One Little Flower

I have a child in my class this year who I have to share with you. Both of his biological parents did not want him and/or couldn't take care of him, so he lives with another relative (who seems to be doing very well with him). As I read over his registration papers before school started, it was mentioned that he has behavior problems and might be getting a behavior diagnosis. Great. The idea of having a child with a behavior problem was not appealing. I don't need extra stress right now. I tried to have him taken out of my class. I dreaded meeting this family at Meet the Teacher.

Are you noticing the selfishness in those past few sentences? I hope so. It appears that I have forgotten that I don't teach for myself; I teach for the children, all the children, especially the ones who need someone to love them and take care of them, if only for a few hours a day.

After meeting the guardian on Monday, I felt some relief. At least she knows there's a problem. Maybe if he takes medication, he'll be fine. Etc. I am so ashamed of those thoughts.

On Thursday, the child did great, and I breathed a sigh of relief. One day down, 179 to go. Friday, everything was going great, and I was beginning to question if this child really did have a behavior problem. Then, prepare yourself for what comes next...

I took the class outside to take their pictures. This child was towards the back of the line. When I got the class to the picture spot, he walked up to me, and he held his hand out to me. Inside his hand was one, little, beautiful flower. He handed me the flower he had stopped to pick along the way, and his face was beaming. At some point along the walk, he saw that flower and decided his judgmental, selfish teacher deserved it. This child I had labeled and tried to get taken out of my class picked me a flower. Oh, how my heart was humbled.

I judged a book by its cover, and had I put that book down like I wanted to, I would have missed one of the most beautiful lessons I've learned in a long time.