Motherly Instincts

Spending seven hours a day, four days a week with the students, allows for a lot of quality time. Especially with three, four, and five years old the nuturing side of any teacher would begin to show and strengthen. I can't describe why it happens or when it happens or even how it happens, but it seems with every teacher there were always be a student or two, with whom the bond created is deeper, the trust is stronger, and the understanding is crystal clear.

Looking at all of my students, I feel like the mother to them all. I worry about them, I care for them, I love them, and I want each and every one to succeed. I know each child. I know how he/she thinks, what he/she likes, what he/she thinks is "cool", what he/she enjoys doing outside of school, I know the names of their pets, their dolls, their action figures, and I know what they need - emotionally, socially, and academically.

The three year old in my class has created a stronger bond with me than some of the other students. The level of trust I have gained with this child is nothing short of extraordinary ... considering that for the first couple of months of school, he would scream and cry and sleep his way throughout the day.

I know this child is independent. He doesn't want to hold your hand as he gets on the bus. I can understand this child. I know what he is trying to say when others cannot understand his speech. I know this child wants to participate but at times is intimidated by the other students. I know he will come to circle if he gets to sit on my lap, sit near me, or have a "helper" task. I know that when others try to force him to do something, get stern, or are intimidating, he will lash out. I know that when he has a "fit" for not getting his way, it will last no longer than three minutes. I know that in order for him to go to sleep he will need the bean bag down off the shelf.

... As I know this child and know how fragile he is, my motherly instincts take over. When I see another adult who does not understand him, become frustrated when they can't understand him, or when he isn't "listening" to them, I can not help but to step in - I want him to be successful. I want him to enjoy school, not to become afraid.

As I reflect back, I see so many large gains in him. From now sitting with the other kids in class, to lining up among them, to sitting in his own spot at circle, I know his trust in the school is building. But, as I think about the bond I have with this child, I can't help but worry. What will happen to him next year? Will someone else be as understanding and patient as myself and his other two teachers have been with him?

I worry about all my students, for they have become my children, and my motherly instincts are in full force.