Chair Massage
I have subbed in George's first grade classroom several times. As is often the case in the early grades, this teacher has set aside a time of the day to read aloud to her students. It's almost always a Boxcar Children adventure, right at the end of the day.
From the first day I was in her classroom and every time since, each time I sit in the rocker to read out loud, the kids swarm around the chair begging me to let them scratch my back. I was initially shocked and responded perhaps too adamantly when I said, "No. Thank you." From the look on the one girl's face, I realized she needed further explanation and I went on to share that I really don't enjoy having my back scratched. She then happily sat at my feet and rubbed my leg the entire time I read.
I'll admit, it was disconcerting.
You see, people don't touch me. I have a 12 year old boy who was never much of a snuggler. Every now and then he'll take a hug, or will sit on the opposite end of the couch, but all in all, we could go several days without really touching. Other than the very occasional hug by a friend, or a familiar student, that's about all the physical contact I have in my life.
Today, on about the tenth time of being in her classroom, I gave up the battle of trying to fight these kids off during the read aloud. If I've explained it once, I've explained it each and every time I'm there that no, I really don't need to have my back scratched and yes, I know she even has a special back scratcher thingy for that exact purpose. Today, I just let them be.
And I had five sets of little hands rubbing my arms, my shoulders, one was even playing with my hair until I just had to ask her (very nicely) to please stop.
And as delighted as they all were, I have to admit how difficult it was for me. I had goosebumps the entire time. It was the strangest feeling. Almost creepy.
Two things are clear: One: It's been way too long since someone touched me, even in the most casual of ways. Two: I have to figure out how to wear six layers of clothing before Thursday, when I'm back in George's touchy-feely classroom.
From the first day I was in her classroom and every time since, each time I sit in the rocker to read out loud, the kids swarm around the chair begging me to let them scratch my back. I was initially shocked and responded perhaps too adamantly when I said, "No. Thank you." From the look on the one girl's face, I realized she needed further explanation and I went on to share that I really don't enjoy having my back scratched. She then happily sat at my feet and rubbed my leg the entire time I read.
I'll admit, it was disconcerting.
You see, people don't touch me. I have a 12 year old boy who was never much of a snuggler. Every now and then he'll take a hug, or will sit on the opposite end of the couch, but all in all, we could go several days without really touching. Other than the very occasional hug by a friend, or a familiar student, that's about all the physical contact I have in my life.
Today, on about the tenth time of being in her classroom, I gave up the battle of trying to fight these kids off during the read aloud. If I've explained it once, I've explained it each and every time I'm there that no, I really don't need to have my back scratched and yes, I know she even has a special back scratcher thingy for that exact purpose. Today, I just let them be.
And I had five sets of little hands rubbing my arms, my shoulders, one was even playing with my hair until I just had to ask her (very nicely) to please stop.
And as delighted as they all were, I have to admit how difficult it was for me. I had goosebumps the entire time. It was the strangest feeling. Almost creepy.
Two things are clear: One: It's been way too long since someone touched me, even in the most casual of ways. Two: I have to figure out how to wear six layers of clothing before Thursday, when I'm back in George's touchy-feely classroom.
Comments
Seriously. WHAT?
Both of my kids are totally snuggly with me. But otherwise, I'm with you...I'm not much of a hugger or incidental toucher. And the son? He would DIE before he touched a teacher. D.I.E.
My girl hugs her teacher but I think I would get a bit wigged out if I found out she was all playing with her hair and scratching her back.