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....
Monday, November 9, 2009
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....
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....
Saturday, October 24, 2009
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.
"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.
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.
Friday, October 9, 2009
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?
Thursday, September 24, 2009
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.)
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.)
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Bunny Suits and Twinkle Lights
When I was young we used to spend every Thanksgiving in Bucks County Pennsylvania. That was where my Uncle Bob and Aunt Anita used to live. I loved it out there. They lived in a ranch style house on an acre of land that had a little red barn shed in the back for the tractor and a horse farm next door.
The drive between New Jersey and Pennsylvania always seemed to take forever as a kid. So before we would leave my Aunt and Uncle's house at the end of the night, my mother would have the three of us kids change into our pajamas. We wore our bunny suits home. You know, the kind that have feet attached to them and the snap across the top? My little sister wore yellow, my brother wore blue and mine was purple.
I loved my bunny suit. It was warm, cozy and complete with a hole for my big toe to stick out because I grew too fast. I remember my brother had a hole in the top of his bunny suit too. I remember because I thought his toe was ugly.
So we would pile into our blue station wagon complete with our Black Labrador, Bonnie in the way back and head home. At this time of year though, we always made one special stop. There is this wonderful little place in Pennsylvania called Peddler's Village and from November through early January they would decorate the entire village with twinkle lights.
It has grown considerably throughout the years, but it still consists of winding cobblestone streets, charming merchant shops and a water mill. The very best part though was the holiday twinkle lights. Every shop, ever window, tree, and ridge pole of a roof was outlined in Christmas lights. It was stunning. I'm sure it still is.
So my parents would stop there on our way home and because it was Thanksgiving night, the place was virtually empty. We would have the entire little village to ourselves. The best part about it was that my parents let us roam around in our pajamas and no shoes because of our bunny feet. As a little kid I can't convey how thrilling the experience was to freely run around the town in nothing by my pajamas and maybe my jacket if it was extra cold.
There would be Christmas music piped out through the loudspeakers and I would run to the little toy store that was lit up and press my face against the glass and stare in at the porcelain dolls and look at them longingly.
My sister and I would skip and shriek with excitement and run to the gazebo to see the gingerbread house display and salivate over the prettiest ones. My parents would walk behind us hand in hand and eventually get lost behind a tree for a moment or two before stepping back out to join us.
Maybe someday I'll have the privlidge of going back there to visit that wonderful place with the twinkle lights, but it won't be quite the same without that bunny suit. ;)
Please check out this website. and click on the pictures as it explains everything attached to my memory...
The drive between New Jersey and Pennsylvania always seemed to take forever as a kid. So before we would leave my Aunt and Uncle's house at the end of the night, my mother would have the three of us kids change into our pajamas. We wore our bunny suits home. You know, the kind that have feet attached to them and the snap across the top? My little sister wore yellow, my brother wore blue and mine was purple.
I loved my bunny suit. It was warm, cozy and complete with a hole for my big toe to stick out because I grew too fast. I remember my brother had a hole in the top of his bunny suit too. I remember because I thought his toe was ugly.
So we would pile into our blue station wagon complete with our Black Labrador, Bonnie in the way back and head home. At this time of year though, we always made one special stop. There is this wonderful little place in Pennsylvania called Peddler's Village and from November through early January they would decorate the entire village with twinkle lights.
It has grown considerably throughout the years, but it still consists of winding cobblestone streets, charming merchant shops and a water mill. The very best part though was the holiday twinkle lights. Every shop, ever window, tree, and ridge pole of a roof was outlined in Christmas lights. It was stunning. I'm sure it still is.
So my parents would stop there on our way home and because it was Thanksgiving night, the place was virtually empty. We would have the entire little village to ourselves. The best part about it was that my parents let us roam around in our pajamas and no shoes because of our bunny feet. As a little kid I can't convey how thrilling the experience was to freely run around the town in nothing by my pajamas and maybe my jacket if it was extra cold.
There would be Christmas music piped out through the loudspeakers and I would run to the little toy store that was lit up and press my face against the glass and stare in at the porcelain dolls and look at them longingly.
My sister and I would skip and shriek with excitement and run to the gazebo to see the gingerbread house display and salivate over the prettiest ones. My parents would walk behind us hand in hand and eventually get lost behind a tree for a moment or two before stepping back out to join us.
Maybe someday I'll have the privlidge of going back there to visit that wonderful place with the twinkle lights, but it won't be quite the same without that bunny suit. ;)
Please check out this website. and click on the pictures as it explains everything attached to my memory...
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