from one of my kiddos

Dear Santa,

I don't want much. I don't even need toys. All I want (if you think I'm a good girl) is for you to promise me I will always have teachers as wonderful as Carri (and co teachers)

I want teachers like them with patience and smiles and that treat me with respect. I can't believe how much they taught me!

And I'm so happy they gave me structure and cared for me when my daddy was sick.

This year, please bring them everything on their wish list...maybe that will make their jobs just a little bit easier

Luckily I didn't read this card in front of the children. Cause it made me cry. A lot.

When I stop and think about how far this family (and others) have changed in a year it amazes me. Children grow so fast and quick that a year is a lifetime to them. Their lives completely change in a year. The work I do as a teacher is huge. It can leave a lasting impact on these families. The small stuff we do each day can make a difference forever.

vs my old office job

I remember working in an office. Somedays there are a bazillion things to do and not enough time to get them done. Somedays I had to make a to do list in order to figure out which of the bazillion things that all needed done ASAP, actually needed done first. And then there are somedays when there is nothing to do- except check email, answer phone calls, and refill my coffee cup. But that only takes an hour...what to do with the other seven.

I hated those days of searching for things to do. I hated even more when I didn't find anything. A friend reminded me yesterday- the trouble with having nothing to do at work? Leaving at the end of the day having accomplished nothing. I need that sense of accomplishment. Now my days are filled with things that get done- although not always what I planned.

Well in the realm of all the hats I wear, and unlike all the ways being a teacher is similar to being a bartender...here begins all the ways working in a classroom is not the same as working in an office...

In the office, I walked in- found a safe location to stash my purse, hung up my coat, and settled into my chair, sipping coffee while waiting for my computer to boot up, composing myself before I had to actually interact with anyone.

In the classroom, I walk in- found myself assaulted with hugs and chants of Carri's Here! and lil ones asking for help with dress up clothes all while trying to hold my purse, coat and coffee mug out of there reach until time permits for a safe location to be found for stashing them.

In the office, I checked email, phone messages and made to do lists several times throughout the day.

In the classroom, email? maybe a few times a week; the phone is ringing? Well can't answer that since I'm across the room dealing with poop or boogers or a wrestling match; to do lists? haha ha...although I do get to spend time every day writing names, drawing pictures and rolling playdough.

In the office, I chose my daily coffee mug based on which image made me laugh. Filled it to the top with yummy hot coffee and sipped on it at my leisure. Too cold? Let me walk to the breakroom for a refill. Too hot? I'll take a moment to just sit here and blow on it till its cool enough.

In the classroom, I choose my daily coffee mug based on its durability. Will it resist spilling as it gets jostled in my arms during the assault of welcoming toddlers? Will it retain most of the dark liquid gold when it is knocked off the table onto the ground? and hot coffee...Ha thats overrated. A good swig of cold coffee- thats refreshing for the senses!

In the office, I never questioned the safety of my coffee sitting on my desk.

In the classroom, I glance over to see one precocious toddler leaning over and taking a big swig of my coffee!

In the office, I counted packets of information, dollars in the budget, and hours until the end of the day.

In the classroom, I count wiggly children ALL day long. We have 12 toddlers, are they all here? Did 12 make it down the stairs for lunch? Did 12 make it outside during the mad rush of a fire drill?

In the office, to use the restroom, I walked down the hall, into the bathroom and locked the door.

In the classroom, to use the restroom I first count the children, subtract 6 to find the number I need to take with me in order to maintain ratio. Write up a list of everyone's name in order to assure I don't leave anyone behind. Count again (yep I have the 4 I need) Walk to the office, Have the children sit and NOT TOUCH ANYTHING. Finish my business as quickly as possible all the while listening for noises of impending doom from the 4 children who are no longer sitting and NOT TOUCHING ANYTHING. Put the office supplies back to the order they were in before my 4 hooligans arrived. Count the children (still have 4) and walk back to the room.

In the office, I watched from the warmth of climate controlled air as snow gently floated down covering the white surface in all its glory.

In the classroom, I give in to chants of snow, snow, snow! I spend 30 minutes bundling up 12 toddlers...removing shoes, pulling on snow pants, stomping feet into boots, flipping on jackets, tugging down hats and fastening up mittens. Bundle myself up. Trudge down the slippery sidewalk and let them loose to play in the wonderful world of white...for 10 minutes until they are all "too cold"

In the office, I got "reviewed" every January and July.

In the classroom, I get reviewed every day. With hugs and kisses and lil ones who don't want to leave.

We've been waiting for this day!

For weeks now (ever since we brought out the wintery type books from storage) the toddlers have been asking

Where's Snow?

Snow tomorrow?

Snow right now?

One lil lady even got into a heated discussion with her parents as to whether or not snow would be coming tomorrow (and this was weeks ago, when it was 60*) her parents thought she was nuts, I happened to agree while taking the blame for her presumption that it would be snowing tomorrow.

You see we've been reading these books multiple times a day, 5 days a week for over a month. And our standard answer to the questions posed is that Snow is coming soon. Not today but one day very soon.

