(They are far kinder to me than I am to myself.)
Then today, on the playground, a student named Morgan, blubbering: “Miss Jess . . . No one wants to play with me. I don’t know why, but no one wants to play with me.” His blue eyes pooled with tears.
“Well, umm . . . [What to say? I haven’t worked with little kids long. I’m not used to this!] Did you ask the other students if you could play with them? [Looking around.] Umm . . . What about them?” I pointed to a group of students by the jungle gym. “Did you ask them?”
“No . . .”
“Why don’t you try asking them?”
“Uhh.” A shadow of doubt clouded his brow. I could see his mind’s wheels churning. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Uhh, okay!” And off he went, chubby legs and freckles flying. And for the moment, he was forgotten. “Miss Jess!!! I need a baaaand-aiddd! Whaaa!!!” [Oh boy . . .]
That is, until several minutes later. Flushed and out of breath, Morgan ran past me. “Hey, Miss Jess!” He looked back as he flew by. He was following the group I’d pointed out earlier. He gave me a thumbs up and grinned. “Thanks!”
I laughed — long and hard.
Oh, Morgan, you sweet child.