Last night I had one of the worst dreams I’ve had in a long while and I think it’s a reflection of how passionately I feel about children and teaching. I woke up crying, which hasn’t happened in a long time. I can never really remember the very beginning of any dream, but I remember being in a foreign place in a school yard as school was getting out. As kids were coming out of doors, I heard gun shots and I ran towards the sound. I never actually saw who was doing the shooting, but I came across several babies and toddlers that had been shot. The dream was super fuzzy time wise, but I vividly remember going down a hallway and seeing a child no more than two years old, she was dead. No one else was around and I felt like it had been an hour that all of this had happened and not one cop, not one ambulance, not one person rushing to these children. I knelt down and picked up this little girl I did not know and began to wail. I don’t know that I can even describe the anguish I felt in my dream. I was screaming and crying for someone’s baby who deserved to be alive and had worth. I heard little noises coming from a few feet away and it was another child. As I turned towards the other child another person came down the hallway and asked if I there was something we could do. I looked at the child barely alive and said, “No one is coming, there’s absolutely no way she’s going to live.” As I said those words, her eyes just closed and she died.
Dreams are something that I’ve always paid close attention to because they are so often full of vivid images and intense emotions. My dream was in fact morbid and my first instinct would be to say, that was one screwed up dream and then forget about it. As I wrote this dream down in my dream journal, I kept thinking of the past summer and the reflecting I’ve been doing this last week. All of which has been about school, work, my own childhood, and loving children.
Throughout this summer, I’ve had many of my kids come up to me with a big hug or just a smile paired with, “ I love you, Miss Katie”. Hearing that from my kids in my class made my heart so full of joy and made me smile from ear to ear. Everyone likes to be liked and I don’t think any teacher wants to be known as the mean, cold, uncaring teacher. I think what felt so good about hearing those words from my kids was the fact that I knew they weren’t lying. They had no ulterior motives or reason to lie to me. That’s when I started thinking about how pure a child’s love is and what their concept of love consists of. A boy named Logan would tell me he loved me at the most random times and I kept trying to figure out what would prompt him. It would make sense to me that if I give a three year old a cookie, he might say, I love you. With Logan there didn’t seem to be a reason other than the fact that he wanted to tell me. At 3 and 4 they’re going to throw tantrums, break things, and ignore you when you’re talking to them, but they’re innocent. The way they perceive the world holds so much naiveté.The good kind.
Last Thursday I was substituting for another teacher and I had a very challenging experience with one of the new kids in the class. A round faced 3 year old boy with his own mission to be accomplished. Unfortunately, his mission did not consist of anything I wanted him to do or any of the rules and routines. As the day went on I became increasingly annoyed and frustrated with this kid. He barely spoke to anyone or to me and when asked a question I would get nothing. He understood everything I was saying, but would choose to walk away mid sentence. While I was watching some of the kids on the playground I noticed this boy taking apart something that he shouldn’t have. I’ve always been told that what I had to say is ten times more effective if I go to the child and talk with them eye level than to yell across the playground. I asked him to come down and talk to me for a second and that I wasn’t going to yell, I just wanted to talk to him. He looked at me and stood there. I gave him a choice: I was going to help him come down or he could come down by himself. Without one word or movement, he made the choice. I started up the climber and realized the fun game I had created. He began to bolt for the slide as I climbed up stairs getting angrier and angrier. I turned around and met him at the bottom of the slide and sort of laughed at myself. What did I expect from a three year old? Heck, I would have loved to play a game of chase with my teachers on the climber. He saw a game and played it. He and I talked and he responded with one word, “yes”. The rest of the afternoon was my frustration level rose. With most of the kids, I give them simple step by step directions for each transition and it’s the same everyday. They all know the routine and yet this one boy was provoking a frustration I didn’t care for. I started asking him to do one thing at a time and he’d wander off. At this point I was angry and I think a part of me wanted to yell and get the point across. IT ISN’T HARD.
How could I get so frustrated at this child who has probably never been in a childcare facility, doesn’t really want to be there, doesn’t really know the other kids, and has some bossy teacher lady he just met telling him what to do. I felt like an idiot. A meanie face idiot.
Sometimes in our logical grownup minds, we forget what it’s like to be a young child and the way the world looks. Not to excuse bad behavior or to dismiss every defiant thing a child does, but to bring understanding into the picture. As I looked at how I had been dealing with this boy, I realized I had been going about it all wrong. I started talking to him and asking him question. If I was going to have to guide him through something as simple as washing his hands or throwing away his napkin, so be it. I explained why we had to do every little thing and that it would be something he would do everyday. He said very little until nap and laid down for rest. After he had woken up from his nap and started to put on his shoes, he ran up to me with his shoes back on his feet and exclaimed, “Look Miss!!! Eyes and teeth!!!” I looked down and saw that his croc’s had eyes on the toes and little holes around the front to look like teeth. I smiled and he grabbed my hand to play with him. The rest of the day he came to me asking questions and showing me all the things he had found throughout the classroom. I smiled because I knew that if I hadn’t stopped my anger and frustration and thought about what he was thinking, he wouldn’t have opened up like that. I suddenly saw a little boy that was scared and just wanted someone to pay attention and help him, not someone to yell at him.
I left work that day thinking of my own father and that brought me to tears because I knew how I felt at three years old being screamed at. I couldn’t really tell you all the things he yelled at me for. I’m sure there were many occasions I probably deserved it, but there were too many times I didn’t. My father taught me to fear him. When he screamed at the top of his lungs, I didn’t hear a word about what I was doing wrong and I didn’t understand what I should’ve done differently. I just knew that I made him angry and I was absolutely terrified. When my brother and I would visit my dad on weekends, we would stand behind his couch as my dad watched TV and bribe each other to tell our dad we were ready for lunch or that we wanted to go outside and play. Let me just say for the record, my father was NEVER physically abusive and I never thought I was going to be hit. I was just terrified of being screamed at for any sort of interruption or movement. I look back on visiting with my dad without anger or bitterness, but a sadness and determination. I love my father and I could list all the possible reasons of why he was the way he was and I know he loved my brother and I very much despite the screaming. I believe this has brought more determination to be the type of mother and teacher I desire so much. I don’t know all the right ways to raise a child or even teach and I’m not going to pretend that I know more than my own parents, but I see something in children that allows me to see the world in a very unique way.
If anyone knows me well, they know that I love children more than anything else. I’m passionate and driven to show children the same pure love that they show me. When I look at a child, I see worth. I want so badly for every child I come across to know they are valuable and have something to give in this world. I honestly can’t imagine anything more rewarding or better to give my life to. As I continue on my journey as a teacher and perhaps a mom, I’ll keep praying every day for the yearning to possess a gentle yet firm spirit and the humility to remind me when I’m wrong.
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