What did you say?!

This is a fun and exciting week at preschool. I ask the four year and five olds if they can read,and they all say, "NO!" I show them that they can all read their names. They agree. I spell M-O-M and they all tell me what I spelled. They get excited when I tell them I know they can read more words. I hold up a McDonalds logo with the word, and they all shout, "McDonalds!" Then I hold up a Taco Bell bag with the words/logo and they giddily shout, "Taco Bell." So we continue. I have a rebus story. That is, there are symbols or pictures with the words below. They 'read' each picture as I tell the story of a little Native American boy. Some of the symbols are arrow, tree, water, fish, horse, deer, berries. They then draw the symbols on large paper and we wrap it around the tee-pee frame which sits in the middle of the floor. Two children are allowed inside to look at books about Native Americans. I have a large narrow box with two cardboard paddles that serves as a canoe for two children, and I have costumes, beads and coffee-can tom-toms for them to play with. They also have a table where they can play with small manipulative themed toys: stuffed buffalo, horses, dolls, etc. There are an abundance of photos on the walls at eye level for them to look at and discuss. November is a fun month for me as well as them. I get many laughs. Yesterday after we pounded out the syllables in each child's name, I heard a little girl expanding on the lesson. She knelt over a tom-tom and rhythmically sang and pounded the syllables. "Hap-py Birth-day to you...you be-long in a zoo, with the el-e-phants and mon-keys who look just like you." She was so intent on counting the measured beats, all I could do was laugh to myself. Nothing ranks higher though, than the year that I was showing photos of Native Americans and one child said, "My daddy is a NAKED American too." I smiled and nodded. I could never look at her daddy again without visualizing.

I just submitted an essay to AARP. They were seeking essays on Why I Have The Dream Job. If it gets rejected, I will post it on my blog.

TGIF

Saturday afternoon, doors and windows wide open, crisp fall breeze; kitchen scrubbed clean. Sauerkraut, new potatoes and sausage simmering, bread warming, a big fat streussel-topped raspberry-chocolate chunk muffin to share for dessert.

Rain this morning detered hubby and me (but not our eight year old grandson and his team) from the soccer game. We drove onto the parking lot as the black cloud let loose and drenched everyone. We smiled and waved hello and good-bye.

Yesterday was every teacher's dream; I received three unexpected gifts. First, my little boy with a developmental delay and physical condition, reached up (the bones in his arms are fused and he doesn't have rotation) and hugged me. He has a happy, round face, and he's always pleasant and cooperative. He said, "Awww, you so CUUUUUTE, Miss Linda." I hugged him and laughed which made him laugh. We repeated this about five times. Then a little girl came in and she and her mom gave me a package of (locally produced) chococlate-dipped Dad's Scotch-Oatmeal cookies. Indescribably delicious. Another little girl gave me a lovely necklace. Three wonderful and unexpected surprises, and do you know what? I liked the first one best of all.

Just when I was thinking TGIF, God showed me I had a lot to be thankful for!

Hairy school performance

Almost all of the two hundred chairs were filled. Last night was Family Night for my 3&4 year old classes, and they did so well at their Spring Sing. I checked myself in the mirror before going on. No food in my teeth, my hair was reasonably styled even if that one monkey-ear kept poking out like a prairie dog from its hole. No slip showing, necklace laying straight. Ready! Set! Action! The palm recorders were rolling.

Oh yes, a few kids fidgeted, one little girl played with the blue velvet curtain on stage, a boy bounced like Tigger, two had to leave to go potty, and one girl cried and held her ear, so I dismissed her. Ear ache or panic, in either case, she wasn't going to perform.
Each child spoke into the microphone and introduced him/herself. My little boy with a developmental condition held the mic a bit too long and belted out an impromptu song instead of his name, which brought the house down.

The kids did very well. They sang, recited poems and fingerplays, came up with creative responses about how to get a dinosaur through a door that was too small, and they walked across the balance beam.

As my coworker readied the stage with props for The Three Brown Bears, I saw it. I was mortified. It was nothing like the holiday performance when a little boy lost his pants when he was jumping up and down. It was far worse.

I need reading glasses. They are magnifiers to the 'umpth degree'. I don't know why I didn't remove them when I was finished reading. But if you've been following my blog lately, you know that I'm slipping a bit. If only my glasses had slipped off my nose. I gazed down at my feet, at my open-toed shoes. I looked out into the audience to see if anyone else had seen what I had just seen. Nobody was watching me, no camera lenses or fingers pointed at me, as I imagined. There on my big toes were four wild black hairs sproinging every which way! I had nipped the ones on my lip and clipped that stray thing that grows out of my nose like a weed after a rainy day. But on my TOES! I'd never seen that before, and I shave my legs everyday.

I stood like an embarrassed child shuffling her feet, trying to retract those turtle head toes back into my patent leathers.

Every young girl gets the 'talk' before puberty about womanhood, but nobody explains the crop of wild hairs that take residence once you pass GO. Have I had these fuzzy toes all this while? Were you all too polite to point it out? My razor has been put to the test. Ladies don't just look in the mirror, look down.

How many is too many?

This weekend was very relaxing. Usually on Saturday mornings I am raring to go to yard sales, but after two previous weeks of disappointing sales and a quarter tank of expended gasoline, I changed my mind. Hubby left early to help grandson build a deck. The house was so quiet, I stayed in my jammies and read all morning. It was one of life's simple pleasures.

You'd think I'd have been tired of being in my PJs for two days straight. We celebrated feelings week at preschool with a pajama party during school time. I wore my white Mickey Mouse print, one piece, button down the front, flannel pajamas, pink cuffs at the neck, wrist and ankles. (Maybe it was a million Minnies, not Mickeys wearing pink hats.) The kids laughed themselves silly when they saw me. (Sorry, no photos forthcoming.)

I got a good laugh last week. One of the little boys was in the play house possessively holding the door closed. A group of girls wanted in. One of the girls said, "If you let ME come in I will be your princess wife, and you can be the handsome prince." With that, he flung his mouth and the door wide open, fluttered his eyes, greeted her with a goofy grin and allowed her to enter. One by one, the other four girls came up and forced themselves in, some declaring themselves princesses and others just wives. That Fisher-Price Playhouse was so cramped, and he was getting more frustrated with each new resident. Finally he threw his arms in the air and said, "Okay-okay, five wife-es is too much!" Of course, the girls did what all wives do when their husband-prince talks nonsense, they ignored him.