A Home for a Boy... Friday, January 18

Ironically enough, just after I had sat down at lunch time today, to jot down a quick homepage entry for today, I found myself becoming my own contradiction and scrapping what I had initially written down.  Originally, I started today's homepage entry off with sarcastic reasons why I shouldn't have a kid, as evident in my behaviours revealed via floor hockey coaching.  

REASON #1

When picking who'd be on my team, I deliberately didn't pick the pretty girl because I figured she'd act all cute, shy and be afraid of the ball... I didn't want any girlie-girls on my team.

REASON #2

An opposing team member squealed like a pig when she got hit in the leg and I was more concerned about this meaning I couldn't play anymore -- had to keep the team numbers even.

REASON #3

When my teammate got hit by a ball and dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes I urged her to get up because she was our goalie and I feared the other team scoring.

REASON #4

I told a girl she wouldn't want to use the green hockey stick because it was bent at the bottom -- that bend in the blade was my doing and it's my favourite stick.

REASON #5

I cheated at rock-paper-scissors so that my team wouldn't have to wear the dirty, ugly yellow pinnies. 

On the flipside, I may be a brutal parent but I think I'm a pretty great coach.

• I do some basic drill exercises to make sure they've got the fundamentals down first.
• I do try hard to divide the teams fairly.
• Despite thinking many of their team names are silly, I always go along with them, like Team Cat-Paul.
• I always learn the names of the players on my team so I can call them out and cheer them on.
• I always make an effort to give props to the opposing team when they make a good play.
• I never go in for a goal.
• Everyone gets a good old "bum pat" by me during intermission time.
• I make both teams high-five and say "good game" to each other after every game.
• During meal times, I always run up to the previously-played teams, shout out their team name and high five them.

I've never been much for babies and always was for adoption as opposed to having my own but I've never wanted a family beyond that of Snickers and my four-legged friends.  Today, however, I got word of something pertaining to a student of mine and it really shook me up.  I even envisioned myself taking this kid home as my own!!!

It was after lunch when my assistant approached me to talk about the parent picnic planned for tomorrow.  As routine, the parents are to come to the university, bring a picnic dinner to share with their child and then after the picnic they have one-to-one interviews with us teachers.  

"B will be eating with you.  He has no parents" she told me.

Naturally my curiosity lead me to ask her to explain and as she did, I started to regret even asking.

My student 'B' doesn't have any parents because he's never met his parents; they gave him up.  He's a 12 year old orphan that lives in an orphanage.  Being that he's 12, I instantly felt burdened with the harsh reality that his chances of being adopted now are so much slimmer.  He's no longer a cute little butter ball baby that wiggles and giggles when you tickle him.  Instead, he's a slender preteen that is somewhat awkward but he tries hard to be a really good boy.  I had noted to my assistant the other day that in class I feel like he watches me like a hawk.  It's almost like he watches me for my approval and for my reaction.  It all makes sense now though and, because of this realization, I seriously struggled the rest of the day.  

As he sat by me, writing in his diary, I struggled to stop looking at him, stop thinking about him but the harder I tried, the harder I couldn't.  Finally, when my eyes started to swell up with tears and one student noticed, I had to excuse myself and go outside and breath.  I'm anticipating tomorrow's parent-picnic to be hard to get through.  I'm not even sure if his classmates know about his situation but I know the other teachers don't know.

Long after that situation was over and Snickers and I were then driving back to Cheonan together, I brought up B's situation and got choked up again.  "I wish I could just take him home... he deserves a family like everyone else!" I told Snickers.  "Yes, but you can't just take him home.  He's not a puppy." Snickers joked.  I appreciated him trying to cheer me up but a part of me really wished I could just take him home, call him my own.  And with that, tonight was the first time I've ever wanted a child, not 'my' child (my own flesh and blood) but an adopted child to be my child.