As an itinerant science coach, observational skills, keen intuition, and a practiced execution are musts if I’m going to go through my day avoiding what is the bane of the early-childhood classroom teacher: The dreaded hug avalanche.
Preparation is key. I know I’m about to leave the classroom, but it’s crucial the students don’t. They’re watching for a sign, any kind of sign. Me saying, “See ya later” to the classroom teacher, a hurried glance at the clock followed by a flinch, and even a contented sigh as I end a lesson: All of these and more can trigger the event. Five-, six-, and even seven-year old students are sitting on the carpet or at their desk, living coiled springs ready to slip the bounds that normally hold them in place.
A smooth exit is also important. A forgotten coffee cup or phone? All could be lost. No hesitation: start to move and don’t look back. Don’t forget the follow through, because a door left open is an invitation for disaster.
During my last class of the day, today, I failed miserably.
The students knew it was time. The lesson had clearly ended when iPads were collected, but not all was yet lost. The classroom teacher had launched into the next activity with perfect timing, and the situation was still under control. It was me. It was my fault. I paused at the door, giving a glance back into the room as if to silently say goodbye.
The first student–a smallish girl who sat by the door–seized upon the opportunity, jumped from her chair, and pushed past my iPad cart to hug my leg.
“Good bye, Mr. Gels!” she cried.
No, not that. Anything but that. In the name of all that’s good and orderly, please don’t verbalize a good bye. But, she did.
From the back of the room, the second student sprung. The classroom teacher’s gaze momentarily off of him, he knew it was now or never. Pushing classmates aside, he lunged through the room to grab my other leg.
“Good bye!”
I know that fear was starting to show in my eyes. Weakness. Those kids ate it up. The veneer of conformity was breaking down before me. A third student, followed by a fourth and a fifth, made a move in my direction as I was peeling the first two from the lower half of my body.
With a panicked expression, the classroom teacher did her best to make up for my shortcomings.
“Boys and girls, please take your seats! Mr. Gels needs to go to another classroom!”
Oh, all was lost, and it was all my fault. One glance, just one glance, and the world was collapsing around me.
Nearly every student was on his or her feet, flowing toward the door, mindless in their desire to be a part of what was going on.
“Boys and girls! Guys and Gals! Please, go ahead and take a seat!” I blurted, hoping to stem the tide.
And.
And it did, just a bit. The tumult started to calm, and some of the students paused, unsure of their next move.
To paraphrase the ancient rock philosophers of the band Lynyrd Skynyrd, that was the break I was looking for.
Peeling the last student from my waist and (carefully) pushing the door closed behind me, I was free, standing in the now-quiet hallway, the teacher’s voice ringing through the heavy wooden barrier.
What’s that noise? Oh no, another class has just rounded the corner and I think they saw me!
Yet There is Method 
Its amazing the memorable impact you are making on these students! Its adorable how they ran up to you and hugged goodbye! Such sweet students!
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Kinders really are some great little people, and I love working with them!
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Your description and internal thoughts brought me right into your moment. And what a great moment. Nothing like Kindergarten!!
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They are definitely in a league of their own, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!
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Oh, It is nice to be loved! As a past, and only occasional, substitute teacher in Kindergarten classrooms, I feel for you! I also visited classrooms weekly to collect a fraction of their students as a Writer’s Circle volunteer teacher. They reacted like they had not seen me in years! Then, the students grow up, get into higher grades, and cringe when they see you coming. Hugs are better! By far!
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I definitely prefer the hugs of the younger grades!
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Yes!
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This is hilarious! I know the feeling, I have about 800 students in 2 elementary buildings….and I am also not a hugger. Nothing like hugs during cold and flu season!
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Despite my story, I don’t necessarily mind the hugs, but I do my best not to disrupt classes when I can. The cold and flu thing…um, yea!
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Oh, how this made me laugh. A few years back, between the library and middle school gigs, I taught ESL. I had one class of kindergarten a day. Really, just a small group, but it was the hardest part of my day. But, oh, the love. You captured them perfectly.
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For the most part, all they know how to do is be loving. I wish it would never change.
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I really enjoyed this, very funny. You completely captured the atmosphere when the guest or “pop in teacher” leaves the classroom. Avalanche is a great way to describe that moment. It can also happen in the hallways, on the playground, Walmart……
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Walmart, indeed! I love the look on the face of a parent when their kid reacts to seeing a teacher–priceless!
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As a Kindergarten teacher of 20+ years, I’ve experienced a few of those hug avalanches. Take it as a compliment!
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Oh, believe me, I do! I love it, but I really do my best to not be disruptive.
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“Hug Avalanche” is a great way to describe kindergarteners! So much love they have to give and once you say goodbye then one student starts the hug and it has a ripple effect!
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Ripple…tidal wave…same thing!
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I also visit classrooms throughout my day and feel like an unearned celebrity at times. As a former classroom teacher, I am careful to be respectful of the space and time. I never take for granted the welcomes and the chorused, “Thank you’s” at the end of the lesson. Is this my life? Thanks for sharing!
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“Respectful of the space and time” hits the nail on the head–yes! Thank you for reading and commenting. 🙂
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