M & M

I'm like a peanut M&M: hardcore on the outside, but inside ... mostly hardcore.

Today was my last day teaching at a preschool program. Even though I did a lot of the usual things today (took the same kids back to their chairs for the 6th time in a row, wiped up drink spills on the floor, and changed the kind of fuming diapers that contribute more to global warming in an hour than factories in China can), we had a party for me.

One little boy handed me a gift and hugged me goodbye. This particular kid enrolled in our class shortly after I became an instructor. When he first came, he didn't like to share, so after a few weeks, the other kids wouldn't play with him. He was a big kid, so even when he tried to play with others, he'd end up hurting them instead. He often spoke louder than necessary, was aggressive from time to time, and made noises while the other kids listened during lessons.

Over time, he calmed down. He listened more and played with all the new students. He is now one of the friendliest, sweetest boys in our class. When I stood on a chair once to hang up artwork, he said, "Oh, be careful!" with the most honest concern. It gave me hope that somehow, someway, I might be able to raise a child without a criminal history.

Today, I hugged this little boy goodbye. Inside his gift bag, I found toys and a bib for my baby. Recently, we'd practiced writing this kid's name, so when he gave me his gift, I was pleased to see he had shakily, but carefully, written his name on the tag.

Below that was written, "I love you."

The M&M cracked just a bit.