Goodbye.

The last day is never fun. The kids are ramped up… feeling anxious, sad, excited, you name it. It’s not a good mix. At my school, my sprouts meet their first grade teacher on the last day too, which just works them up even more. It’s a fast, sometimes chaotic day and yet I’m sad when it’s over.

In what other grade but kindergarten do they kids say they are genuinely sad school is over? We tried to have as normal a day as possible, but really, it didn’t happen. The hugs were more frequent and much tighter. One little guy almost hurt me he hugged me so tightly… there were no complaints from me.

I almost started to cry at one moment… it was towards the end of the day, they were all shoving the last bits of paper and memorabilia into their backpacks… the classroom got very loud and noisy and I just stood there looking at them all and got overwhelmed with emotion. For the record, I snapped out of it, but it almost happened… almost.

To make matters worse, one of my dear friends was leaving our school today. I stayed to help her pack her room up and tried to bring a little laughter to the sadness of the situation… I got a few chuckles out of her and the others helping, but really, it was all just a show. When I finally got a moment alone with her, I gave her a big hug, kissed her gently on the cheek, and told her I’d see her soon. Goodbyes are no fun.

As luck would have it, the last few itty-bitty friends to leave are some of the most affectionate. No asking for hugs from these characters. They asked me to walk them out to the bus line, something I don’t normally do… today I did. As two of them took my hands, I thought, ‘Wow, another year gone.’ They will visit me next year early and often. I’ll have a new batch of fresh sprouts to nurture. I’ll miss my class, but I know they have the skills (academic and social) to be successful. I'm a teacher... I gave them my all.

Clingy.

"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives." - C.S. Lewis

As I prepare for my last day with my sprouts tomorrow, this quote from the author of The Narnia Chronicles, has stuck in my head like a jingle. Something happens the last few weeks in kindergarten… it didn’t happen when I taught second grade, and I suspect it doesn’t happen in most other grades, my students, all of them, become incredibly clingy.

Maybe it’s all the talk of ‘becoming a first grader’ or just the simple realization the end of our precious time together is near, but my itty bitty friends become, what my mother would refer to as, ‘Velcro puppies’.

The funny thing is, while they are hanging off me at every second possible, I’m finding myself feeling the same way. When they line up at Quiet Time to give me a hug, I’m squeezing them back with just a little more gusto. Grown men can be tenacious too.

There’s another powerful quote about teaching from Carol Buchner – ‘They may forget what you said but they will never forget how you made them feel.” I think it’s the same for teachers. As I look back on the year, it’s not the benchmarks, data, and test results I’ll remember (for the record, they were good), it’s the affection. The love. The way they made me feel.

Graduation Reflections.

Yesterday was our kindergarten graduation. Always a bittersweet day, here some highlights.

• There's nothing much cuter than new dresses and new dress shirts on kindergartners.

• Practicing our songs in the morning, a certain kindergarten teacher had a mini panic attack when the entire class forgot the second verse of 'Rags' - a song we've sung all year long.

• When you realize that every other class is having some sort of celebration around the same time as yours, don't worry about parking... Just email all parents and ask them to take said parking chaos into consideration.

• Realize when your female teaching partner comes back from changing into a dress, a little boy saying, "You look like a cow!" is probably not a good thing... For the record, her dress was black and white - prompting the comment.

• When you emerge from the bathroom wearing a dress shirt and khaki pants and every child swarms to tell you how 'handsome' you are, it's most likely a sign that all the t-shirts and shorts you've been wearing the past few weeks have washed away the fact that you wore the same dress shirt and khaki pants all year long until it hit eighty degrees.

• When, not one, but two little boys have a clothes crisis (scissors and chocolate milk), be sure to start the phone calls to their mothers with 'He isn't hurt' - Both moms arrived with new shirts and for the record, kindergarten moms ROCK. Also of note - no wardrobe malfunctions for the girls.

• When you walk the class down to the cafe-gym-atorium a full half hour before the ceremony begins to set up, do not be surprised to see almost all of the parents there ready and waiting for you... after all, you warned them about the parking.

• When planning your outfit for the celebration, don't forget that while your classroom is air conditioned and cool, the cafe-gym-atorium is not. You will be sweating. You will be shiny. Get over it.

• Don't forget the extension cord for the boom box in the classroom. If you do, when you realize you've forgotten it moments before you need to hip play, you'll have to run back to your classroom on the other side of the school making yourself even sweatier.

