Guarding my heart

Day 1: He came to me, draped in a dark sweatshirt, hoodie up. His eyes wouldn't meet mine. He slunk past me to his desk, and immediately pulled out the enormous Harry Potter book he had brought with him. Without looking up, he buried himself in it. He drew on himself the entire day, put his feet up on his desk, and scowled at me. If I gave directions to the whole class, he defied me in front of them. When it came time for gym, he sat on his desk to put his shoes on. He couldn't tie them. He awkwardly made loops, the strings slipping out of his grip. He argued and glared, loudly asking when it was time to go home.

Day 2: He showed me his spiked hair. His hood was off, and he flashed a broken smile when I told him I liked his spiked hair. He raised his hand once. His 800 page book sat on his desk. Any spare moment, he snatched it up, set it on his lap, and put his head on his desk. From where I stood, it appeared like he had his head down on his desk, rebellious. But I smirked when I saw that he was reading under there... "rebellious"

When they hear his story, they tell me,
"Guard your heart. He could be gone any day."
"Be careful, don't get too attached."

But it's getting to be too late.

Day 3: Our eyes meet across the room. I smile at him and wish him good morning. He lowers his gaze and mumbles a good morning. Throughout the day, I glance over to where he sits. He is watching me. He cracks a few smiles as I tell my infamous preying mantis story. He raises his hand a few more times. He tells me the seventh continent is Antarctica. He tells me that we need to capitalize the beginning of the sentence. Before lunch, he lets me put my arm around him as I direct him out the door, since he's hanging back, wanting to read more at his desk. Before recess he calls my name. I turn, and he is holding his hand up. "High five." He says it quietly, but expectantly. Our hands meet, and the corner of his mouth turns upward into a smile.

I know they told me to guard my heart. I know they told me to watch myself from giving so much to this child, so I won't be broken when he leaves. But I won't. Because if I guard my heart, if I hold back from loving this child for fear that he will walk out of my life as suddenly as he walked into it, I will not give him what he needs. He needs affirmation. He needs to know that he is valuable, and that others see him, recognize him, and care about him. He needs to know love. 

Day 4: I wrote him a note, telling him about the things he is doing well. He found it in math. For the rest of the lesson he clutched the note. One hand holding the note, the other holding the pencil as he works on the place value assignment. He gave me a few more high fives. After the bell rang, we were heading in the same direction. I asked how he liked it here. He smiled shyly and told me it was "alright here." 

I know he has a long way to go. I expect he will have good days and bad days. I know it's only the first week of school. I know that it's a long road to fifth grade. I know. I know I won't reverse ten years of damage in a week. But I know I can start. I can do my part. 

C.S. Lewis said it best when he said, 

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

I have a choice. To guard my heart, or to love freely. I'm choosing to love, even in the face of the risk of being broken.