopy it.
That said, let's get onto why I wrote this in the first place. My experience was joyous, memorable, silly, fun, and a million other adjectives. Hanging out with kids has been a great respite from the real world. As I've stated, my job was to hang out for four hours a day, either in lunch or recess. I basically was paid to play with them. As a cafeteria monitor, I had no real teaching duties per se though I had many meaningful conversations with them and opportunities to influence.
I spent my days out in the sun, playing pickup basketball, helping kids across the monkey bars, and in the cafeteria opening up chocolate milks and unscrewing tight-lidded canteens. My kids were kindergarten to second grade, from the ages of four to eight. There were no older kids. There was no drama. Young kids, I have learned, are very simple and pure. They're little explorers with personality. They don't have hang ups or any of the adult anxieties that we do.
I've reflected a lot on the problems of the world over the past few years and have often said, "Adults act like kids," but that's not true. Kids are far purer. Adults act like adults and our dysfunctions deserve their own labels and comparing them lightly to children is far from the truth. Kids do what comes natural and try to figure out the world as best they can. The very few kids who were "bad" and caused problems chronically, I'm sure have home lives and come from situations that you wouldn't ask for. I'll write more on that another time.
Out of the 500 kids, probably a good 25 to 50 of them, I became close friends with. On Friday, I was hugged by a million. I said, "Goodbye." I told them I wouldn't be working again next year. They looked at me and asked, "Why not? Why are you leaving? Why is everyone leaving? Miss So and So and Mr. So and So are leaving too." Apparently a bunch of teachers are leaving.
Yesterday, one of my favorite kids, Gabe, a kid I met on my first day, hugged me and kept hugging me. He hugged me in a kid-like way — he nuzzled his head in my stomach, grabbed my arm to put it around him, and got comfortable. The lunch bell rang and people lined up. Many kids hugged us and we did a lot of group hugs. But as the formation ebbed and flowed, Gabe stayed there and said, "I want to hug you and walk." And we did. We hugged and walked together from one end of the cafeteria to the other and then down the hallway until he finally caught up with his class and waved goodbye.
I will see him Monday but the kids are aware. They're so aware and present. I'm gonna miss them. I'm going to miss them so much. They don't know how much of a relief it is to be reconnected with their goodness.