I suppose I should consider it a blessing to work with all the teens I've encountered as a childcare counselor...
But if I were to say that's how I felt... I'd be lying.
Some kids are nightmares to work with. These are the kids who make you appreciate your days off. These are the kids who usually make for great stories after the smoke has cleared, figuratively or literally. These are the kids that make other people intrigued when you tell them what you do.
Then there's those kids. The one's that fade away with time. It's sad to think, but there are dozens of kids I've worked with whose names and faces all blend together into one blobby conglomerate of general chaos.
And then, there are my kids. I think every staff has them, or maybe it's just me. But every now and then, I meet a kid who I just know I'll impact in some way. The kid you'd take home and make part of your family. The kid whose name you'll never forget, and not because they climbed up on the roof or smeared their poop all over the bathroom... The kid you love and somehow know they love you back.
That kid. I'm pretty sure I've referenced this phenomenon before.
And now, here I am. I once offered them something they now offer me, years later. I had a wonderful phone conversation with one of them just a few weeks ago, and I found this awesome post in my FB timeline from another kid today.
Of course, they're not really kids anymore.
Twenty-somethings.
Making me almost a thirty-something. Gulp. Almost... I digress...
But they're still my kids.
And they still bless me.
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