I Remember the Child So Well...
I remember the child so well. He would enter the preschool classroom almost every morning like a storm and some mornings you could even smell the storm. Other children would scatter as they knew those who remained in his way risked being pushed out of the path as he would make his way to his cubby each morning. His tense dusty face displayed hurt, often disguised as anger. Only one thing was found to help calm his upsets and calm our mornings. It was the rocking chair. I had my husband’s grandfather’s old wooden rocker in my classroom. Morning after morning, we would rock together and I would sing “Jesus Loves Me”. While rocking, the anger and hurt would seem to dissipate. We would rock until his dusty, grimace face was calm and even sometimes streaming with tears. Sometimes while rocking, I would think of the other children, wondering “when do I get to teach”. Thinking of the new big book that I just couldn’t wait to share or the pumpkin recipe I couldn’t wait to try during the morning circle time. Morning after morning, circle time was often interrupted in this way. As days went on, our trips to the rocking chair became fewer and fewer, and some days I wasn’t needed in the rocking chair at all. This sometimes grimace faced child had learned to regulate his own emotions by going to the rocking chair to rock and calm his upsets on his own. It was then I realized in those moments that I had rocked and rocked, I had indeed been teaching. I was teaching more than that of any big book or circle time activity. The other children too had learned how to calm and self-regulate as they saw first hand an upset child who was calmed each day.
I also learned that before the needs of this child could be met, I had to find out his story, and we all have a story. He was living in very impoverished circumstances. His hurting manifested itself as anger and resentment. With no running water at home, his physical needs were not being met. As I modeled compassion and empathy for the child, the other children quickly joined in. As arrangements through a local church were made to meet the child's physical needs, his emotional needs were being attended in the classroom.
One day soon after, I heard a knock at the classroom door. As I opened the door, there stood the child’s parents, both mom and dad. They had come to personally offer thanks. Their visit came as a surprise to me as transportation wasn't easily accessible for the family. After that visit, I never saw the parents again. Time not wasted. Lessons not forgotten.
