The one with the handholding..

My job consists of a lot of hand holding. With the kids. Not, like, with other staff members. Because then that would be kind of weird. Not as weird as hugging and kissing your employer. Which, if you still do, say it with me: QUIT! You really need to.

BUT I digress.

So as I was saying, the job consists of a lot of hand holding. The lil tots need that bit of reassuring contact. They need something familiar. They need to be lead. They need a guide. 

Okay, enough with the ‘sensei talk’..basically they need to be taken everywhere. And when I don’t hold their hands-chaos ensues. They run away, they get lost, lose things, crawl under fences, enter bags, play with water,they..oh,no,wait..if you’re a parent reading this I’m kidding!! That never happens. I'm a great teacher..nobody gets lost. That was just a joke. Your kids are awesome.

END OF BLOGPOST

*whispers* Ok, back to the story. Chaos truly ensues if I don’t hold their hands.

Disclaimer: I've never quite actually really maybe perhaps seen
this happening in my classroom.

So there are times I’m holding four plus children at a go. Yeah, I don’t even know how I do it, what with having two hands and all, but it’s got to be done. Because I know where they need to go, and they don’t (not childist).

Second Disclaimer: I did not have any part to play in the creation of
this illustration, especially the spelling.

Once,during break time, I was walking back to class with Lil O. He's an Olympic runner(or cheerer) in the making. Noticing that my hands were laden with bags, he bolted off and disappeared into the mass that is the primary school children. I chased after him, right into the bigger field; right in the middle of the high school football game-right there running after the ball. A 2 year old-surrounded by 14-16 year olds!
"EEeek", I shrieked.
I tried stopping the game. But the mass of teenagers couldn't bother listening to me. I had to go in.
Feeling like a quaterback in a <something sporty> game, I ducked my head and charged for where I last saw him. Dodging bony elbows, sweaty armpits and knobby knees-I reached for...his shoe.
"Gasp", I said, "Lil OOOooo"
In the distance I heard a wail. He's still alive, I thought. Feeling like Mufasa in Lion King I charged; shoving, pushing, trampling, growling-I had to save Simba..and myself. This time, we'd both make it. We had to! For the Pride-lands sake!

So yeah then the bell rang and the mass of testosterone disappeared within 5 seconds. Really?? And Lil O was left there, seated, in the mess of mud. I scooped him up, gave him a kiss, put on his shoe, then put him back down. Then I reached for his hand. And didn't let go..(except to type this).

I sometimes wish someone was there to hold my hand all the time. Imagine if someone knew where I needed to go, and the best way(the one with the least traffic) to get there, then took my hand and led me. If someone knew which course you should study in university, the job you should apply for, who you should date, where you should invest your money, WHICH DARN SHOES TO BUY, which apartment to pick, then took your hand and led you through all of that?

There's so much more a child can do when someone is holding their hand.

Isaiah 41:13

For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you,

Do not fear; I will help you.

"Hold your hands much bigger.

Never wanted mine to grow.

So I could always fit perfect.

Inside your palms just so"

~Chrisette Michelle (Your Joy)~