Then yesterday (on picture day none the less) it came. After smiling pretty for pictures (changing out of our fancy clothes into more appropriate romping through the snow clothes) we began bundling up.

20 minutes later there were 22 boots, 11 coats, 22 mittens, 11 hats adorning the toddlers. We even managed to keep all our gear on as we walked down the slippery path to the playground. And boy were we excited. We stomped in the snow, threw chunks of ice and pretended to be skating on the slippery surface. We lasted 30 minutes (for those counting, thats only 10 min longer than it took to get ready) then the snotty tears started flowing

I'm cold

My hands are freezing (if you actually wear your gloves instead of insisting on carrying them, it might help)

My body hurts (calling you out on being a liar here lil one, but nice try)

So trudge back down the slippery path, made even more perilous as we tried to find stable footing through tear filled eyes. Take off all our gear (only took 5 minutes to get off) and relaxed in the warmth of our heated classroom.

I've often said that naptime restarts the day. During the dark, music filled hour something resets. Sometimes this works to our advantage as the grumpy toddler is replaced by a smiling, eager friend ready to play. Sometimes not so much and we wonder what grumpy spirit possessed our sweet lil one during their nap. Apparently, during nap these toddlers had forgotten how outraged they were after 30 minutes in the snow. They had forgotten about their icy hands and cold feet. They had forgotten the 20 minute wrestling match to get dressed in all the gear. They only remembered the stomping, the throwing and the skating.

Snow gone?

Where'd snow go?

I miss snow? (accompanied with a few tears)

Snow come back?

I want snow! (accompanied with angry foot stomping)

Rest assured lil ones the snow will come back. And soon there will be snow filled scenes just like our favorite books. But for now can we just enjoy frolicking in the flurries that melt away during lunch?

Cause soon it will look like this Sigh...

TED oh how I love thee

The standard litany of questions posed this week after my notable absence from school (dude, we get vacation days just like you do)

How was your conference?

Great! Amazing! I'm going to change the world!

What was it again?

TED, you know the big event they do every year in Cali (sortof true) they host a smaller (cheaper!) version in columbus!

Oh, what's TED?

Therein lies the problem. How does one begin to describe the wonders that is TED. I know the standard schpeal of its a meeting where great thinkers get together, present 18 minute talks and inspire.

But that does not even begin to encompass what it feels like to be in that audience. The way it bends and twists and pulls at your brain until it just can't stretch anymore. The way it gives hope that one person can actually make a difference. I can do it. I can change the world.

One of my toddlers has a great shirt "I will make a difference" That gives me hope. It's true. We have no idea how far this next generation will go. And while they may not remember much if anything about their time spent in the toddler room with me, I hope to spark that inner fire in each child...that inner fire that will survive:

the monatony of teaching to the test (thanks no child left behind bullshit!)

the years of teenage angst and struggling to find yourself

the wonders and freedoms that are presented as you finish high school

the pressures and distractions that society presents along the way

That inner fire will smolder away until the child, now all grown, can return to it. Remembering their passions, their outrage, their uniqueness and use all of this to make a difference, to change the world.

So, who inspired me?

Teresa Long: Columbus Public Health Commissioner

a) because she had artists painting in the background...perfect visual for my lil ADD brain

b) 100% of children who don't know how to read by the end of 3rd grade go to jail. 100% 100% how clear cut of a statistic. How easy (in theory) to fix.

Now I know it's not that simple. I know the SES implications and family history and how that all ties in together to affect a child's education. But if we can give these kids who have so much against them the fighting chance- if we teach them to read, if we teach them to value reading and show them a glimpse of how far they can go if they only master this one skill. If we show them this future it can give them hope.

c) then she goes in to this concept of a healthy community...access to quality food stores, green spaces, neighbors who know each other

d) teaching the art of conflict resolution. If we equip these same children who live on the bubble, whose family history hints at the cycle of poverty and hopelessness. If we equip these children with the skills to resolve personal conflict. Not just to NOT participate in bullying, but to stand up to those who bully others. Teaching them to stand up when they see something wrong.

In my classroom (which is the antitheses of these children who live on the bubble) we are setting the stage for conflict resolution and community responsibility. We strive to create a community of children who look out for each other, who help each other, who are kind, who see a friend crying and ask why? then ask what they can do to help. Who stick up for a peer when they are getting hurt. Who don't just turn to an adult to solve their problems, but who try their own solutions and watch in amazement when they work.

e) And her recurring theme of Find what outrages you. Find what keeps you up at night. Use this passion to change the world.

Megan Jones: First Graduating Class from METRO high school

a) I wish my high school were this cool

b) I wish that at 19 I would have had the confidence to stand up and deliver an inspiring talk in front of hundreds of really smart people

c) I wish that I would have been able to pronounce all those chemistrical/biological terms she spoke about in her research project

d) I wish that I would have graduated high school with 47 ish credit hours

So METRO high school is a Science, Technology, Engineering and Math focused school. Yet, Megan's passions are much more art/social sciences focused (her major is history at OSU) Yet, in this day and age of teaching to the test, only focusing on benchmarks and only teaching what every student in the state of ohio must be learning on a given day, her school kindled her passion.

