The Mauling

This morning I was mauled by six three year olds. It started when I was at home getting dressed for school. I have these long dangly silver earrings that I decided to wear to work and once I got to school every kid it the class wanted to touch them, but really, they don't end up touching them they end up touching all of my face and hair and glasses...
"Why you wear glasses?"
"I can never see you eyes!"
"You chewing gum?"
"I wanna see it!"
"Why you chewing gum?"
"What color is it?"
"Why you got them earrings?"
"Who gave them to you?"
"I wanna touch."

I was sitting in the "van" that we made out of large blocks with one child in my lap and the barrage happened so fast that I couldn't get up in time. By the time they were done I looked like I either just woke up or was, well, mauled by children as it were.

Then earlier i was sitting on the couch with the "I Love You Girl" when she grabbed my face in her hands and said "I love you!" and planted a kiss right on my lips. All I could do was think about the germs she was giving me but what was I gonna do? Nothing.

Yep. Mauled by children. It a good thing I like my job, because at the end of the day, I leave just as much a mess as they do.

Either...

I'm a narcoleptic or I've truly become "like father like daughter."

Let me explain. Ever since I started my new job (woo hoo new job) I feel like a racehorse going around the track for eight hours everyday. I. Don't. Stop. I can't stop. I'm not allowed to stop. I have to have eyes in the back of my head and Go-go Gadget arms. The thing is, so far I never feel tired at work, ever.

However, once I get myself home and I'm sitting in front of the TV or reading I book I have noticed a strange phenomenon. I fall asleep. I can fall asleep and be absolutely out in five minutes. I'm not talking about dozing on the couch either. I'm talking dead asleep.

I only know one other person like this. My father. I used to make so much fun of him growing up because without fail, once he came home from work he would fall asleep as soon as you put the TV on. It was impossible for him to stay awake if he was going to watch a show. Now, I'm doing the same thing. My roommate thinks this is pretty funny as it happens very often around her.

I'm not sure I'm amused....

Reaching the Heart of a Child

I've been at my new job for one month. I can't believe it's only been that long, because it feels longer than that. It's been great. Exhausting, but great. I'm so happy with where the Lord has placed me. I never would have pegged myself as a preschool teacher, but I dare say I almost feel like I was made to do this and doing so feels like putting on a comfortable glove. It just fits.

My interactions with the children are immediate and the bond that develops between myself as caregiver/teacher with children at this age is very strong for them. They are so little, only three or four and they hunger for love, attention and affection all day. Some are more needy than others and that's okay too.

There is one little girl there who I have to admit is so darling. She's a scrappy little thing. Not too skinny, not to fat. She starts out everyday looking clean and presentable but by the end of the day, she looks like a tornado. Her hair is a mess and her clothes are dirty. She has taken quite a shining to me and I must confess the feelings are mutual.

Anyway, we hadn't seen each other because the H1N1 was flying around our school and she was sick and then I was sick so I hadn't seen her in over a week.

So today, when I walked back into class and saw her she came barreling over to me at full force and threw her arms around me and for the first time ever she said to me "I love you." "Come and read to me." She said. So I walked over to the couch and sat down with her and began to read. She then interrupted me. "Hug me!" She demanded. So I hugged her. The whole time I read she made sure she was touching me. As I turned the pages she kept her little hand upon my hand. It was adorable.

Today we read books. Did arts and crafts. Did circle time and I read to them about a spider. We sang "The Mighty Duke of York". We had lunch where one little girl insisted that the core of my apple was in fact a pickle and we had a nap. (Well, not me, they did.) That was a typical first half of my morning.

Not bad.

Now if you'll excuse me, I hear these cookies calling my name....

Conversations with Children

There is one particular child on the playground that often comes looking for hugs and informs me of conversational facts:

"Teacher, This is called a sweatshirt. It sweats me." He told me that the other day. (It sure does.)

Also, I was told this:

"You smell like a popsicle!" Uh, I'm pretty sure that's a good thing?

Lastly, I was told this:

"Teacher! He pooped in his pants and I can smell it!" Said one little girl pointing to the little boy playing next to her who has frequent accidents. "Did you poop in your pants?" I asked him. He nodded shyly. (Oh brother.)

At Lunchtime: "My face is hungry." Says one little girl to the other.

Green Beans and Carrots

She hated eating her green beans and carrots. You know the frozen kind that's packaged with the word "Medley" on it? I never got that. Medley. Sounds like Melody, but it's not. It means it's a mix and in her case it was a mix of miserable vegetables.

That's all she remembered about dinnertime as a small child. Sitting on small red plastic chair at a small fold up table with pastel bears on it. She would be sitting there alone in the kitchen; paper napkin tucked under her chin, cold green beans and carrots and a now room temperature small glass of milk.

She was crying. She was only three, four at best and the rule was that she was not excused until she ate all her vegetables. It was a pathetic sight, I can only imagine.

Have you ever, as an adult, thought way back to when you were a child and felt sorry for your little self?

Every time I think about that memory, I do.

It's a wonder I wasn't permanently scarred from vegetables, but now I eat them with the voraciousness of a rabbit every day of my adult life.

One thing's for sure though, should I ever have children, I'm not gonna leave them at the dinner table to cry it out.

No. Their dessert stomach will just have to go...empty.

Little Whippersnappers

"Don't forget to remind me that I love you." That's what I was told today by one of my male students while he raised his eyebrows at me the whole time he said it. I wonder if he'll be as coy when I finding him doing something naughty out on the playground?

Mommies and Daddies and Babies Oh My!

Today I had the privilege of spending the morning shadowing a teacher at a preschool. We were out on the playground and one little boy seemed to take a liking to me. He was a chubby little kid who will for sure make an amazing linebacker someday.

We were hanging out by the slide when he informed me, "Babies come out of Mommies tummy's."
"Yeeesss." I said cautiously. "That's right, they do."
"Babies come out of Mommies tummy's." He said again in a very matter of fact sort of way.
"Yes, that's right." I replied.
"Well, are you a Mommy?" He asked thoughtfully.
"No, I'm not a Mommy." I said.
"How come you're not a Mommy?" He asked.
"Because I don't have a Daddy." Is what I wanted to say, but this is a public preschool, and a very liberal state where anything goes. So I decided to tell him... "Because, I'm just not."

He seemed satisfied with that.

(Phew.)