“Can you come help my friend Mrs. Bush?”  Sure, thinking someone had fallen and needed some help.  After all, it’s recess with 100 first graders with three adults to watch them.  Chances are I miss someone once in a while.  However, it wasn’t someone who had fallen, it was someone who was afraid they would fall.  Way up high on the monkey bars was this tiny, curly headed blond who wanted to try to do it by herself IF a grown-up was close to help just in case.  It had been awhile, but I vaguely remembered having to catch my own kids on occasion on some kind of playground equipment, so I stood in front of her with my arms out.

“No Mrs. Bush, I don’t want you to help me.  I want to try it myself.  But could you stand right there?”.  No problem.  It was her first time trying and, as she is one of my smallest 1st graders, I could see why she would be nervous.  Her other little friends were encouraging her with their words and cheering her on while she bravely looked at the first bar.  She grabbed it with one hand, then both hands.  Then she let go with one hand to reach for the next bar.  “Swing your body and reach” I encouraged, right before she let go and reached for me instead.

Now, I’m pretty well padded, but I wasn’t expecting the full weight of this child.  The next thing I know, her hand is in my armpit, her chin is imbedded in my chest and I’m trying to grab her before she falls to the ground.  Well, apparently this didn’t hurt her as she walked off with a smile.  “Thanks Mrs. Bush!” and she ran off with her friends, probably so she could hurt another unsuspecting adult.  I had forgotten how heavy a child can be and let’s face it – the last time I had to do that I was in my twenties or thirties.  It’s somehow not as easy as I remembered and all that padding I mentioned didn’t stop the pain one bit.

That’s the way kids look at adults however – as indestructible.  We can do anything and have all the answers. We’re there to care for and protect them, to encourage and validate them.  We give hugs, set boundaries, tie shoes, apply band-aids and reassure them that they will be ok.  We help them to consider various strategies to handle adversity in their lives, even if the adversity is a first time on the monkey bars.

There’s a lot of trust there.  This little girl trusted that I would find a way to catch her.  I’m not her mom or her family.  I see her in my class every 4-5 days for 50 minutes at a time during the school year and yet she trusted me to keep her from falling.  They may fight you, but little ones want and need someone to trust who will be consistent, firm but kind and listen to them.  It’s basically quality time they want from any adult, someone who will let them know they matter and will catch them when they fall.

So, was my little friend successful?  Not this time, but now she knows there will be an adult there for her until she is.  And next time maybe I’ll be better prepared when she says “catch me Mrs. Bush!”.