Kindergarten.

This week, I had the opportunity to teach 3 days of kindergarten.  At first, I was afraid.  Very afraid.  Not scared of the dark afraid, but afraid of the boogers!  Five year olds have excessive amounts of boogers.  And shoe laces that are untied.  And pants that need to be buttoned.  And owies on their fingers that always need a band-aid.  And there were 23 of them, not just one, and that was just the morning class.

I guess that I should back up a little bit to review this past year, and remind you why a college educated experienced teacher is substitute teaching.  Because our government sucks.  Yep, even our education system.  What's worse off, is even if you are a burned out 87 year old teacher still using teaching materials from 1968, the State of Illinois can't push you out the door.  Teacher's contracts in Illinois are not based on performance either, but rather tenure.  So, if you are lucky enough to keep your job for 4 consecutive years at the same district, then you are magically a teacher for as long as you want to be one.  Those that are recently hired are the first to go, even if they are beloved by the children, staff, and parents.  It doesn't matter that they brought an entire class' reading scores above average, or planned fundraisers to ensure that every student could go on field trips free of charge.  Nope, none of the extra counts.

So, this year in February, our son Quinn died.  Then in May, I lost my job as a teacher.  I interviewed about 8 times this summer, but wasn't in the best frame of mind.  Quinn's date of arrival was set to be in June.  Needless to say, I didn't interview well.  As I reflect back on it, I'm a shitty interview.  This about sums it up:



So, I decided to sub.  And honestly, it's the best thing that's happened this year.  I get to catch my breath, and I don't have to deal with the bullshit of teaching like papers to grade and parents to contact and staff meetings.  I get the best part of teaching, which is the kids.

So, I walked into the kindergarten classroom on Wednesday, and read through the plans that the teacher had left me.  This week's letter?  The letter Q. 

The kids knew that I was coming, and they were excited.  I honestly can't sort through all the conversations that I had with them, or the funny shit they said.  I should have been writing it down all along.  But, you can't find a second to do anything by yourself in a classroom of 23 five year olds.    It's a good thing there were walls up.  I'm not sure what would have happened if they weren't contained.  I got a few stories, but I assure you there were waaaay more.

***

We were in the middle of singing the Letter Q song, when the CD player began to skip. This, sent the entire group of them into hysterics. At first, I tried to quiet them down, but soon realized how funny something like that is. This group of maniacs reminded me to slow down, look around, and listen.

***

While I was sitting at a U shaped table with one little girl, I realized that she was having some serious trouble with her sounds and letters.  I sat across from her, as she had a sheet of paper and a pencil in front of her.

"Can you write the letter S?"

She draws on the paper:  H

"Can you write the letter C?"

On the paper: H


"Can you write the letter N?"

Paper:  H

sigh.

"Can you write the letter H?"

H

"Wahoo!  You did it!!"  *gives high five*

***
I do remember one distinct conversation with one little girl.  I'll call her Nora.  Nora hadn't really spoken to me all day.  At one time or another, each kid had approached me to tell me something special, or announce something exciting, always talking to me about 6 inches from my face.  It would look like this:

[Me sitting in a tiny chair at a table working one-on-one with a child, while the others did various other activities at different centers.  Each approached me separately.]

David, tugging on my shirt:  "Mrs. Puppies, I have new Spiderman pajamas!"

Macy, twirling her left braid:  "GUESS WHAT!?  I'm going to a restaurant with my mommy tonight!"

Timmy, holding his seemingly half amputated finger: "Look, I have an owie, riiiiiight there" (I squint to see it)

Riley, coming 6 inches from my face and shouting: "Did you know my brother is in 5th grade???"

So, Nora participated in all the activities, joked with her friends, and played well,  but never approched me.  That afternoon, we all sat down in the cafeteria with our snacks.  I sat across from Nora.  She pulled out her peanut butter and jelly sandwich on Won.der bread (I never knew that this was one of the smells that defined my childhood until this moment) and took a bite, staring at me.

Nora:  [speaking under her breath] Do you know what?

Me:  [surprised to get a conversation] What's that Nora?

N:  My baby brother is in heaven.

Me:  [startled] Oh, really?

N:  Yep.  One day he was in my mommy's tummy, then the next day he wasn't.  Mom says that he kicked his way out and ran up to heaven.

Me: [clearly not knowing how to react, as all the kids are now staring at me] What was his name?

N:  Timmy.

End of conversation.  She immediately went back to being a small child, and goofing off.

And, I loved teaching kindergarten.  I can't wait to go back and get more experience in the grade level, and hopefully find my own class of little critters one day.  By Friday, I couldn't wait to wake up and go back.

Also, if you don't know any 5 year old's personally, I highly recommend that you go out and become acquainted with one.  It will change your life.