My child development class went to observe the childcare facility at my school, and the classroom that I was assigned to had a very shy and potentially troubled young boy, who the teachers seemed to ignore and let do his own thing. While I probably should have taken a cue from the "teachers" (I have a hard time with someone who calls herself Miss Ann or Miss Julie being called a teacher, a title I associate with respect and authroity. That may be the way I was raised, though. I did not grow up in the touchy-feely-use-your-wor ds era of today.) However, with this boy I decided to try and talk to him about the drawings he was making of Superman and Batman, which were very talented, by age standards. He glared at me and turned away, covering his work. I think he was a little self-conscious by the fact that 9 college students were staring at him. I felt like I had done something wrong, and at the same time, I felt angry. I wanted to find his mother and ask her why she raised her child to be so fearful and lonely. Obviously he wasn't getting enough love. My heart felt rent by this poor lonely child, in whom I recognized much of myself. I wanted to coddle him and tell him how much he was loved and how special he was. Of course I made no attempt to. His initial reaction told me, "Back off, you don't know me." So in true animal instinct, I recognized a more formidable opponent and backed off. And what do I know, really? Who am I to make judgenments about what he needs or how he's raised? I'm a young woman full of idealism and starry-eyed morality. I know nothing about this child. And all the same, the maternal instinct turned on, and I'm left with the feeling that I want to nurture someone. I guess I'll go home and take care of my sick mother...