Hip but not the Hop

My last blog entry was about my first Tai Chi experience and I mentioned that I had also signed up for something else. Today was supposed to my first Hip Hop dance class. I was so psyched up for this class, even though I've been told that I don't really need it, but I signed up for it to see if I was doing the right moves (I certainly don't want to be a dancing version of William Hung) and to have exercise. Apparently, the original instructor couldn't teach it for one reason or another and then the community centre couldn't find someone qualified to teach it, so the class has been canceled. I'm so disappointed! I'm actually surprised that an instructor couldn't be found.

Recently, I've been kept quite busy with work, but at the same time, I'm reminded of why I love my job. First of all, I teach one PE class four days a week. Yesterday, I left work for about two hours to get an eye exam. When I returned to work, I kept my sunglasses on because the solution that was put in my eyes to dilate the pupils made my eyes really sensitive to light. My first class upon returning was PE and all my students huddled around me and chatted up with me, just because I was wearing my sunglasses. Two of my students said I was "hip." I laughed and the other students laughed, more at the fact that those students used the word "hip" even when it wasn't "hip" to say that word anymore. Just laughing and hanging out with the students, knowing that they feel comfortable enough around me, makes me feel so good inside.

Secondly, one of my autistic students is very astute and articulate, so it's not too hard to hold discussions with her despite her many other challenges. After a particularly difficult afternoon yesterday, we talked about her day in my office. I tried to get her to think of the good things she likes about school. She mentioned Movie Club and her best friend and woodworking. Then gently she put a finger on my nose and cried out, "You! I like you!" My heart just melted right there. Then my heart really turned into a puddle when she added, "If I could choose a mom, I would choose you."

Thirdly, today, a parent told me that her daughter said, "Ms. Chan is so cool. She comes to our basketball and volleyball games and she talks to us in the hallways. She's not even our teacher, but she seems so interested in us. Like she actually cares about us!" I thought that was so funny. Of course, I would care about them! I wouldn't be a teacher if I didn't care about these kids.

And finally, the best reminder was today; again it's a child's laugh; it's music to my ears. But this particular laugh that I'm thinking about is extra special because the laugh belongs to a student who is (selectively) mute. Ever since I first met her, we had an instant rapport with one another. She has spoken to me in more words in one class than she has to most of the other teachers in the three years she's been at the school. I'm certainly not the only one with whom she has a rapport, but I'm so privileged that she allowed me into her silent sphere. Today, she hid behind a door as I was walking out of my office and she jumped out to scare me. Indeed I jumped and that made her laugh. I semi-chased after her in the hallways and tickled her and she returned with tickles of her own (which is another amazing feat because she used to scream if another person touches her). She laughed all the way to the washroom where she went to hide from me and then I walked away to the main office. I went in to talk to the secretary and she said to me, "You know, I think that's the first time I heard that girl laugh." That comment made me realize how much my students have matured and how much they trust me.