Beyond the Morning Hug

There was a little girl from Grade 3 who came to me every single morning without fail. She would wish me “Good morning, Ma’am,” and wrap her tiny arms around me in the warmest hug. One day, when I gently asked her why she hugged me every day, her answer melted my heart. She said, “Ma’am, you are always warm… like Mom. I feel good and safe when I hug you.”

To my embarrassment, I realized I didn’t even know her name. In a school filled with so many bright little faces, I had somehow missed learning hers. When she found out, she was visibly disappointed. “Ma’am doesn’t know my name,” she said softly. That stayed with me.

From that day on, along with her morning hug, she would always ask, “Ma’am, what’s my name?” She wanted to make sure she wasn’t just another child in the crowd — that she wasn’t forgotten among so many learners. This went on for nearly two to three weeks. Every single day, the same ritual. The same hug. The same gentle reminder.

And then something shifted in me.

On the days she was busy or didn’t come looking for me, I found myself searching for her instead. I would walk down the corridor, call out her name loudly and clearly, and greet her with the biggest smile. The first time I did that, her face lit up in a way I will never forget. In that moment, she knew — truly knew — that I remembered her.

Almost a month later, she came up to me again, hugged me tightly, and said with the proudest smile, “Ma’am, see… now you remember my name. I feel so happy!”

What she didn’t realize was that she had taught me something far greater. In her innocent, persistent way, she reminded me that every child wants to be seen, known, and remembered. And sometimes, all it takes is saying their name — loud and clear — to make them feel they truly belong.

- Vishwa Patel
Director at The Northshtar School