LJ Idol Week 5: Oubaitori

When I walked into that room for the first time, their little faces mirrored my own terrified expression. They didn’t know me, and I didn’t know what I was doing there. One little boy named Owen started screaming as soon as he looked at me. He had to be ushered from the room and comforted, I scared him that much. Truth be told, they scared me too, but I couldn't cry and be ushered from the room - I had a job to do.

The others stared at me with wide eyes.

What the hell are you doing, Kristen? You have no idea how to teach these kids.

I have teaching experience, don’t get me wrong. I was a substitute teacher for a bit back in Missouri, but that was over a decade ago, and those kids were older. I had recent experience teaching English to adults, but there was no comparison.

There were ten little ones there that day, all between the ages of two and three. Not a single one of them spoke English, they barely speak their own language at that age. One boy, Isaac, the tiniest of my students kept repeating “Maman et papa?” as he stared up at me with big eyes. My French is intermediate at best, and coming from the mouths of toddlers, it was even more difficult to understand them, but I could make out that he was asking for his parents. That was about all I could make out from any of them.

How am I going to communicate with them?!?.

The director of the school was with me that day, but she had other tasks to attend to like keeping Owen from screaming every time he looked at my face or I looked at him.

I knew nothing of how schooling is done here in France. I learned a lot of new words, such as doudou which made me laugh because to me, that’s slang for poop, but to these kids, it’s their lovie or stuffie . Doudous are serious business, as I learned after they were taken away by my assistant and I had a room full of heartbroken toddlers.

The kids were expected to eat off real plates with real silverware. When my assistant served them beets for their starter, I laughed to myself. No toddler is going to eat beets. They surprised me, every one of them ate their beets. In France, they serve several courses including a starter, main course and a dessert which is usually fruit or yogurt. Then they have gouter later, before going home, which is a snack their parents pack for them.

 

This was all new to me. I loved this age group, but I had never been in charge of ten toddlers at once. When they weren't eating, it was hard to keep their attention for long.

Matthew was constantly screaming because he just wanted to build a perfectly square tower out of the Legos and the other kids kept knocking it down or stealing them.

Amelia constantly wanted my attention and was running in the classroom and literally trying to climb the walls.

Nicholas was calling for me from the bathroom as Lenore was once again stealing Matthew’s Legos and making him scream.

Ella was mad that it wasn’t time for gouter and letting everyone in the building know about it.

I felt like the entire world could hear my classroom, and that they were judging me for it.

That first day was rough, I’m not going to lie. It was a long day, and I had to walk home in the rain, which only made things more miserable. Everything on me hurt and I couldn't move that evening, I plopped on the couch, ate dinner and could barely keep my eyes open.

I told my husband, “I don’t think I can do this. This is the hardest job I’ve ever had. The kids don’t understand me, so I can’t teach them. I have no idea how to get through to them, they just run around and cry and I feel like I’m being pulled in a hundred directions.”

But then I remembered Eloise, a taller-than-average three year old with light blonde hair and big blue eyes. I was warned that Eloise was difficult. Yet, I didn’t find her difficult. Yes, she cried a lot, but she's three and missing her parents, she had some big feels. But she loved hugs and her doudou. She didn’t speak English, but she actually understood some of what I was saying. I’d speak to her in English and she could answer me in French, usually a simple “Oui” or “Non”. She sat near me when I was on the floor, and she started smiling and laughing. Everyone was surprised - Eloise is happy? She’s always crying. Not with me.

And I also remembered when we joined the other classroom for songs at the end of the day, Matthew and Ella both had to stand right next to me, leaning into me, cuddling against me.

They’re so precious.

I decided to not give up that easily.

On my second day, I had a real, legit assistant. She didn’t speak English, but she was good at her job. Owen screamed as soon as he saw my face, but my assistant calmed him down. By the middle of the day, Owen was fine as long as I didn’t look directly at him or touch him or even come within arms length of him. We could be in the same room together. That was an improvement.

But something changed after naptime. Amelia rushed over and hugged me. She was happy to see me. Amelia is always happy to see me, unlike Owen, she wants to be near me always.

But then Owen saw this and ran over and hugged me too. He hugged me! Amelia hugged me again, so Owen hugged me a second time! I couldn’t believe it. He went from screaming every time he saw me to hugging me, within a matter of hours. It was a miracle.

That day was hard, but an improvement on the first. I came home with stories of the kids, smiling as I recounted my day but still exclaiming, “This is hard, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

I was learning right alongside them. Everything I knew about teaching was thrown out the window, and I had to figure it out as I went along.

On the third day, we were joining another class for morning activities, and Owen refused to go into the room. He screamed every time he looked at the other teacher’s face.

I knelt down next to him and said, “Rester avec moi?” I’m not even sure it's correct French, but I was telling him that he could stay with me. He nodded his head and took my hand in his, and together we walked into the classroom. He got a special seat right next to me, so we could face the scary new teacher together. 

