I’ve come to the end of my first week as a pre-school teacher and some of you out there may be wondering how I did. So am I, especially since, when I come home exhausted, collapse on the couch and complain to OC about my day, he rolls on the floor laughing. I wonder why I never noticed that sadistic streak in him earlier?
I know my Zoo-Phonics. I can count to 20. I know how to sit criss-cross applesauce and I understand the playground rules. I have not hit, bitten, pinched, scratched or kicked anyone. The only concept I have a little trouble with is naptime. It seems that the children are supposed to sleep, not me. Alas.
I have discovered that our 3-4 year old students aren’t familiar with chiffon skirts. I often heard the word, “soft” before small hands would disappear beneath my clothing. Yulp! One young man mistook my full circle denim skirt for a tent and spent the day trying to climb under it. When I return to work on Monday I will have a new wardrobe — sans skirts.
Lunch at a table full of small children is an adventure in self-control. Mikey loves peaches. He saw them on his lunch plate and got so excited he couldn’t get the one on the end of his fork to his mouth — so he grabbed it with his hand; but peaches are slippery little things and it squished from his fingers and stuck to my butt [chiffon skirt]. Mikey snatched it off and ate it anyway. I stuck to everything I touched for the rest of the day.
I had five kids to supervise at hand-washing. Four kids lined up. Chez ran across the room and yelled, “You can’t catch me!” I ignored him and squirted soap on the first kid’s hands. Chez ran past me and yelled, “You can’t catch me!” I ignored him and squirted soap on the second kid’s hands. Chez passed by me again and yelled, “You can’t catch me!” I ignored him and squirted soap on the third kid’s hands. Chez ran up and stopped about five feet away. He yelled, “You. Can’t. Catch. Me!” I ignored him and squirted soap on the fourth kid’s hands. Chez ran to me and smacked me on the leg. I caught him and washed his hands.
Friday I read to the kids during story hour. Afterward K.K. approached. I turned the book toward him anticipating his interest. He ignored the book, wrapped his little arms around my neck and tucked his head under my chin. “Mine,” he said.
So, I guess I did all right, huh?