joy in the journey

a post from jen's blog...

Another Day at Work

I remember one of the first times I went to a theatre. It was to see the Return of the Wizard of Oz. Well intentioned, my parents and grandparents packed us into the car and brought goodies in for us to eat during the movie. My brother and I were so excited. But then the movie started. The intensity began. Dorothy was in jeopardy and our beloved innocent characters were being attacked. There were witches more ugly than those that existed in our worst nightmares with voices that shreaked and shoes that curled.
Just a little into the movie we were clutching each other and crying. The car was being sent for and we were heading for the nearest exit. Not the exit into the theatre but the outside exit. I remember hiding behind seats like we were dodging bullets. With Kyle in the lead, we darted out of that evil movie and into the 1981 Citation get away car.

I think I created that kind of emotional, but well-intentioned scenario or "learning experience" as my mother would call it, for my class today. It was rainy today so the little ones stayed inside during recess and lunch. So, we made it a movie day for half an hour.

We watched The Ugly Duckling. An innocent little classic story. Three kids ended up crying and the others were so enthralled in emotions that they didn't even notice the others crying.

So this is what kids are like when they aren't allowed to watch "big kid" movies and daytime tv?

You should have seen the little emotional wrecks during the part where the ugly duckling was abducted by cunning alligators claiming to be friends. One girl screamed bloody murder. Another girl buried her head in my lap. I looked at the class and little David had his eyes so full of tears he tilted his head back so he could see over the tears. And, like a good teacher does, I left the movie on. I told them how there are usually happy endings and that the Ugly Duckling will end up happy and loved.

All is well that ends well, right? Oops.

I think I might teach the six year olds next year.

A little while later, while the kids are at their other classes, I get called into the office saying that one of the 5 year olds is in the bathroom and is sick and can't/doesn't know how to wipe herself. Remember, I have pregnancy-nose, I don't care to be around poop more than I have to, and don't at all want to mess with poop. So, I go in and explain in a very expository way the steps to a successful wipe(s) through the door to the dangling feet on the other side.
Me: Ariel, are you sick.
Ariel: I have pantas.
Me: Is that a Russian word?
Ariel: Yes. Poop that is soft. Not so hard. Like you could drink it.
Me: (Gagging, making "a face" that I couldn't help making. Remembering that I make the same face at staff meetings involuntarily. I should stop that. Na. Not today) Oh. Are you ready to get off the toilet.
Ariel: I have poop still on my butt and I can't get it off myself.
Me: (Remembering that her 2 1/2 year old sister still breast feeds, and is not surprised that this 5 year old can't wipe her own bum.) Can you reach the toilet paper?
Ariel: Ya.
Me: Count 10 squares. (I'm not about to teach this kid to skimp on the poop wiping. I cut corners on going green other places...not the poop wipe.) Fold it up so it covers your hand and wipe from the bottom and up to your back. (Thinking: I hope she doesn't wipe the poop on her back, up her back, ewwwww!)
Ariel: There's poop on the paper.
Me: That means you "get" to wipe again(trying to say this enthusiastically since this little on is prone to breakdowns). Good job! That means you're in the right place. Put the poopy paper in the toilet.
Ariel: More paper?
Me: Yep.
Ariel: (Counting quietly...1,2,......9, 10) Ewww. Still poop.
Me: Wipe again then, Ariel. Oh...flush first. (The toilets in our school are old!)
Ariel: Uggggggh. Can't reach.
Me: What? The paper, the toilet, or your bottom?
Ariel: This is hard.
Me: (thinking: what? The poop, the wiping, or the flushing?)
Ariel: Got it! (flushing sound) No more poop.
Me: (it smells like she didn't do to hot of a job wiping but I sent her home.)

Nope, I'm not even going to pretend that I'm super nurturing or always kind. But, I am real. The kids know I tell them the truth if they ask. They know I will not do something for them that they know how to do themselves and they know that I can talk them through hard feelings and tough times. I'm not their mom. I'm their teacher.

So, no, I didn't hug the kids when they cried or turn off the show. They would have been upset if I did because they wanted to know what was going to happen. I really am going to teach the 6 year olds next year though. That means that I get many of the same kids, awesome parents, and different curriculum. But, they will be more independent and will be more mature. I will like that next year when I have a baby of my own to think about and coddle and wipe my own poopy baby. For that, I have never been more excited.