It's the Neediest Ones

"It's the neediest ones who stay with you." I was a first year teacher at the time one of my co-workers made this statement.  She said it with such a neutral tone. A fact. Nothing more. Nothing less. "Neediest," I thought to myself, "Maybe I misunderstood.  Naughtiest seems more like it."

A kindergarten classroom is a conglomerate.  A hodgepodge of little humanity: sweet, kind, ornery, undisciplined, energetic, helpful, fretful, timid, and talkative. They are my kids. We spend a year getting to know each other, then our time together is over.  I tuck the class and its memories, good and bad' away. These kids have a piece of my heart.

Then sometimes, years later, a student will come flooding back into my consciousness.  

The restaurant was crowded and the only place my family could get seating was outside on the sidewalk. It was a lovely evening in early summer.  Once the sun slid behind a building and the heat of the day subsided, it was quite pleasant. At the table next to us was a young girl with a head of unruly hair tamed into a ponytail.  It was beautifully thick and dark, but obviously the curls had plans of their own. I could see them bounce as she talked animatedly to her family. Something about her captivated me.  When she turned her face towards me, my mind was flooded with memories of Misty. The girls could be sisters.  They both had thick beautiful hair, a round face, a smile that light up the room, and an energy that couldn't be contained. 

It had been years since I had Misty in my room.  She was one of those throw away kids who spent her time being shuffled around to relatives. My heart ached for her.  Worldly, streetwise, and mature beyond her 5 years, she wanted nothing more than to be loved.  Unfortunately, at times she was anything but lovable. But love her I did. Through a year of ups and downs, break-throughs followed by trips to the office, she learned about expected school behavior.  I learned about patience and loving unconditionally.  She learned to read.  I learned that sometimes life gets in the way of learning. She learned to trust me. I learned to admire her resilience. And then our time together was over. I checked in on her as she made her way through the grades in our school.  I'd remind her I loved her and I knew what a good kid she was.  She would tell me how many days it had been since she was last sent to the office. The last time I saw her, she was moving to the Middle School. She no longer wore her hair in a ponytail.  Her bright smile had faded; the boundless energy gone.  I reminded her that I loved her and we said our goodbyes.

The family had finished their meal and Misty's look-alike ran ahead of the group.  Her mother called her back. Then quietly they disappeared around the corner.

Yes, it's the neediest ones who stay with you.