A fellow Kindergarten teacher compared our experience thus far in teaching Kindergarten to "herding cats." I can't imagine herding cats, but it sounds near impossible, (I live with a 3 month old kitten) which is how I'm feeling about my job much of the time lately.
I started out the school year last Wednesday expecting kids comparable to my students from last year. I will never do that again!
You know, I hate to have a negative attitude, but it's really easy for me to, but I must say... today, I laughed at the chaos and absurdity that fills my tiny classroom daily. Sometimes that's all you can do. Luckily I have peers at the same grade level who are experiencing the same insanity that I am, including a child who desires to be called "marshmallow," a child who fled the building and ran home during class, and a child who removes his pants or shirt and breakdances on a regular basis. This is our "norm." When I was in Kindergarten, I remember coloring, pasting, singing, and, of course, napping. (My favorite :)
Many of the things we are asked to do on a daily basis are completely impossible, and making a trip to the bathroom (I am the only one of 3 kindergarten classrooms without my own classroom bathroom OR air conditioning) in less than 30 minutes roundtrip is the goal for the week. And by the end of the year... they will be reading (presumably.)
Now my students last year, most of them, WERE reading by the end of the year. But they also were not floating out of line and blending in with another class by the second week of school. :)
Today, I decided to let these students try playtime (including play-doh, lacing cards, puzzles, etc.), hoping to be pleasantly surprised. I was not.
My new student today provided me with the unique challenge of sacrificing my hand to hold onto his so that he wouldn't get lost. He protested. "Let go of me," he said. "No, I will not let go of you, because you will run off and get lost," I said. "I no get lost. I no get lost. Let go of me," he pleaded. I didn't give in though, asking him "Is it really that bad to hold my hand?" He claimed it wasn't, but still wanted me to let him go. It was cute though. Then, back in the classroom, we did playtime, and he drifted around the room from activity to activity, never quite settling on one, and constantly checking in to see what I was doing. I can compare him to a curious little kitten, except he can talk. In ten minutes he had said "I turstee" (I'm thirsty) approximately 11 times, to which each time I responded, "It's almost time to go home, I don't have anything for you to drink right here." "You don't have pop?" he asked me!!! When it was cleanup time, I announced the play-doh needed to be not mixed (which wasn't an issue last year), and everything needed to be neatly cleaned up. The other children were busy tidying up my classroom, as he began chasing another child around the tiny area (running.) I called him to me and asked him "What did I just ask you to do?" He thought and responded to me, "Run!" I said, "No, that's what you were doing, but not what I asked you to do." "Oh," he said, "you told us to walk." As I was explaining to him that it was cleanup time, he prepared an obnoxious sneeze just in time for him to not be able to cover his mouth, in turn sneezing all over himself, and all over my dress. I leaned my head on the cabinet behind me and giggled. (What else was I going to do?) as he said "Sowwie!" and then I quickly ran to get him a kleenex to remove the snot all over his little face.
Taxing as it may seem, I can tell this child is my "project." I already have children humorously "labeled" in my mind... I've got my drama queen, my diva, my sweet little obedient yet curious boy who responds with "I'm sorry Miss Bentley" whenever he is corrected, my little guy who must hug me every 15 minutes, my crazy parents (and grandparents), and my kids who will be astronauts, presidents, and CEOs one day.
In closing, my principal has requested that we all post the high school graduation year of our classes in our rooms. I balked at this at first, but I find myself admiring the idea of teaching my little 5 year olds that in the year 2023, they will be 18 years old, holding a diploma, and walking across a stage, bridging the gap between childhood and adulthood... even though, today, when I ask them what year it is, they respond enthusiastically, "TUESDAY!"
:)
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