• When kneeling down for pictures with every child after the celebration, try not to worry about the pain in your knees on the hard tile floor. Remember why you're here and the smiles will be natural.

• Don't imagine you're the President or Lady Gaga when the flashes from the cameras temporarily blind you.

• When the dust begins to settle and your realize one little boy had nobody show up, do not let his tears make you cry too. Take his hand, walk him back to class and offer him a chocolate pudding from your secret stash. Since naturally he's on the last bus, sit next to him, put your arm around his shoulders and read books with him until his bus is called to distract him from being sad.

• When his bus is finally called and he leaves, remember this is why you teach. You teach for the one kid who is alone after everyone else has left with parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. You teach so you can give him a pudding, read with him, and make him feel better.

Monday is our last day. It's never easy and when I finally say my last goodbyes and get in my car to go home, I fully expect to shed a tear or two.

Teechr.

Yesterday at bus time, Darlene handed me the following note:

I love it for many reasons. First, she has clearly mastered the 'ch' blend - something we've been working on diligently for months. Yay! Second, she loves her teacher, something I never tire of being told. Finally, she wants to be a teacher when she grows up. There's no better compliment than that. She got a big hug for this one.

Pout.

This afternoon, I read a new book… well new to me. The Pout-Pout Fish is the story of a little fish who just simply can’t see past his pouty ways. His ocean friends try to help him turn his mood around – to no avail. Finally, a stranger comes along and gives him a kiss… he flips upside down, and realizes he really isn’t a Pout-Pout fish after all.

Well, I just loved this book. First of all, it’s written in a wonderful silly rhyming pattern that is reminiscent of Dr. Seuss. Secondly, there is not one, but two messages to discuss after reading. First, we talked about how simple it is to make a decision to change who you are… you can decide, at any moment, to be or act differently. I then asked if anyone knew what the second message was… after some silence and blank stares I gave a clue.

“Sometimes, I come to school and I’m not very happy… I might be upset or sad about something going on at home, or even with other adults at school.” I began.

“Then, one of you walks in, and does something that changes my mood…” I hinted.

A few smiles and hands arrived. I called on Audra.

“We hug you!” She exclaimed.

“Yes! Your hugs put a smile on my face and put me in a good mood,” I agreed.

Sometimes a kind gesture, like a smile or hug, can really turn your mood around. Which is a good thing since nobody loves a Pout-Pout fish.

Important.

Yesterday was my birthday. I got many gifts and cards from friends, but, not surprisingly, it was the treasures from my sprouts that made my day. As they each arrived I got many ‘Happy Birthday’ shout outs and extra hugs. They really were excited for my big day. As we do for all birthdays we sang our special birthday song, A Cat Hat A Birthday. It’s way more fun than boring old ‘Happy Birthday’…

A few had made special cards, paintings, notes, and some even had treats! I oohed and ahhed over each surprise and by the time we arrived at the end of Morning Meeting I was on cloud nine. Then Mrs. D. told me they had a surprise for me.

When I was out a few weeks ago, they made me a special book. I had a clue there was something special, but I wasn’t sure what… kindergartners don’t keep secrets well, but they hadn’t spilled the beans entirely.

After reading The Important Book (one of my all time favorites), they wrote a book for me… The Important Thing About Mr. _______. Each child wrote and illustrated a page. As Mrs. D. read the book to me and shared the pictures, I tried my best not to get choked up.

As I sat and listened to her, I was overcome with a deep feeling of gratitude. How lucky can a guy get? I also couldn’t help but be taken aback by what the majority of my sprouts found important about me… sure a few mentioned ‘school stuff’ (he reads to us, he helps us count, and he teaches us), but overwhelmingly, they had written about feelings.

Here are a few highlights.

(Really, what could be more important than love?)

(Hugs are super important too.)

(Overwhelmingly it was about hugs and love. I also realized today, without me for a kindergarten teacher, they wouldn't have mastered the art of drawing curly hair...)

(Whoa.  This one really got me.  Simple, yet surprisingly deep.  Probably my favorite.)

There’s a famous quote, ‘They may forget what you said but they will never forget how you made them feel.’ My sprouts definitely feel loved and really, isn't that the most important part of my job?  After reading my book, I consider myself a success... and that truly is the most awesome gift.  Best. Birthday. Ever.

Lovely.

