Neediness

One of the things I love about teaching elementary school is the little ones. If I could find a (local) school that was K-3, I would be in heaven. I would love that. I love the neediness of the little ones. I love their eagerness. I love that they aren't afraid to tell you that you are important. Don't get me wrong, there are things that I love about my 4th and 5th graders to. You can talk to them and have an *actual conversation*. But they've lost that neediness, the eagerness, the innocence. Or, perhaps they still have those things, but too wrapped up in wanting to fit in and going through puberty and everything else to show it. The older kids are cool in a different way, but I just eat up that neediness of the little ones. I love the "Can you tie my shoe? Can you zip my jacket? Can I give you a hug?" I love feeling needed. But I suppose, who doesn't?
The other day, a first grader named Tatiana came up to me in the school yard, straight off the bus and embraced me around the legs. I hugged her back, because I always would, and because I so desperately needed that hug. She looked up at me with a big, huge smile and said "I squeezed you tight and you squeezed me tight back." I sure did, I said.
There's a boy in second grade named Anthony. He is always smiling. Always. The kind of smile that makes his eyes squint. On top of which, he's missing 3 or 4 teeth on the top and in their place is a retainer, so he smiles this big Jack o'Lantern grin with a little bit of bling on top of it. I told him that I loved to see him smile and that I was going to call him Smiley. That made him smile even bigger.
There's a couple of girls in kindergarten who have the same sneakers that I have. Black sneakers from Payless. When these girls realized this, they went ape-shit. Every time they see that we are wearing the same sneaks, they tell me and show me and giggle. And they always tell me that they know they are the same because they have a red stripe on the bottom.