I woke up this morning to the surprise of a dusting of snow! Now I know I have a terrible memory, but I honestly can't think of a time when we've had snow before Thanksgiving! I'm sure it's a sign of a very cold, perhaps white winter ahead. Unfortunately, no delays or cancellations in Davie County this time, but that's alright.
Have I mentioned how I love my job? I really really do. And we're getting to the point in the year now that's just fantastic. The kids have all been trained and broken in for the most part. They know my expectations and do a pretty good job of meeting them. They're smart enough and independent enough to be functioning on their own (finally!) and I can relax and play and begin to really enjoy them. It's a great time.
I have a couple of funny Kindergarten stories from today. We came back from being outside this morning and my kids announced to me that it was no longer fall. I started to explain that yes while it is cold outside and we did get some snow last night, that doesn't really mean it's Winter when I had one student cut me off by saying, "No, no, no, Mrs. Hardy! It's not WINTER EITHER.... don't you know? It's FINTER!!" I love the way that five year olds think about things.
Except I don't always love the way that five year olds think about appropriate hand washing habits. Because after lunch today my dear sweet Tyson* who has warmed my heart countless times since he first darkened my doorway, had to go to the bathroom. Now a few weeks ago he went to the bathroom right as it was time to leave lunch and I didn't know it and left without him. This was apparently somewhat traumatizing for him because since that day he has said to me, EVERY SINGLE TIME that he goes to the bathroom, "Mrs. Hardy -- I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be quick. Don't you leave me now." I assured him I would not leave him and so our class was all lined up waiting for him to come out. As he started to scoot out the bathroom (all he really does is scoot anywhere... this child is so overweight that he moves like he can't quite pick his legs all the way up off the floor) the rest of my class starting saying to him "Tyson*, Tyson* -- you gotta go wash your hands!!!" To which he replied: "Why?? I didn't go poopy!"
*SIGH*
Since I'm writing about school, I guess I should also say that I've started a second blog that you can find the link to on the left here. It's "Mrs. Hardy's Honeys." I really created it for my kids' parents so that they could see photos of stuff we do, but if you're interested in looking at pictures of these kids too, feel free to check it out.
I feel so blessed to get to be a part of their lives and see and hear the way they are making sense of the world they live in each day. And you know what? I think it does feel like Finter.
Showing posts with label kindergarten. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kindergarten. Show all posts
November 21, 2008
August 28, 2008
Mrs. Hottie
I knew it would happen. Really, it was inevitable. You spend most of middle school doodling on notebooks your name with the last name of the latest crush. Once engaged, I secretly began signing Harris Teeter receipts as "Chrissy Hardy" just to try out a few different forms with the H. I delighted in the first few times I was able to introduce myself to someone with this new name. But today, it happened. I got sick of it.
I probably heard, "Mrs. Hardy" about three thousand, eight hundred, fifty-seven times today. Except it didn't usually just sound like, "Mrs. Hardy" the way the nice lady at the Harris Teeter check out said it. This was pitched in five-year-old-speak with the vowel stretched way out. Something like, "Mrs. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaardy." It's a shame that I didn't make it to the three month mark of being married before this new name is already sounding a bit like fingernails scratching down a chalkboard.
But it's okay. They'll learn eventually to raise their hands and stay in their seats and all that jazz. And I have one student who doesn't know my name yet anyways and he's the one I love the most, not just because he can't contribute to the chorus. I could spend pages telling you about Tyson* already and I've only known him for four days. Suffice it to say his home life is rocky at best. He is living in extreme poverty and to say that his life experiences are limited doesn't begin to cover it. He's scared out of his mind, feels completely unsafe and abandoned and doesn't know the first thing about the culture of school. But he has a sweet heart and I know he'll be okay eventually.
Today was the first day we've been able to go out on the playground since school started thanks to Tropical Storm Fay. The whole kindergarten grade level was out there and it's always fun to watch how the children negotiate play. This group was doing an exceptional job of creating a line for the slide. Everyone seemed to be getting along well and participating in the newly developed system. All except Tyson. He was wondering around the playground, just looking at the pieces of equipment with wide eyes. I left the teacher bench and approached him.
"Tyson, have you ever been to a playground before?"
"uuuuhuuuuu." (I should mention that among other things Tyson has a severe speech/articulation issue that has not been addressed since he's never been in school. Most of what he says is nearly indiscernible, but we've learned that by asking yes or no questions we can usually differentiate between the two grunts that stand for yes and no. His response about the playground was a yes, but I'm not sure he really has.)