Today Audra came in and I noticed right away something was different... as she came over for my morning hug, I swore I saw eye makeup on her... it didn't look right to me and not being a makeup expert (add it to the list of things I'm not an expert at), I asked Mrs. D. for her opinion. After scoping out the situation, she decided it was indeed mascara and because of the clumpy sticky look, most likely put on by Audra herself.

About midway through the morning, during Snack Time, when Audra came approached me for another hug (she really loves to hug), I thought I smelled a rather strong perfume.

"Are you wearing perfume," I asked.

She blushed.

"Yeah, it's my mom's... but she doesn't know I'm wearing it," she admitted.

"What about your makeup?" I prodded.

"No, I snuck it, but my dad saw before I left," she confessed.

"Well you look and smell lovely," I said.

"Lovely... I like that," she answered.

Another hug.

I'd love to see her mother's reaction when she gets off the bus and sees and smells her handy work.

Evelyn and Jason.

We all know the drill. The sprouts with the highest academic and behavior needs get the higher percentage of our attention… day in and day out. Is it fair? Absolutely not. Unfortunately, it’s just the way the cookie crumbles and there’s not much you can do about it.

Lucky for me, with a team teaching situation this year, I’m finding I can give more attention to all children, regardless of academic or behavior concerns. No doubt, those ‘squeaky wheels’ always get a little more regard, but those ‘rocks’ as I like to call them (rocks as in, ‘like a rock’ sturdy and steady, I don’t have to worry about them too much) get more than usual.

Two of my sprouts who fit into that category this year are Evelyn and Jason. Both are quiet, respectful, and academically strong. It’s easy to see how each could get lost in the shuffle, but having two teachers has allowed them more one on one and ‘small moment’ time.

As long as I teach, I’ll never forget hearing Evelyn’s mother tell me at last summer’s open house, “She doesn’t really like men.” Yikes. Good thing my teaching partner is a woman. Funny thing is, turns out Evelyn just hadn’t met the right guy yet… me. Surely she was slower to warm up to my charms, but eventually, in her own time, she allowed me to show her the kindness she deserved.

Last week, Evelyn presented me with the following:

“Thank you,” I said.

“I think you’re sweet too,” I finished as she smiled at me. She offered a rare and cherished hug.

Jason too is a quiet boy who, unlike most boys in kindergarten, rarely acts silly or needs to be reigned in. If I never said, ‘Jason, thank you for sitting politely and being ready to learn,’ the poor boy would barely ever hear his name. While other boys seek me out for hugs and handholding (yes, the boys crave them), Jason would always stay back, preferring to offer a smile instead.

About two weeks ago, Jason came up to me during Quiet Time and asked if he could have a hug. Naturally, I obliged, but I was surprised by his request. After our hug, as he pulled back, I said, “Thank you for such a nice hug.”

Since then, he’s begun asking for hugs every day. I’m not sure what exactly prompted that first hug request, but as with most things hug related, I don’t question it, I just take my hugs as they come… and they are plentiful.

This year, Evelyn and Jason have taught me an important lesson. While the squeaky wheel usually gets the grease, silence is golden and deserves to be noticed, rewarded, and hugged.

Moment.

Today I had a special moment… if you’re a teacher, you already know what I’m talking about. One of those instances where something magical happens and the energy from it just overtakes you. Sometimes the sprout doesn’t even realize it until you let them in on the moment… today, when I pulled Darcy to read, I had one.

We’ve been pulling kids at quiet times (yes, they happen in kindergarten) to DRA them. The DRA – the Developmental Reading Assessment is a reading test measuring accuracy, fluency, and comprehension. At the kindergarten level, we start low, usually with a level one or two, sometimes higher, depending on the child. Darcy was reading a two.

For most kids, the two is just about right. The teacher reads the first page, ‘I can see a red boat’ modeling pointing to each word and then the child reads the rest of the book. Each page has a large picture with a clue to finish the line, ‘I can see a…’ – if children take their time and point, they usually pass.

The problem is the last page. After an entire book with the ‘I can see a’ pattern, the final page reads, ‘And I can see bubbles’ – that ‘And’ is the fly in the ointment. Even though they are pointing to each word, many kids pass right over the ‘And’ and just keep reading.

When Darcy first got to the ‘And’ she didn’t read it. She pointed to each word, “I can see…” She stopped. Without looking up at me, she knew something was wrong. She began again, pointing, “I can see” not reading the ‘And’ – after a third time she finally, she got it. She paused her finger over the ‘And’ and after a moment, read the page, pointing to each word correctly.

