7- Hugs

I don’t like it when the kids hug me. I’m afraid they’ll get me sick. Some of them are gross. As mean as it sounds- kids are filthy. Some kids stink and are dirty. They have dried goop on their clothes and crusties on their faces. I have seen the slimy places their fingers have traveled. I’m not just talking about the poor kids. Yesterday, I saw a boy jump out of a Mercedes, fall into a pile of dog crap, and then wipe his hands off on his freshly ironed shirt as he entered the school building.
Despite my distaste for germs and grime, I never reject a hug. If I see one coming, I open my arms and smile and then squeeze the kid as tight as they squeeze me. I’m not evil, I just don’t like germs.
A little blond girl from Caroline’s class keeps coming up to me, hugging me and calling me “Mommy.” The first time she did it, I thought it was sweet and I hugged her back. Now the girl has approached me several times, and it’s started to get on my nerves. She’s cute, but I’m nobody’s “Mommy” and I like it that way. I expressed my annoyance to a fellow teacher at the lunch table, and the teacher gave me a little insight that made me feel guilty. Apparently, the little girl does not have a mother or a father, and lives with her grandparents. For what ever reason, she’s decided to use me as her “Mommy Figure.” Hearing this news made me feel very sad. I’m learning that children do not all come from roses and sunshine homes; I suspect there are some very tragic stories out there, and this is just the beginning.