AS far as I can remember, I?ve always hated kids. They?re bound to be noisy, rowdy, all over the place, and prone to petty fights. And so I dreaded the thought that, for my preschool teaching practicum, I had to be around these dreaded creatures for an entire semester to teach them music.

Predictably enough, I had yelled at them within the first few weeks. Specifically when we were supposed to play a passing game, where the children were to have one round wooden stick each. But since the key to our instrument cabinet was missing that day, I decided to substitute the sticks with colored pens. I honestly did not foresee the chaos that would erupt from such a decision.

?Teacher, I want the red one!?

?Teacher, I want violet!?

?Teacher, the green one is mine!?

?Blue! Give me blue!?

And no matter how many times I told them that we were to pass the pens around anyway so they shouldn?t bother picking colors, they kept insisting on their color of choice until my patience ran out. Some kids even started drawing on the floor and sucking on the markers. Needless to say, our passing game never materialized.

Whether it was me adjusting to the class or the kids warming up to me, I?m not sure. But the following teaching sessions were a lot more manageable.

I learned to appreciate the way each of them thought. Once I photocopied a drawing of a Metro aide for them to color. The picture was that of a boy, of course, since male images are more unisex than female ones.

As they were coloring silently, one of my students suddenly told on his classmate, Mikhaila, for turning the drawing into a girl. I walked over to their table to see what it was all about and almost laughed at what I saw.

Over the Metro aide?s pants, Mikhaila had drawn a huge balloon skirt with a violet crayon. And in place of his hat and short hair were long, wavy, feminine locks. I assured the boy who told on her that it was okay, and that they could do anything they wanted with their drawings.

To be honest, I actually appreciated what she did. It showed that she thought outside the box, already had her own set of ideas, and wasn?t afraid to stick to them.

I also had this other student named Aaron who sang rather loudly, but could never seem to do it in tune. So for our graded culminating activity, I assigned him to play one of the hand bells. Preschool children still haven?t developed the ability to multi-task, you see, and they can only do one thing at a time. So I gave him the hand bell knowing it would leave him too preoccupied to sing along with his other classmates (which could possibly lower my grade).

But he proved to be quite adept at playing the instrument, and was able to anticipate all my cues with accuracy and ease--as compared to other kids his age who were still either too stiff, too jerky, or too slow to respond to my quick, successive instructions. From that I learned that different children have different strengths, even within an already specialized field such as music. So you should never base your assessment of them according to one skill only, such as singing.

In due time, I also developed a rapport with my young students. I learned to make them laugh and make my lessons as creative and fun for them as possible, until I myself was having fun. And as unbelievable as it may sound, we actually started to like each other.

Every time I arrived, they would excitedly go, ?TEACHER CAAAAAAAT!!!!? and then one by one start to hug me, until I almost lost my balance because I?d have around 20 kids attached to my legs! And they would stay like that, like a bunch of starfish glued to a coral, until their class teacher managed to pull them away.

And before I noticed it, I started referring to them as ?my kids? whenever I talked about them to other people.

?Oh! I almost forgot! I?m supposed to make costume sketches for my kids today.?

?My kids are doing fine. They already know their culminating song by heart. They know it so well, they get bored every time we practice it.?

And when our culminating program was over:

?Finally! I can?t believe we?re done with our practicum! I?m really going to miss my kids, though.?

Perhaps the most memorable moment of my teaching practicum was the time I was sitting on the teacher?s chair, waiting for my students to return to their respective seats. I was too preoccupied running my lesson plan through my head that I didn?t notice little Mikhaila walking up to me.

?I love you, Teacher Cat,? she said out of the blue, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

Surprised out of my task-oriented, professional mode, I managed to smile back.

To me, our weekly classes were just academic requirements I had to fulfill to pass a major subject. To my kids, it was so much more than that. And in time I was able to see things their way and to simply relish the experience. Children may be little devils who run around when they?re supposed to be sitting down, throw tantrums, get into fights, and cry over a red crayon, or get their sticky, chocolate-covered hands all over your white sweater.

But then again, it really isn?t that hard to fall in love with them?because they?re always eager to fall in love with you first. ?

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