There are no Hugs!

One thing about elementary school students that is endearing, or at least should be I guess, is that they are very touchy feely. They will rest their heads on your shoulder when you are sitting at a desk doing a demonstration; they will tap you if they need to get your attention to tell you something; and worst of all, they will try to hug you.

Once when my first year of teaching was rolling along and the students became more comfortable with me, a strange habit would form among certain classes. As the students were coming into my room, before they would take their seats many of them decided that it was appropriate to give me a quick hug. Many teachers would think this practice was fine. It was not.

In this day and age, it’s not a good idea for teachers and students to touch no matter what the circumstance, especially male teachers. This was the least of my worries as I was being hugged before each class.

My biggest worry came with winter. With winter comes cold season, and with that comes snot. Runny noses. Disease. During this time I quickly realized that I could no longer tolerate the hugs.

Because I did not want to be rude to the six-year-old’s face by saying, “I don’t want your gross hugs. Please don’t touch me,” I had to quickly devise a plan for the hug emergency to stop. There was the option of standing at my desk as the students entered and found their seats. This was not effective as I often had confidential information passed to me from another teacher or a parent at the start of the class. I could have the students take their seats as quickly as I could like some kind of contest. This game would get old quickly, so I had to devise a different plan.

Finally, I had the brilliant idea to just hold something in my hand. A sharpened pencil. That way if the students were to try to hug me, they would impale themselves. I would hold it down low to the ground close to where the hugs would be coming at me. This plan only worked for a number of days before students would not see the sharpened pencil in my hand, and I would have to quickly remove it at the last second.

So that plan didn’t work, but I was onto something with the holding something idea. On the chalk tray in my room was a dowel rod that was about three feet long that I would sometimes use as a pointer. There was my answer. I would hold the dowel rod out in front of me using both hands so that physically the students could not reach me to hug me. Victory! The plan worked perfectly. The students would enter my class, see that a hug was not possible for that day and then take their seats. Occasionally, a student would wait for a few moments seeing if there were some way to get around the obstacle, and I would have to abruptly say, “NO! No hugs today. You have to find your seat.” They would, and the crisis of snot touching my clothing was averted.