The hairs on the back of my head stood up.

We finished the assessment and I gave Darcy a hug. I couldn’t help it. These moments are why we teach. Don’t forget to notice and cherish them.

First.

With the arrival of spring, the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming, and the need to be first in line more than anything else in the world as begun. I’ll never quite understand why certain children have an overwhelming desire to be first in line all the time… there are always those rebels who want nothing more than to be last, but most wish to be at the head of the line.

During the day, when we line up, we have always have a line leader and a caboose. These ‘jobs’ are listed each morning in the message so sprouts know exactly who needs to be where and there’s no question about it… naturally, being second becomes the goal at this point.

The major problem arises at bus time… our school dismisses students in bus waves, so there are basically about six bus lines that form in a twenty-five minute period. If you’re ‘first’ that day, you get to be first in your bus line, but what about the other five lines? Children know they aren’t allowed to run… you’d be amazed at the speed walking to line. I happen to know speek walking is an Olympic event and some of these kids could definitely medal.

I’ve tried joking with them.

“Does the person first in line get a pony? A giant chocolate cake? A pot of gold?” I asked.

Blank stares. My rapier wit is lost on them. I’ve tried a more literal approach.

“Aren’t you all going to the same place… the bus? Why is it so important to be first?” I prodded.

More blank stares. I’m starting to realize, they don’t really know why they want to be first.

Which naturally made me start to think about why… why do some kids (again others could care less…) just NEED to be first?

For some, they simply want to be closest to me. I’m a nice guy. My hand is big and ripe for the holding… but there are others who have never given a hug, never grabbed my hand and yet still, everyday, the race to the front ensues. Why?

Maybe some kids are just super competitive… maybe they fight for their parents attention at home with a sibling and are just conditioned to try and elbow their way to the front… maybe the survival of the fittest really is hard wired into some people’s DNA more than others…

Whatever the reason, I’ve started a new strategy. On certain days, for certain lines (they never know which…) I do what I call the ‘Line Flip’ – after everyone has arrived in line, I shout ‘Line Flip’ and the entire line has to flip. The leader becomes last, the caboose the leader and everyone in between changes position. It’s a lovely thing.

Better.

This week, as we prepare for Mother’s Day, we’re reading books all about the love of dear old mom. Today, as I read Kiss It Better by Hiawyn Oram about a little bear whose mother kisses all her hurts better, I couldn’t help but think about the way my sprouts kiss all my problems away.

To be clear, there is no kissing in kindergarten. When someone has a boo-boo that needs attention, I usually brush it off, hold it up to them, and have the child kiss it. A kiss really does make everything better, but we can’t kiss, so other things will have to suffice.

When I’m feeling down, frustrated, angry, or blue (usually because of something to do with another adult, not a child…), it’s a child that ‘kisses’ my troubles better. Smiles, hugs, or taking my hand is all it takes. A simple gesture goes a long way in making you feel better. Children inherently know this… I wish more adults did.

Affection.

This afternoon, as I dismissed the class to get ready to go home, Evelyn hung back, standing a few feet away from me, just looking up at me. Clearly she wanted to tell or ask me something, so I took the bait.

“Do you need something?” I inquired.

She didn’t reply. She hesitated for a moment and then, with quite a bit of gusto, dove in for a tight hug.

That’s all she wanted. A hug… which naturally got me thinking about hugs and affection in our classroom.

Some sprouts can’t get enough hugs… they grab one whenever the opportunity arises, and often, even when it’s not the best time, like when the class is loud and I’m trying to quiet them, someone will lurk up to me and steal a hug. These are the sprouts that always seem to want contact... when they know a hug might not be right, they reach up and take your hand or lean on your shoulder when you're taking a brief moment to sit down.

Others almost never offer a hug. They’re sweet and kind, but for whatever reason, they don’t particularly want or need hugs… and then, out of the blue, they do. Like Eveylyn today. I think this might have been only the second or third time she’s wanted a hug all year.

Sometimes I think those rare hugs are extra special because I know a lot of thought and affection went into them… on the other hand, the ones that never stop hugging me are special too. I suppose pondering which type of hug is best is a good problem to have.

Etiquette.

With two teachers and double the number of kids, walking in line in the hallway has become an art form. Usually one of us takes the front and the other the back. It works well because between the two of us, we can see almost the entire line.

