I can't believe it is almost the end of October and this is my first blog post! I could be posting everyday about all of the things I love about October, but I have been so busy! Too busy, really. Days are moving fast than I am, I can't keep up. And all the days are melding together to where I can't remember what happened on what day. I need to slow down. And I am trying to figure out how to make some really necessary changes. Part of it is a stressful job. I work with kids with behavior issues. . . the ones that throw chairs and hit. This isn't where the stress comes from, it comes from all the things that go with working in a school and working with kids that most people don't understand. I sometimes feel very fortunate to understand these kids and to this positive light in their lives. I often feel like they need me. But sometimes I feel like it's the other way around, that I need them.
I know I need them. Which is part of the reason why I have two jobs working with kids. I need it in a way I can't really explain. Part of it is just the daily interaction and the way they make me laugh.
For example:
"Here Ms. Tara, I made this for you because I know you like scary things." B, age 8, handing me a picture he drew of a jack-o-lantern.
"Ms. Tara, why do you like scary things?" B, age 8.
"What do you mean?" me.
"Like bones and bugs and gross stuff." B.
"I don't know, I just do." me.
"Me too. Can I have your bracelet. I like bones too." B.
"Ms. Tara, why do you like death?" A, age 12, pointing to my necklace with an anatomical heart on it.
"It's not about death. That's what your heart looks like inside your body." me, he stares at me for a while with furrowed brows.
"Gross."
"I guess Ms. Tara is in La La Land." B, age 8, after trying to get my attention for a while.
"You need to clean up our mess from snack." a co-worker says to B, age 8, pointing to all the crumbs on the floor.
"No! Today Ms. Tara ate 'em!" B, age 8, who had given me his snack earlier because he was going to throw it out.
"Ms. Tara, why did you just say you want to rip your hair out?" H, age 8, after hearing me mumble under my breath to a co-worker. I was really bored with the assignment they were working on.
"Pot roast!!!" B, age 8, yells, while doing a reading assignment that has nothing to do with food.
"Why did you just say pot roast?"
"Oh, I want some pot roast." B
"I don't like school because I want to get a tattoo." Z, age 6.
"What is a mean thing that someone could say to you?" me, writing examples of put downs on the board.
"Bitch!" M, age 6, screams out.
"Uh, yes, that would be an example. I'm just gonna put a asterisk for that one." me.
"I don't like you." A, age 6, mad that I gave him a time-out.
"Why?" me.
"Because you talk like an old man." A.
"Ms. Tara, why do you dress so cool?" A, age 6.
"Would you like me to dress boring?" me.
"Yes." A.
"Sorry, can't help you there." me.
I am in math class with one of my behavior students. There is an example on the board, a drawing of a hand and of a finger asking them to tell which one is an inch. My student, B, complains that he can't see the photo so I take his dry erase board and draw the hand and finger. B looks at the picture I drew, slams his hands on the desk and shoves the dry erase board on the floor then throws his marker.
"You're just showing off!!!!" He screams. I try to calm him down, but he is so mad and says that he wishes he could draw like me and that it's not fair. Explaining that I was an art major did not help.
But it's not just that I crack up all the time while working with kids. It's so much more. When on a daily basis I am able to be that consistent, calm and patient adult that a child needs. When a kid is throwing a fit and I am able to calm him down and make him smile. When a kid who has been mad at me for days in a row starts to cry when I tell him that I like him and enjoy working with him, even if he is mad at me. When a child feels safe talking to me, when usually they don't talk to anyone. It's these moments and so many more that make my heart burst and make me cry. They make me feel so lucky.
This is why teachers, social workers, and most people that work with children, who are overworked, stressed, underpaid and under-appreciated continue to do what they do.
One of my behavior kids, H, was upset because one of his rewards was a high five. He pouted and slumped in his chair. I tried to get him to give me a high five, I acted super excited and jumped up and down. I'm big on high fives so this wasn't hard to do. But he wasn't having anything to do with it. I gave up. A few hours later I stood chatting with my co-workers after we had gotten all of our kids on the bus. My co-worker tells me that as she was getting H on the bus he asked where I was because he wanted to give me a high five. I looked around and noticed his bus hadn't left yet. In my cowboy boots and dress I ran full speed to his bus, jumped up the stairs and yelled "Is someone looking for a high five?" H gives me a huge smile (not normal for him) and says "Yes!!!" We high five and he sits down looking quite pleased.
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