Bubble Wrap

For the first time I really felt the protective desire it is to be a parent.

Now keep in mind I'm 26, engaged, and very not pregnant or currently the mother of any sort of child.

But I have 9 kids.

Each of them with their own story.

Their own horribly, beautifully, tragically, wonderfully, amazing story.

Each of them with their own learning deficits.

Their own inhibiting, creative, out of the box, frustratingly, unique deficit that allows them to see the world in a different way. A deficit that tests the limits and shows that students aren't meant to fit into the cookie cutter shapes of education that so wrongfully pierce the dough that are these learners.

As strong as each of my students tries to be, they are all, in some way fragile.

Fragile like the crystal vase you saw in the store that caused your mom to constantly remind you of how careful you needed be. The vase that, when taken out of the box filled with packing peanuts, was wrapped ever so carefully in bubble wrap.

Bubble wrap.

Sometimes I wish I could wrap my kids in bubble wrap. That way I could protect them from any outside force that would prevent them from breaking.

But I can't.

Like the vase, sometimes these kids will break and all I can do is be there to help pick up the pieces.