Schooooool's Out For Summer!

June 19, 2009

Schoooool's out forEVER!

The last day of school called for a lot of hugs. Regardless of what day it is, though, 5-year-olds have an inherent hugging impulse, as if it is in their nature to love. I think the hug control center is located somewhere near the thymus, but the impulse remains virtually uncontrollable until kids reach the age of 7 or 8. Until then, all they can do is helplessly follow their arms as they desire to wrap themselves around some warm-blooded target standing around in the same room.

Of course, by high school and university, to have such a compulsion to hug your teacher during class is far from endearing- and rather a symptom of some psychological instability. Sometimes, when I observe my younger kids, it occurs to me how such alien yet adorable behavior would be considered repulsive in an adult, and usually a sign of mental retardation. This double standard is disquieting. Teaching such young kids has made me realize just how much is lost in the inevitable process of growing up. Unconditional love to the point of idolization, unsuppressed displays of affection, laughter that brightens the entire face with utter delight, playfulness and boundless energy, endless curiosity and wonder at the smallest things...and half of these things are lost in school, where they are trained to sit still and be quiet and not interrupt class with hugs. But admittedly, it is sensible and necessary to learn to lose some of these childish behaviors in order to train the mind, function in group settings, blah blah blah, and most importantly, so that they don't drive their teachers crazy.

Speaking of which...Before I knew it, the bus kids were gone, and I was left in the dirty, cluttered classroom with the remaining kids running around and chasing and hitting each other as usual. By this time, though, I usually allow them to be kids again.

“Miss Angie! Diyar and Tara are hitting me!” Daryan came to me complaining while my brain was still trying to comprehend that it was almost over.

“Diyar, Tara, you can hit each other, but stop bothering Daryan.”

Diyar and Tara grinned at each other and turned their (harmless) weapons on each other instead of Daryan. Crisis easily averted. It hit me as I was standing around, that I'd never see the bus kids again, and suddenly the last high-fives and goodbyes I gave as they filed out the door weren't enough. I regretted not taking one last long look at little Shene's face, or picking up Hoz and tickling the little puppy one last time, or...damn, but these moments pass too quickly! So many things were going on at that moment that I just treated it as just an end to yet another school day, and suddenly they were gone. I scooped up Zerin and smothered her with kisses before handing her to her sister, and Bariz the Panda threw himself at me one last painful (he's a hefty kid) time before heading out with his driver.

Goodbye, my babies! Qua xafis, darnafis (”See you later, alligator”)!