when i'm not whining about missing people, i've been doing a few other things. i've been teaching preschool at a nearby co-op, babysitting for strange children and going out on the occasional commercial audition.
last week, one of the kids told me he wanted to lick me.
this week, one of them showed me a booger, as if to hand it directly to me, and said, "this is a big booger."
today one of them called me a clown. how right he is.
sometimes i contemplate why i choose to work with children. not in the sense that i wonder what the heck i'm doing; more like, "why am i intrigued by these tiny people and why do they seem to implicitly understand me?" i know that i'm silly, i'm strange and i'm interesting to look at. i know that i have a good sense of what kind of energy a room holds and what is necessary to enhance or change it.
i like these little folks. they say crazy stuff (see above) and they are undeniably genuine. they can't be anyone else but themselves. i think maybe the older we get, the easier it is to forget. who we are, what we like, what makes us truly happy: a shape, a color, a song, a smile.
1 comment:
i feel the exact same way.
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