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The Kid You Have

Just so that's in your head.
For what it's worth, when applied to most of life, I hate that song. I am ambitious. If I don't like something, I change it. If I can't be "with the one I love", then damnit, I'm not going to be with anyone.
I don't have that choice with my students. Despite the occasional fantasy of a child who is constantly on task, follows all directions to the letter, and never yells for a butt wipe (this is preschool, after all), I couldn't just take on those kids, even if they existed.
Better writers than I have hammered home that children are too often held to higher expectations than adults. People who are worse equipped to handle sleep deprivation, hunger, thirst, and other discomfort and also expected to eat on a strict schedule, nap at nap time, play but not too rough or for too long or too loudly... you get the idea.
So when one comes into my home, all booger nosed and ornery, we talk. As the adult, it's my job to make that connection, even if at first I cringe when I see the clock near the time they arrive. It's my job to be forthcoming and completely honest with myself, and with them. When the milk- spitting, toddler-shoving, throwing all the toys over the fence kid is here in all her glory, boy do we talk. Like today. Today, I'd had it. Child A was hitting balls into the road, screaming when anyone came near them, throwing rocks, hitting with sticks. I'd had it. My heart rate was skyrocketing, the urge to pull out a time-out chair was growing just to make this kid STOP. So I brought them over to me. I asked if they would sit in my lap and talk for a minute. They agreed. I said, "I'm angry right now, and I think you are too."
They nodded.
"I am getting angry because the rules I set to keep you and your friends happy and safe are challenging. You want to throw rocks and I want them to stay on the ground. You want to hit the baseballs in the road and, I want them to stay inside the fence. But if the baseballs leave the yard, we won't have any to play with. If your friends get hurt, they'll be sad, and I will be too. I want you to be happy here, and having these rules helps. When it looks like you're not being safe, I get scared and angry, just like you get scared and angry when you see me coming over to tell you that I'm angry"
Did the child understand all of those words? Maybe. Did they get the message, even if they didn't follow everything? Amazingly, yes. They kept the balls in the yard, asked for what they needed, and stopped climbing over all the other kids. Will we have this conversion again on Monday? Undoubtedly. But I'd rather have open and honest conversations than send a kid to the "time out chair" to stew. And for my part, saying my feeling about the situation allowed me to process where my reactions were coming from. As the adult, it's my responsibility to keep up with my own inner work. I unfortunately can't choose to not bring my own ego to work work me. But I can keep it under control, just as I hope to guide them to.

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