Dormant seeds bear fruit!

So I was a middle school teacher for 3 years. There was a girl in my class who was a half-pint and she acted hardcore. She didn't like affection, rejected compliments, and just relished being sarcastic. She was a little tornado that could turn your class into a coup. I knew that she liked me because she never verbally attacked me or muttered under her breath at me or about me. That equals, "She aight."

I had her for two years and since I knew she didn't like affection, (Mind you, most kids don't...except from other middle schoolers.) I used to harass her back a little just for fun. It increased my respect quotient. I would randomly ask her for a hug. She'd stare me down. Then I would stand in the hall on duty when the kids arrived and when I saw her coming to her locker, I would stand and open my arms and say, "Courtney, give me a hug!" She would grit on me and keep walking. (I had her for two years and I did this for months. Eventually she was smiling as she walked away.) "You don't have to hug me, but I know you're smiling. I can hear it."

"Whatever."

"You love me. I'm your favorite teacher."

"Teachers are evil."

Courtney also didn't like to take pictures, deliberately not smiling and rolling those brown eyes. But Courtney was an anomaly. She had a little cutesy dog named Mr. Cuddles. Yes, I'm serious. I talked about Mr. Cuddles and she would tell me she was going to bring him to school to get me. "No, I'll get you and your little dog too!" I told her I'd turn him into a lab experiment. One day, she started calling me Mama Jones. I don't remember why. Then she had other kids calling me Mama Jones. I told her if I was her mama, I'd beat her. She laughed. On occasion I would sneak up on her and hug her or she would show me sympathy when everybody else gave me a hug and I would hug her and she would leave her arms hanging limply at her sides and growl. "Is this gonna get me an A?"

Monday around 2:30 I was at the Forest Hills T and as I was walking, texting people, I saw this half-pint that looked familiar. Courtney has not grown an inch. I walked through the double doors, and she saw me. What is she going to do? Ignore me probably. Courtney walked up to me and hugged me. "Hey Ms. Jones."
"Hi Courtney, don't you have somewhere to be?" She's still holding on. I'm waiting for lightning to strike or Ashtun Kutcher and the Punk'd staff to pop out.
"School's out."
"Is it going well? What grade?" She lets go.
"Yeah. 10th. Did you have an early day?"
"No, I don't work at YA anymore?"
"What? Nobody told me."
"I went back to school. You didn't Facebook me."
"Oh. I don't do Facebook."
"Just MySpace. Where are you going now?"
"Yeah. I'm going to work."
"Where do you work?"
"KFC on American Legion."
"Really? I'm coming. You better give me a hot drumstick."
"Okay." Laugh.
"Good to see you. Stay out of trouble."
"Okay." Courtney gives me another hug, unprompted.

Wow. This child and her friends made me earn my salary in so many ways for two years that I think the school district still owes me money. As a teacher, you need those kids to make you teach. I love them, I fight with them, I'm happy when summer comes, and I worry about them. Every year in June I feel like a pistol-whipped mission accomplished invisible magician, and I hope I fixed a little of what may have been broken and pray that I didn't break anything else in the process. Two years of nothing and two hugs in four minutes.

Let me correct that...On graduation day, Courtney gave all of us hugs and took a picture because "I'm never gonna see ya'll again."

If you can't tell by now, this made my week. It was only Monday. I call it fruit, and God does it taste good!