Today, as I waited to take my place at the end of our line to head out for recess, the kids walked by waving, smiling, and hugging me.

Martin walked out of his place in line, approached me and said, “Mr. _______, can I take your hand and walk with you, please and thank you.”

What? ‘Please and thank you’? Really? This was something new… and for one of the few times in my day, I was speechless for a moment.

“Um, sure Martin,” I replied.

I mean really, how could I argue with such etiquette?

He reached up took my hand and we walked out.

I looked down at him and he said, “You said ‘yes’ because I’m so nice, right?”

“Partly… also because you asked so politely,” I answered.

With that we headed outside to play.

Remedy.

Let me start today with a confession. This morning, after my alarm went off and I was shuffling around trying to get my act together after a week off from school for Spring Break, I had a bratty baby moment… when nobody was listening, I whined a little… it was something like, ‘I don’t wanna go back to work’ in the most pathetic voice you can imagine.

Well, I did go in, and about two seconds after eight o’clock, when the first few sprouts skipped in, I felt much better. There really is something about smiles and hugs from five-year-olds that can brighten your day and make work, well, not really work.

As the day went on, I expected to become increasingly tired… I’m still fighting off bronchitis and am not quite back to my true self. It didn’t happen. The hugs, smiles, and stories just kept coming and kept me alert and ready. On the drive home my day finally caught up with me, but when I’m there, with the kids, experiencing our joy together, I’ve got the best remedy you could ask for.

Security.

Well apparently when you are sick for over two weeks you need to go to the doctor… thankfully my dear friend Ms. R. nagged me enough and I finally went… severe bronchitis. I’ve never had bronchitis before, and the ‘severe’ just was the icing on the cake… I was given three medications and told to ‘rest’… not always easy for me. I cued up some movies and was thrilled to see there was a new Peanuts flick I hadn't seen called Happiness is a Warm Blanket.

Now I love me some Snoopy. If I ever was brave enough to get a tattoo it would surely be Snoopy… for the record I’m not a fan of needles so only temporary tattoos for me. As I watched the new movie I came to a stark realization… as much as I love Snoopy, I’m actually more of a Linus. I had a major blanket infatuation as a child and had some major connections to the story.

The basic plot centers on Linus and his beloved blanket. His sister Lucy wants to rid him his dirty habit and enlists the help of the entire gang to try and remove the pale blue blanket from his constant grip. In one of the final scenes, Linus stands in front of his sister and friends and first, admits his insecurities and need for his blanket, and second, makes them all realize they too are insecure and perhaps if they all had a blanket, would be better off.

Children need to feel secure. Part of our job (and the jobs never end…) as teachers is to make our sprouts feel safe. When we hold them accountable to the rules, they understand we’ll keep them in bounds… they feel secure and the love flows. I love how when I get firm with a child, or heaven forbid raise my voice (really, it’s rare) and they turn around with a ‘I love you’ and a hug… they crave boundaries. Sometimes being firm can be a lot like a warm blanket.

Meetings.

Meetings… ugh. Today I had an entire full day of Very Important Meetings. I had a sub and everything. I was doing more shifting in my seat and leg tapping than all my sprouts combined. I abhor meetings. I finished about forty-five minutes before the day ended. The office told me I could just do some work since I already had a sub and the day was almost over… I went back to my classroom.

I was attacked with smiles and hugs and in that moment I remembered why I’m not a ‘meeting’ guy but rather a ‘kindergarten teacher’ guy.

Connie gave me this picture she had worked on…

“I’m not finished with it, but you can take it home and color the rest!” She exclaimed.

Of course that must be what I do when I get home… color!

Kelly, who has some major speech issues and has yet to string more than two words together came up to me, handed me a note and said, as clear as day, “I love you Mr. _______.”

Cue the single tear and my heart breaking just a tiny bit.

As much as I don’t love meetings, they help me remember how much I love my job and I love my sprouts.

Medicine.

Wow. After missing two days last week and then the weekend, I wasn’t prepared for how darn missed I was. From the moment the sprouts filed into the classroom this morning, I was showered with ‘I miss you’ and hugs from left and right.

David made a point to pull me aside and tell me, “Mr. _______, I missed you so badly, I missed you the two days you were out and I thought about you all weekend long, I’m so glad you’re back.”

He really seemed to mean it too.

Martin forgot our conversation and tried to climb on my lap… a few times.

Audra gave me a few random hugs during transitions… she just couldn’t resist.

