Guardian Angles

The one aspect I hadn’t considered when taking on a student-teaching placement at the primary level was the need to serve as a guardian of sorts for these children. And it’s one of the most fulfilling aspects of the role.

I have tied no less than two dozen pairs of shoes. They know not that I never really learned to tie my own properly. My knots will hold until the child leaves my class, but how much longer is anyone’s guess.

I help them put on their art shirts. It’s like dressing a doll. They offer little support with the task.

I scrub their hands in mine because it’s more efficient. Otherwise, they’ll rinse their soiled puppy paws with no endgame. I attempt to wipe paint off their face. When I fail to complete the job, leaving trace color smudged on their nose and cheek, I tell them it’s a badge of honor. “You look like an artist. It looks cool. You’re a warrior.”

I had a child throw up on me. But for some reason, I embraced the occurrence and delighted in escorting him by hand to the nurse, wiping his trail as we traveled.

I’ve fixed glue bottle after glue bottle after glue bottle. “It doesn’t work, Mr. Johnson.”

Why hasn’t Elmer’s Glue—after nearly 80 years in existence—manufactured a bottle that doesn’t film over with dried glue blocking its aperture? I learned early on that the best tactic was to rip the sheath off with my incisors. Why hadn’t these children? I showed them how, after repeated failed attempts to scratch it off with my fingernails.

When they see me extract the glue with my teeth and ptooey it from my mouth, they shriek, “Ewww!”

But sticking their finger in their mouth after drilling their nostril seems practical and unconcerning.

I’m unfazed when I call on them after asking the difference between a shape and a form, and they matter-of-factly tell me they went to the Zoo over the weekend.

I high-five them in the hallways. I wrench my back to sit eye level with them in lilliputian chairs, and always accept their unsolicited hugs without issue.

Mostly, though, I cherish the moments when they raise their hands, patiently waiting for me to notice. Then, upon my arrival, they look up into my promising eyes and ask, “Can you help me?”