September 2003 Issue - Essay # 4
The
Itsy Bitsy Spider
By
Tiffany Lynn Martin
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“Is
every Thursday Pudding Day?” I asked my co-worker Rachel with fear.
“Oh
no, don’t worry, Tiff.” Rachel laughed.
“Most of the times they have crackers or fruit.” Armed
with a full container of wipes, I began to wash off little
pudding-plastered paws, chubby chocolate cheeks, and messy mouths, leaving
one more toddler to clean. I
stood in front of him in shock; I did not know it was possible to get
pudding so smothered on his cheeks, blushing in his eyelashes, blending in
his eyebrows, up his nose, and in both ears.
“Keagan, how did you get pudding in your ears?
It’s all over you!” Satisfied by the velvety chocolate, and the
fact that I was scared of him, Keagan laughed. I
have been the afternoon toddler teacher at a daycare for over a year.
My duties are to take care of and entertain the toddlers.
My job is challenging because I am dealing with little people who
are going through their “terrible twos,” so there is no way to reason
with them, but I consider it the most precious experience I could have.
One of the reasons why my job is precious is Keagan. Keagan
is the most dynamic, yet misunderstood person I have ever known.
The entire daycare staff warned me about him during my first couple
of days. They told me that he
had a very bad temper, and he was constantly mean to the other kids by
taking their toys away from them, bothering them, and getting very close
to them in order to deliberately annoy them.
Teachers struggled with him because he gave them a hard time; he
hardly ever listened or followed directions. They told me he was often
distracted and could not pay attention to one particular thing for very
long. His parents also found
similar qualities about him at home. After
being with Keagan for three months, I realized that most of what the
teachers said about him was right. He
constantly bothered his friends, only did what he wanted to do, and was
often distracted. He often had
outbursts that consisted of screaming that sounded like someone was
violently hurting him, and he would hit and kick toys.
The outbursts lasted a substantial amount of time.
It is suiting that the name “Keagan” means “fiery.” Determined
to make his life better, I tried to spend more time with Keagan doing his
favorite activities. For
instance, to wake him up, I played the Itsy Bitsy Spider on his back with
my fingers; everyday we played cars and trucks together; I let him go on
the computer for a longer amount of time than I did before; after I
changed his diaper, I would give him a piggy-back ride back to our room,
yet even with the extra time and effort, he still gave me a hard time.
He continued to bother the other toddlers and ignored my
directions. I
was beginning to give up on Keagan, thinking maybe it was just a stage
that he would grow out of eventually.
Instead of spending more time with him, I began trying to give him
space. Then I started to
notice that Keagan is smarter than most two-year-olds.
He has a way of looking at you that makes you think he knows what
you are thinking. One day I
came into work after just having a fight with my ex-boyfriend.
My eyes were not red, my cheeks were not wet, but my heart was
broken. The moment Keagan saw
me walk into the room, he came up to me without saying a word and gave me
a long hug. It was uncanny;
none of my observant coworkers had asked me if I was having a bad day.
One teacher thought that he might be gifted because he laughed at
things teachers said to each other that a two-year-old should not
understand. The
day I fell in love with Keagan was the day I saw him break down. When I
woke him up, he would not let me do the Itsy Bitsy Spider song on his back--he kept rolling over, so I could not touch him.
He did not go near any of his friends or other teachers.
Not one word or sound came out of his mouth.
He did not go near the toys; he just stayed on his cot.
I started taking the toddlers one at a time to the changing room.
When it was Keagan’s turn, he would not hold my hand, he just
slowly and quietly went to the room. When
we got there he froze solid. His arms hung low, his feet and legs were
perfectly straight, and he did not make a sound.
The chill spread over to my body; I had never seen him or any other
toddler hold that stance. I
bent down so I could get to his eye level and watched his head slowly drop
towards his chest. Compassion
thawed out my arms. “Keagan,
are you ok?” I asked. His jaw shook and his big brown eyes tried to
squeeze the tears, but his eyes trembled.
His body did not move, but he began to cry.
I knew whatever was bothering him must have been horrible because
he remembered it even after his nap. I
picked him up, and rubbed his back. He
put his head on my shoulder and continued to cry.
His little chubby fingers curled around my shoulders so that I
would not be able to let him go if I tried.
“Keagan, it’s ok. Miss
Tiffy’s here now. I won’t
let anyone bother you. You’re
ok. You’re ok.
I’m here. I’m
here.” My heart broke for
his. Ever
since that day, Keagan and I have been very close.
When teachers commented on his bad behavior, I would defend him by
saying how well he behaved around me.
The rest of the staff could not believe that he was so well
behaved, so they would watch Keagan when he was with me to see for
themselves. They were shocked
to see him playing nicely by himself, with his friends, and listening to
me. I could not have been more
proud of him. He
made sure to say “please,” “thank you,” “welcome,” and
“sorry.” When I had to ask other children to say sorry to someone
else, Keagan would also go up to the victim and say sorry while giving
them a hug. His
true colors showed when I bit my tongue while we were eating snack
together. Sammy, another
toddler in my room, had his head on my legs while we were sitting at the
table eating Wheat Thins for snack. He
quickly jumped out of his seat screaming, “A square!
A square!” Although
I was proud of Sammy for applying shapes to tangible objects, his head
bumped my chin very hard, and my tongue started to bleed.
I
said, “Ouch!” out of pure reaction. Keagan
jumped out his seat, leaving his snack, ran over to me and started to rub
my back asking, “Miss Tiffy ok? Miss
Tiffy ok?” My heart melted just looking at his little legs running over
to me. I asked for another teacher to watch my room while I got myself
ice. When
I got back to my room, the teacher said that Keagan looked down the
hallway the whole time I was gone wondering if I was ok, which shocked
her. I was happy to know the
other teachers were beginning to see him as a compassionate and special
little child, two of his true colors that I had been waiting for him to
show. Keagan
is scarlet red in the black and white of everyday life.
If someone were to ask me about my first teaching job twenty years
down the line, I am positive that the first memory that will grace my mind
is Keagan. He started out
being a challenge, and now he is part of my heart.
It is a cliché that a person never forgets their first love - if
that is true it would not be possible to forget him.
What I have learned from him will be implemented in the way I work
with my future students, so he will give to generations of future students
as well. It
is difficult for me to realize that Keagan most likely will not remember
me because he is so young, but I comfort myself by believing that maybe I
was his sun; I know through this past year he was mine. “The
itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout.
Down came the rain and washed the spider out.
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain.
And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.” |
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Author's Biography My
name is Tiffany Lynn Martin and I am from E-mai
Tiffany at Tiff4851@aol.com
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Essay
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