A Little Drawing That Means So Much

As a teacher for little ones I'm used to being handed, rather proudly may I add, drawings on a regular basis. Sometimes those drawings are of the weather, often times they picture one of my little students as a stick figure, more often than not they picture me. They're usually handed to me in the proudest of ways, with a flourish so that their classmates can see that they have artistically drawn their teacher. The resemblance can be uncanny, although sometimes I wonder if I really do look like a blob with glasses.

One of my favourites has to be this one - me in ant form. I don't think I posses the vocabulary to really express my feelings on this one.

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However there's one little drawing of me that is really quite special.

At the beginning of October I began working at a Primary School, there was a little boy aged six who joined my class. He walked into my class arms crossed, a huge frown upon his little face, his messy blonde hair only making his expression more comical, exclaiming that not only did he hate English and school but he also hated me.

Oh dear.

We clashed on many things, from him having to finish off work, to me not allowing him to draw on the black board whenever he wanted. I tried my best not to nag him as I didn't want him to feel singled out but he tried equally hard to wind me up the wrong way, always seeking out opportunities to be doing something he shouldn't. He stubbornly sat right at the back of the class, next to no one and refused to move any closer to the board.

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Six year olds are pretty smart, they're really good at testing boundaries. They could make even the most level headed of people pull their hair out screaming WHY DO THEY ACT LIKE THIS? (In the privacy of their own home of course.)

I'd had a few minor break throughs with this little boy last week, he finished his work and joined in on a singing and dancing activity. (He usually opted to sit out, arms crossed huffing and sighing as we pranced around the classroom.)

Then, on Friday, very quietly, when the other students were working away, he hesitantly came up to me and timidly pressed a folder piece of paper into my hands. He then looked down at his own hands and back up at me before breaking eye contact. I opened the paper to find a drawing of a person.

a special drawing

"Who is this?" I asked him

"It's you" he replied shyly before I could say anything he was hurrying back to his little chair dragging it noisely to sit closer to his little desk.

With a tear in my eye, I quietly popped the drawing into my handbag, smiled at him and continued on with the lesson, only to see a little blonde haired boy at the back of the room beaming right back at me.