A few times during class this week, my little princess said, I don't want to to go home. Mommy doesn't play with me. I will miss you, Miss Karen. The last time she said it today I said, I will miss you too. Then I quickly got busy doing something else because my heart was breaking, a little crack at a time.
signing the word "special" for our program
photo by Luann Hawker at www.wholegrainphotography.net
This school year has not been without it's struggles. One student can throw a pretty mean go-ahead-and-take-every-privlidge-away-I-don't-care-because-my-dad-has-already-given-me-money kind of tantrum. The heels dig in, the face gets red, and the threats fly about how he is going to run away from school and never come back. I still love that kid. I don't still love him because I am angel. And I don't love him because I am obligated to, even though sometimes that is a good enough reason. I love him because somehow, in this job, I have been granted a little extra portion, so that I can see the whole child, including his circumstances, as a little package of potential and squishy goodness. No matter what. And I am certain my technicians would say the same thing.
So on this last day of school, in my first year of special ed teaching, I was a little caught up short on how much it actually hurt to say goodbye. I have been the student. I have been blessed. I have fallen in love.