Habits

(Third grader teaching me how to make a trick paper airplane)

Every few weeks, the kids at the elementary school I work at manage to come up with new habits. It might be that every other kid on the primary playground wants to show me their cartwheel or bridge for days on end. It might be that they want to play tag, that they want to see how loudly they can yell, that they want to hang on the monkey bars the longest or have me watch while they play chicken. 

I've gone through weeks of playing tetherball - which I am terrible at - listening to songs, watching dances, or having the same children on each arm day in and day out. 

Two weeks ago, the boys (Kinder all the way through 5th) seemed to be testing a theory that, if you ran up to give Ms. Jessica a hug directly before/after doing something forbidden, you wouldn't get in trouble. 

Sorry; doesn't work. 

They gave that one up after about three days. 

The newest trick seems to involve presenting me with anyone who has had a chance to move back to school. And, yes, I do mean presenting, the way that you would present someone with a trophy or an award or perhaps a new puppy. 

Today, I was pounced/hugged by a third grade boy who had drug over two girls purely to make sure that I knew that one of them was back from Mexico. After he had made the announcement, he sent them away with that regal tone that only a nine-year-old could be sassy enough and bold enough to quite pull off. 

Mainly it made me smile because of how much it echoed a situation with the older kids. 

I am only on the 4th/5th playground every other Wednesday and Thursday, but the kids almost always seem to know when to look for me. (That they keep track of it when I can barely do so, is more than a little impressive.)

Two Wednesdays ago, I walked around the corner at the beginning of recess to find a tight knot of fourth graders up against the wall. Typically, not a good sign. No crush of bodies running over to give me a hug or tell me a story all at the same time, which is also very not normal for this class of kids who always seem to be trying to fit two weeks worth of everything into a single recess. 

"Ms. Jessica!" One of the girls waved me over with that tone of voice that is reserved for situations in which she thinks that I need to intervene right now. 

Oh, joy. Thirty seconds into recess is not a promising start to the day.

And, then, goofy grins all around, they part the circle to reveal a kid who moved out of town early this fall. They had been hiding him until I got close enough that it would have been impossible to miss his presence. 

"Are you happy," one of the girls asks me, eyes as bright as if they had just offered me a perfect Christmas gift, "that _____ is back?"

Yes. Always. And, the fact that you all worked together to make it a surprise is pretty stinking adorable. My kids are sweet. Sometimes. 

Three minutes later, they were pulling him to the ground and getting themselves in trouble for being generally cruel - in the way that only children can be when they are trying to establish a new/old pecking order. 

Sometimes, not so sweet. 

They're working on it. Some habits, like self control and kindness and responsibility are harder to build than others, and better at it doesn't always mean good at it. (If I got paid for every time one of those three virtues came out of my mouth when talking to kids, I could be quite well off.)

"Can you choose to be responsible?"

"Self control with your body."

"Kind words with your mouth."

"Thank you for doing that. That was very kind/responsible."

"Can you keep control of your mouth?"

"Thank you. Making responsible choices is how you grow up to be a good man/woman." 

One of the second graders recently asked me, while bent over to help a friend clean up a mess (the responsible choice), "I'm growing up, aren't I?"

Yes, kiddo. Yes, you are. There's a long ways to go still, but plenty of time to get there. And, so far, I'm pretty stinking proud of you,