Introduction

The Little Girl Who Wanted a Hug

Corey Denos

She is tall for her years, with the long dark, gently curling hair and eyelashes I yearned for when I was her age. Her family is from Iraq, which she refers to as 'my country', and consists of her father, mother and three younger brothers. For the first several weeks at school beginning in September, she was just one of 24 new faces and names. Her name was hard for me to pronounce correctly. Her quiet nature made it difficult for me to determine how well she understood English and, at the same time, easy for me take care of the needs of other, more boisterous and disruptive students first. She became a special person to me one October morning when she brought a drawing to me. It had been done in pencil and showed five pairs of long figures facing each other. In each pair, one figure was shorter than the other and was apparently offering something to the taller one – a box tied with a bow, a small bunch of flowers, a heart ... 'Oh my!' I said. 'Please tell me about your picture.' 'It's about a little girl who wants a hug', she said quietly.

Since then she comes to talk to me almost every day. She is very polite, waiting until other children have finished telling me ... what happened to them last night, that they forgot to bring their lunch, could they go to the library to get a new book, who budged on the way into the building ... and then checking, 'I have something to tell you about. Is it okay if I tell you? ... Now? ... Is it okay now?' And then she tells me ...

You know what my mom does? She puts an egg in milk and makes me drink it and I do not want to. She says it's good. Is that true? Would you do that? If you say it's good then I like it. ... But why doesn't anyone else eat it? I don't see anyone else ... so I think it's wrong. When you put the egg in, it makes the milk yellow.

You know my mother doesn't speak English?

Well, when my mother talks on the phone she says 'I'll kill you'. It sort of scares me. But then I know she means 'I'll call you'. So I teach her, 'Say call not kill'. I teach her to say 'I'll call you'. Not 'I'll kill you'.

My mom wears a scarf. What do you think? (I think your mom is very pretty.) Oh. (Will you wear a scarf when you are older?) Yes.

I am teaching my little brother – letters and numbers and plusses and take aways. His teacher says he's lazy because he can't do anything. My dad tried to teach him but he still doesn't know anything. So I'm teaching him. If I teach him forever, he'll be the smartest boy in the world. So I guess I'll have to teach him forever.

When my mom and dad go to work I have to babysit. One time my baby brother woke up and he wanted my mom. And he cried. And I cried too because I tried everything. Then finally I put him on my back and he stopped.

When I'm babysitting we play school and I teach my brothers. My dad teaches letters and stuff, but I teach very important things. I teach how to behave so my dad won't get mad. I tell them that when my dad calls them to come, they should come. Sometimes they won't come when my dad wants ... and my mom too. But they come if I call. And they shouldn't hit and fight either. That's what I teach. What do you think?

(January 27) Did we have Christmas? Is it over? When was it? I saw Santa Claus. My uncle and me and my brothers saw him. We sat on his lap and he said what do you want for Christmas? I said a Barbie doll and my brothers said guns. You know, not real ones. Santa Claus said he would bring them but he didn't. Why didn't he come? (I don't know how to answer that question.) I think I can. I think he didn't know where my house is. What do you think? He should have asked where I lived.

I wish Jovan and Nathalie and Jasmine would like me. (But they don't?) No. (Why do you think?) Because I'm not the best? ... But Irma likes me. Would you do something for me? I brought these little toys and I want you to give them to the other kids. I think when you give things to other people it makes them happy. What do you think?

There's something you said that came true. Yesterday you said that tomorrow Irma and Paige would be my friends again ... and it's true! They are! How did you do that?

And so go our conversations ... as she daily gifts me with pieces from her life. It is clear that she thinks hard about what she's going to say ahead of time, and sometimes I have to struggle to figure out what she's really asking. But it seems to me that somewhere in almost every one of her conversations lies the basic question, 'Am I okay? I can see that I am different, but is where I belong and what I am, okay? What do you think?'

She is eight years old. According to provincially-given 'standards' she is 'not yet meeting expectations' in reading and writing and mathematics. She is seen by the Learning Assistance teacher and the ESL teacher, both of whom complain repeatedly – first, that she smells bad – and second, that she's not making any progress. In December she was given tests that showed she has Moderate Intellectual Disability. She has been waiting for resource room placement ever since. Several years ago her family became involved with social workers at Family Services who felt that the parents needed support in parenting and health issues. The two of her younger brothers who have started school have already had problems with aggressive behavior. Her father has had repeated problems with the police.

Two years have passed. Last year the family announced it was moving to Afghanistan and, within days, disappeared.

But she is still with me. I find the complexities of her situation painful to consider and beyond untangling. In the middle, however, is the clear beauty of the little girl – her burning desire to know herself, to make sense of the world, and to make whatever it is better. I am truly blessed to have known her. I look for her now in all of my students – and give them a hug.

While the difficulties faced by The Little Girl Who Wanted a Hug are overwhelming – learning English as a second language (ESL), an intellectual disability, an abusive father, poverty and more – she, along with Jake and Raminder and Surjeet and the others whose stories are told in this book, can be seen as representative of all students in all classrooms. She, like all children, is struggling to figure out who she is and to decide whether that is okay. She is struggling to become an active participant in her classroom community. She brings resources to her struggle; she knows she is a good babysitter and teacher of her younger brothers and sisters. She knows she is learning English well and she corrects her mom's English pronunciation. However, she is somewhat puzzled by school in this new country and she looks to her teacher for support – for some of the information she needs to...