Who are you? Lilly. Lilly who? Lilly Vampire!

And she looked like one, too. A vampire. About 60 seconds earlier I ran into Ghoulia, whoever that is. She had blue hair. Daddy said it was from Monster High.

Whatever that is.

So I looked it up… actually her name was Goulia Yelps from Monster High’s Teenage Children of Legendary Monsters, and they take Creepariffic Classes…

Good grief I’m old!

Vampires I get… Goulia Yelps in Creepariffic classes? Then there were two brothers depicting Maurio and Luigi from Nintendo…

Lots of stuff to remind me that I’m from a time generations removed. And they usually show up about Halloween time when kids get to dress like their “heroes.” These kids didn’t know me from Adam but they loved showing off their costumes.

I found myself thinking about Beggar’s Night a year ago. A little girl was sitting on the curb waiting for the parade. As soon as she saw me she jumped up into my arms, almost knocking me over.

“Hi, sweety. Where’s your costume?”

She ignored my question, ran her finger over my nose and forehead. Laughed. And wiggled for me to put her down. A couple seconds later, she was sitting on the curb looking at the kids wandering around in their costumes. I was the furthest thing from her mind.

I looked at her family – two generations of them – and they were grinning. One waved and said “Hi, Bob.” I didn’t have to say I had been a sub in her class… they figured it out.

Greenville, as with other schools, has classes for special kids. She was one. A sweet child; her verbal skills were limited, but she made up for it with her actions. Sometimes precious, sometimes challenging.

These children can offer their own special joys. I first met Julia Z, another special needs child, when she was in kindergarten. She was one of many, who with extra care and help, could grow into regular classes with the other children. She received it.

By the time she was in first grade, she was in a regular class, although for part of the day she still returned to a special needs class. I was volunteering one day and dropped in on the class to see the teacher.

When Julia saw me she got up and gave my kneecaps a hug. I was surprised as she’d never done that before. Then five other children got up from their chairs and came over to give me a hug.

I looked at the teacher, her mouth open with surprise.

“Something really special just happened,” she said quietly. “These children have never done that before.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there, giving a group hug to six kids who had wrapped their arms around my knees. One-by-one they returned to their chairs… Julia was last; she sat down with a half smile on her face and returned to her work.

These and other memories flooded this 69-year-old brain as I ran into kids I knew this weekend from my two years subbing… Most of them said, “Mr. Robinson! You were my teacher…”

One child didn’t say a word… she just came over and hugged my kneecaps. Not to be outdone, her friends did the same. I remembered her; not sure I remembered them.

The last time I saw Julia she was in the lunch line. Some of her classmates remembered me from last year… “Mr. Robinson!” They weren’t supposed to talk in line. Several came over for a hug or high five… they weren’t supposed to leave the line. I hugged and high-fived back and sent them back to the line.

Not Julia. She just smiled and waved. She knew what she should and should not be doing.

Special kids often lead to special memories.

Published courtesy of The Early Bird