Bless Her Heart

Just before class this afternoon, I saw L, one of my kindergarten students, talking to her mom in the lobby. She looked like she was about to cry. When it came time for class to start and L still wasn't there, I sent S, another student in the class, to see if she was coming. S came back and reported that L was crying in the bathroom with her mom.

"Is she okay?" I asked.
"I think so." S replied.
"Is she sick?"
"She's sad."
"What happened?"
"I don't know."

Since I knew her mom was taking care of whatever the problem was, I continued with the class and figured I'd find out later. L came to the classroom about 10 minutes to the end of the class.

"Are you okay?" I asked.
She nodded but didn't look okay.
"Are you sick?" I asked.
She shook her head no.
"Are you sad?" S asked.
She nodded yes.

I let the kids go out the door. Since I had another class starting in just a couple minutes, I didn't go out to the lobby with the kids, but a minute later, I heard another teacher in the hallway ask "L, why are you crying?" so I went out to see what was going on.

L was just on the verge of tears, standing there in the hall with another teacher and L's mom. Her mom said that L had something to talk to me about with H-k, the director at my school.

L, H-k, and I went into H-k's office. L looked liked she was about to start bawling. H-k and I squatted down to her eye-level. H-k explained that just before class, L was in the classroom alone and saw a piece of candy on my desk and put it in her mouth. Her mom happened to be standing in the doorway and watched her take it. She took her out of the classroom and told her that she can't just take things that aren't hers and that it's a shameful thing to help yourself to other people's food.

L is a very sweet and sensitive little girl, and this apparently cut her to the core, hence the crying episode in the bathroom.

As H-k explained all this as the two of us squatted at L's eye-level in H-k's office, L lost all composure and these big tears poured down her sweet little face. She was barely able to mutter "I'm sorry." My eyes started to tear up, too, but I held it together because I didn't want her to misinterpret my empathy as anger or sadness with her. I gave her a hug, and she clung to me. "Don't worry," I said. "We're still friends, okay?" She nodded. I looked her in her eyes. "L," I said, "it's okay. I'm not angry. You," I said pointing to her, "and I," I said pointing to me, "are friends."

She didn't smile, but she did pull herself together. I gave her some cookies for her and her little brother, and she, H-k, and I walked out to her mom in the lobby.

"Don't worry," I said as she walked out the door.

"Okay," she whispered and walked down the hall holding her mom's hand.

God bless her.