I got a few hugs from boys who were first timers… they’d never offered one before.

I started my day not feeling so well. I wasn’t sure I’d even made the right decision to go in today… but as the day progressed and I was showered with hugs, smiles, and genuine heartfelt love, I actually felt better. I know, it sounds corny, but it’s true. Those sprouts were just the medicine I needed.

I wonder how many of my non-teacher friends are missed so badly when they miss a few days of work?

Love.

So in my flu fog of lying on the sofa napping on and off (which felt more like going in and out of consciousness), I heard something on one of the morning talk shows about love. I’m not sure what channel it was, what show it was, or exactly who said it, but the discussion was about measuring the success of your life in love.

Instead of how much money or fame you’ve accumulated as a barometer for success, how much love have you given and how much have you received would be a better way to measure the achievement of your life. This thought perked me up… if only for a moment. I jotted it down in my notebook and fell back to sleep. When I woke hours later (seriously, being sick stinks), I was still thinking about it... which also made me think of this little guy playing his heart out about... yes, love.

Naturally, as a kindergarten teacher, love is a currency exchanged daily. I get more notes and pictures that proclaim adoration for me than I can count. I’m told ‘I love you’ dozens, if not more, times a day. Beyond the concrete displays of love (hugs are numerous and heartfelt), the smiles I get (particularly from one little guy who would probably never say he loved me), just exude love.

I have to admit, I feel it back. Even during my worst moments, when my patience is dwindling, when if I hear ‘Mr. ______, Mr. _______, Mr. _______!’ one more time I think my head might pop off, even then, I still love my sprouts. Each and every one of them.

This love fest I encounter each day at school leads me to believe I’m doing quite well in life. I’m not famous and have zero interest in starring on a reality show. My bank account isn’t busting at the seams and probably never will. My love piggybank is busting at the seams though… color me successful.

Lap.

Martin and I have a problem. He’s small. He’s young. He’s extremely affectionate and loves giving hugs and holding hands. Apparently, he also loves sitting in laps.

Everyday at bus time, when I sit in the Rest Stop he approaches me for a hug… problem is, he tries to somehow turn the hug into lap sitting. He literally tries to climb into my lap. Each day I gently push him off and tell him to stand up if he wants to give me a hug. He never argues or questions me… until today.

“But why can’t I just sit in your lap?” He asked innocently.

“Martin, I know you sit in your mom and dad’s lap at home, but at school, it’s just not allowed,” I explained.

I’m not sure if there is an explicit rule against lap sitting… I’m guessing some female kindergarten teachers may allow it, but I know if anyone walked by and saw that boy sitting on my lap, it wouldn’t be looked upon fondly. It’s also a slippery slope. If I let him, I’d have many others climbing up for a turn. My lap can’t handle that much traffic.

“Well, you can hug me and hold my hand, but we just can’t have lap sitting at school… it’s just one of those rules we have to obey…” I continued.

“But I love you,” he reasoned.

“I love you too, but we can show each other in other ways,” I explained.

“Ok, an extra hug then?” He asked.

“Of course,” I said as he fell into my arms.

Cough.

During Quiet Time, sprouts often come up to offer hugs, ask for their shoes to be tied, or whisper sweet nothings (‘I love you,’ ‘You’re my friend,’ and ‘You’re the best teacher in the word’ are some of my favorites). Sometimes, when they all have something to share, a small line forms. They stand quietly waiting their turn for a little one on one attention and then go back to their seats.

The other day, Sarah was standing off to the side while I tied some shoes. She waited for about three or four minutes in complete silence. Sarah is one of the sweetest little girls I’ve met. She has a quiet and gentle nature about her… oh and she sounds like her nose is perpetually stuffed. I’ve come to believe that’s just how she sounds because nobody has a cold for over eight months.

As Sarah approached me, I was expecting a hug. With her calm nature, she usually doesn’t say anything during Quiet Time, even when visiting me. She typically just offers a sincere hug and smile and then returns to her seat. After waiting for what I imagine seems like an eternity for a five-year-old, she walked up to me, her face only a few inches from mine and… coughed.

It was a loud cough. Despite our constant teaching and reviewing of how to cover your mouth (with the inside of your elbow), she made no effort to cover her mouth or shield me from her germs. Basically, she held that cough in just for me. She did give me a warm hug afterwards, but the cough seemed to linger. I love the gifts my sprouts offer up on a daily basis, but this was one I would have gladly done without.