"Well, what would you like to play on?"
"That." Tyson points to the curly slide and moves his arms to show the motion of children spiraling down it.
Tyson didn't understand the line that was forming at all, so I took his hand and went and stood beside him in line. We reached the top and he had his chance to go down. I wish I could describe for you the look on a five year old child's face who is going down a slide for the first time. It was pure, unabated joy. I am so grateful that Tyson has another 176 days of Kindergarten where he can play on that slide as much as he wants.
After recess, we came back inside and went to centers. The volume in the room quickly rose and I took a moment to excuse myself to the staff bathroom right outside my door. From inside the bathroom I could hear the voice of a little boy in the boy's bathroom inside my classroom. He has a hard time with his r's, so he was calling my name out over and over, but it sounded mostly like "Mrs. Hoddy, Mrs. Hoddy, Mrs. Hoooooooooooooooddy!!!!!!" I quickly finished up and went to go check on him. What I found in the bathroom is another story altogether and while it's far funnier than the story about Tyson, it tells better with hand motions and voices. But I turned to my teaching assistant and said, "It's a shame I hate my new name already, but at least when Chris says it, it sounds like "Mrs. Hottie."
* Names changed to protect the identities of my students who haven't a clue I'm writing about them. And I'd quite like it to stay that way.
I probably heard, "Mrs. Hardy" about three thousand, eight hundred, fifty-seven times today. Except it didn't usually just sound like, "Mrs. Hardy" the way the nice lady at the Harris Teeter check out said it. This was pitched in five-year-old-speak with the vowel stretched way out. Something like, "Mrs. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaardy." It's a shame that I didn't make it to the three month mark of being married before this new name is already sounding a bit like fingernails scratching down a chalkboard.
But it's okay. They'll learn eventually to raise their hands and stay in their seats and all that jazz. And I have one student who doesn't know my name yet anyways and he's the one I love the most, not just because he can't contribute to the chorus. I could spend pages telling you about Tyson* already and I've only known him for four days. Suffice it to say his home life is rocky at best. He is living in extreme poverty and to say that his life experiences are limited doesn't begin to cover it. He's scared out of his mind, feels completely unsafe and abandoned and doesn't know the first thing about the culture of school. But he has a sweet heart and I know he'll be okay eventually.
Today was the first day we've been able to go out on the playground since school started thanks to Tropical Storm Fay. The whole kindergarten grade level was out there and it's always fun to watch how the children negotiate play. This group was doing an exceptional job of creating a line for the slide. Everyone seemed to be getting along well and participating in the newly developed system. All except Tyson. He was wondering around the playground, just looking at the pieces of equipment with wide eyes. I left the teacher bench and approached him.
"Tyson, have you ever been to a playground before?"
"uuuuhuuuuu." (I should mention that among other things Tyson has a severe speech/articulation issue that has not been addressed since he's never been in school. Most of what he says is nearly indiscernible, but we've learned that by asking yes or no questions we can usually differentiate between the two grunts that stand for yes and no. His response about the playground was a yes, but I'm not sure he really has.)
"Well, what would you like to play on?"
"That." Tyson points to the curly slide and moves his arms to show the motion of children spiraling down it.
Tyson didn't understand the line that was forming at all, so I took his hand and went and stood beside him in line. We reached the top and he had his chance to go down. I wish I could describe for you the look on a five year old child's face who is going down a slide for the first time. It was pure, unabated joy. I am so grateful that Tyson has another 176 days of Kindergarten where he can play on that slide as much as he wants.
After recess, we came back inside and went to centers. The volume in the room quickly rose and I took a moment to excuse myself to the staff bathroom right outside my door. From inside the bathroom I could hear the voice of a little boy in the boy's bathroom inside my classroom. He has a hard time with his r's, so he was calling my name out over and over, but it sounded mostly like "Mrs. Hoddy, Mrs. Hoddy, Mrs. Hoooooooooooooooddy!!!!!!" I quickly finished up and went to go check on him. What I found in the bathroom is another story altogether and while it's far funnier than the story about Tyson, it tells better with hand motions and voices. But I turned to my teaching assistant and said, "It's a shame I hate my new name already, but at least when Chris says it, it sounds like "Mrs. Hottie."
* Names changed to protect the identities of my students who haven't a clue I'm writing about them. And I'd quite like it to stay that way.
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