 

He likes me, I thought to myself in surprise. No, more importantly, he trusts me. 

 

As the weeks went on, I got to know each of the kids. 

 

When Lenore arrived in the morning, she would always be sleepy so I gave her a cushion to lie down in a quiet corner.

Eloise loves bunnies so as soon as she walked in, I would hand her the bunny toy and she would instantly smile. As long as she had that bunny, she was a happy camper. 

 

Amelia ran and climbed the walls because she wanted all of my attention. I gave it to her in other ways instead of scolding her. I learned she really liked The Lion King, and we'd sing I Just Can't Wait to be King together. She taught me how to sing parts of it in French.

Matthew liked to pick on Ella because he was jealous if she wanted to play with other kids. He’d get super frustrated and scream and throw things. One day when he was clearly more frustrated than usual, I asked him, in English, what was wrong. He told me in French that he missed his mom. 

 

“You’ll see her soon, I promise.” And I asked if he’d like a hug. 

 

Through his tears, he nodded and fell into my arms. 

 

He went back to playing with his Legos and before long, Ella joined him and they played well together. He just needed a friend. He needed kindness instead of scolding.

 

Isaac and Emmanuel knew each other outside of school, and Isaac learned how to tell me, “C’est Emmanuel!” while pointing to him. I asked, “Is he your friend?” and Isaac, my sweetest, happiest student, smiled widely and said, “Oui!” We'd have this same conversation every few minutes, but at least he was saying more than just "Maman et papa?" More importantly, we understood each other at last.

 

Emmanuel had been so quiet the first few classes, but by the third class, he started responding to me in English. He was pretty advanced for one of my younger students, and he started showing off. He’d bring me things and tell me the word in English with a proud grin on his face. Before long, Isaac was also bringing me fire engines and cars and telling me the words in English. They both loved hearing “Good job!” Emmanuel brought over the toy bus and showed me the wipers, moving them back and forth and said, “Swish, swish, swish,” a reference to the line in The Wheels on the Bus. 

Oh. My. God. 

He’s amazing. 

They’re all amazing. 

I still felt like I had no idea what I was doing, but everyone around me told me, “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.” This was new for me. I’m so used to struggling at jobs, being told that I’m not doing things right. It comes with the territory when you’re neurodivergent, and it has led to a lot of anxiety in my life. I never feel like what I’m doing is good enough. I never feel like I'm good enough.

 

The director told me that she recently talked to all the parents. “They love you,” she told me. “The kids love you.” 

 

But how? I have no idea what I’m doing. 

 

I often feel like since I can't be like Ms. Rachel or like the other teachers at the school, that I can't be a good teacher. I’m not overly cheerful or silly. I’m more calm and laid back. I'm positive and encouraging, but silly? Not overly so. 

 

Then one day I was talking to a friend about my anxieties and she pointed out to me, “You don’t have to be like Ms. Rachel, or anyone else. You just have to be you and if it works, it works."

Does it work though? I have asked myself that question a lot.

 

When the director asked me if I would be coming back for the new school year, I wasn’t sure at first.

One of these days, they’re going to see how much of a failure you really are… And then what? 

Then I remember how Owen came to trust me, and how I witnessed Isaac learning his first English words. I think about how Matthew struggles with his feelings, but I got through to him. I think about Eloise and her bunnies, and how she laughed so hard when I taught her Little Bunny Foo Foo.

Or that one day while doing the Hokey Pokey, I made a tired old person sound. Amelia copied me and laughed. So I did it again. Before long, the entire class joined in and we just made tired, old person sounds together and I don't think I've ever heard kids laugh as much as they did that day.

When I told my husband that I had doubts about going back, he was surprised. I was shocked at his surprise. Didn't he see me struggling every day with self-doubt? No, he saw how happy I was after every class, telling him about my day and not being able to stop talking about the kids.

We are a month away from the start of the school year, and I have my answer.

 

Yes, absolutely yes, I will be back. 

 

I miss my kids. 

 

Many of them will move on to the next class, they aged out of mine, but I’ll still see them and I can’t wait. 

 

Isaac, Owen and Emmanuel should be back in my classroom, and I smile every time I think about seeing them again, along with all the new students that I’ll be meeting for the first time. 

 

It won’t be easy with a new class. I started toward the end of the school year before, the kids had months of work getting used to the classroom rules before I took over. It won't be like that this time, it'll be harder. Many of these kids have never been in school before or away from their parents for the entire day. They are only two, after all. Many will cry, and I’ll have to learn what works best for them while not speaking the same language as them. I know I need more structure than before, more activities. I have to plan all of this out and I still have no idea what I’m doing. 

But that’s okay. 

I’ll adapt. I’ll learn with the children. I’ll figure out what they need, how they learn best. I’ll comfort them and guide them. 

And I will get better at this because these kids are freaking amazing, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I've found my purpose.

We will learn together. 



(All kid's names and identifying characteristics have been changed for their privacy.)