Recent Thoughts

Recently, I’ve encountered certain feelings that I cannot properly articulate. How do we convey through mere words the attachment we develop from being within one another’s presence?
In my case, I work with children. I teach them life skills, change their diapers, ensure they eat well, so on and so forth. These children are on the spectrum in varying degrees, so my work is generally one-on-one so that the procedure is specially designed for their individual needs. I work with them just about everyday until they are deemed adequate to be on their own or if I’m moved to a different client. Therein lies the rub. I ought to be professional about my work and leave my emotions aside. However, it’s quite difficult to completely remove oneself of these persistent feelings.
What spurred this on was one of the interactions I had with my last client. He and I were at odds during our initial meetings, with him reacting aggressively because I did not appease his wishes to be sent home. Eventually, we were able to find methods that would better quell his violent impulses without having to constantly remove him from classrooms.
As with anyone who spends extended periods of time with eachother, we bonded. Often, people in my field forget that these children require guidance as opposed to an obsequious placation or hostile castigation. They avoid or yell at or overcompensate because my industry has awful standards, which are often overstepped or underperformed. I chose the route of speaking to him like the teenager he is, telling him when harassment shouldn’t be overlooked, praising him when he utilizes the anger management methods we’ve gone over countless times. We talked about school, video games, movies, life, and everything else in between.
One day, I received news from the district regarding his status; he was being moved to a different school, one in which could provide better services for his conditions. His parents talked it over with him, and even though he didn’t necessarily agree, he understood he’d have better long-term prospects at this school.
From this spawned a poignant dialogue during our final week together. He got into fight with another student, after having shown so much progress in his self-restraint. When we spoke about the incident, he told me that none of it mattered. I asked him as to why he believed this to be the case. He told me, “It doesn’t matter because you’re not going be there, you’re not gonna see me grow up.”
I was stunned. In that quiet moment, a million thoughts quickly ran through my mind. I thought about my first kid, how he used to hug the back of my leg when strangers were at the clinic. My second kid and I would talk about the ongoings of his homelife during breakfast. My third cried when being changed and chanted when we blew bubbles. And I thought to myself something that distinguishes my profession from a person of relation; these kids will never know how much I care for them. They’re going to have to notice it themselves, but it’s never to be made explicit. It pains me knowing that I can’t be there for them in the future, that I won’t be able to see them as adults and know that they’re alright.
I find myself pondering their fates, wondering if they’ve eaten their vegetables or that they’ve remembered to wash their hands. I want so badly for them to do well in their own right. Perhaps it is my vanity that speaks, but I do hope that they’ve taken the important parts of our sessions and imparted them into their lives. Although I would like to believe they remember me, I find the former taking priority. It saddens me that they’ll likely forget our time together, but I just want for them to be okay. That much would be enough for me.