Because really, what do benchmarks really tell you about an individual...nothing. An individuals ideas are more telling of who they are and how they think that simple checkmarks on a test.

Curriculum needs to be dynamic, not static. Curriculum needs to begin at the interests of the students and classroom. It needs to challenge and inspire in these interest fields. Cause if a student is not interested in what they are learning, what is the point? They'll memorize the 'correct answer' for a test, but the information does not delve its way into their thinking.

beginning thoughts...more to come...

oh and check this out: The Myth of Charter Schools

Mimosa Cupcakes

Cause I can't just follow a recipe, I combined 3...

Made the batter from this one

Made the syrup from this one

Made the frosting from this one

Decorated with orange sprinkles and orange slices.

The cupcakes turned out very very very sweet. Next time, I'll eliminate the frosting and simply decorate with an orange slice. An orange slice soaked overnight in champaign...Yum Yum

Education as more than a Fast Food Model

Oh how I love Sir Ken Robinson. He spoke at TED 4 years ago, and then returned again this year. He inspires me...

Yes! College does not begin at Kindergarten. Children should not be expected to sit before a committee determining whether or not they have 'qualified' for Super Fancy Kindergarten. Each child should have access to the best schools, not just the ones who have been born into a corner of the world where their parents advocate for good education and can finance private tutors and lessons.

Yes! Why do we expect every child to go to Kindergarten?!?! What's wrong with being a firefighter, or servicemen or massage therapist. These people impact my daily life and I love them! And the uniforms mmmm mmmm

Yes! Schools should not be set up on a fast food model where each 1st grade classroom is exactly like every other one. Schools should be like all the local restaurants we love. Each one different, each one resonating with the community it resides in. Each child's education should be personalized. Their interests should be highlighted and encouraged.

Perhaps my favorite moment was as Sir Ken set up the Abraham Lincoln speech. He referenced the date and then went on to say that he has not idea what was happening in society then. You see, in Britain they don't teach american history. Well in America they do. I was taught American history for 12+ years. And you know what Sir Ken? I don't know what was happening in society then either, so Ha!

a welcome distraction

Funerals suck. Viewings suck. Gravesite memorials suck. They suck big hairy donkey balls.

I love, love, love being Jewish. B/c being Jewish commands us to "bury our dead as quickly as possible." B/c burying our dead quickly allows the process to have an end, a quick end rather than a long drawn out week of torture.

Throughout said viewing, funeral and gravesite memorializing, I was asked many times- you're really going back to work? You can't get the rest of the day off? Are you sure you can handle that?

To those questions I answer Yes! (a: no one was available to finish my day and b: just look at the rest of my day)

I return to school during naptime, noone awake (praise the lord, its a miracle!) As my kiddos begin waking up I get one of 2 reactions...

Starring almost like they've seen a ghost. or my favorite. Chanting of Carri! Carri! Carri! Followed by lots and lots of hugs as if we are long lost friend who haven't seen each other in years, as opposed to 24 hours.

I said throughout the day, my children better be angels when I get back. And they mostly were. There was the boy wearing underwear at school for the first time and he made it through the afternoon with no accidents. none. Soooo proud of him. There was the girl who insisted I sit down and read the same book a bazillion times, but it was worth it to see the smiles on her face. There was the random comments that always punctuate our conversations: "I'm making a veil cause I'm getting wedding-ed!" "I'm having a campout. A pesto campout" "It's super hot here. But its ok cause I was born in Arizona. It's super duper hot there"

I remember when my grandma died, I couldn't wait to get back to my classroom. I remember when dear friends shipped off to the desert, I couldn't wait to get back to my kiddos. I remember when everything in my life was changing (oh like moving cross country) and the only place that made sense was my classroom with my kiddos and my materials and playing all day.

Yes, everyday they drive me INSANE! But yes, everyday they bring me such joy.

Except when from the bathroom I hear the dreaded words..."Teacher, why is my poop on the floor?" Oy! and lots and lots of Bleach! I'm all for using non toxic, green cleaners. But there are some things that can only be solved by a gallon of bleach

New Marketing Subgroup

Sometimes my children shock me.

Yesterday we were reading a new book- a rather good book. A rather good book, whose name has left me at the moment. I love the premise of the book- a child climbs into his grandma's lap as she tells him a story. The child shares with us that "On my grandma's lap, I can go anywhere...swim to the bottom of the ocean, float on pink cotton candy clouds, travel on an african safari..." Love, love, love the imagination of this book.

Then I turned to the last page and ran across this picture...

and I wonder something...so I pose the question: Do you know who this is? Do you know where he works?

Now a bit of educational philosophy...the ability to "read" pictures and decipher information from them is an big emerging reading skill. We often play this game as we read books...tell me, what is that whale doing in the picture. When the child invents his idea based on the image he sees of the whale, he is putting together the skills necessary for one day reading letters and putting them together to create words and stories. Some of the first images children "read" and can decipher are fast food signs.

Back to the question...My curiosity was peeked because I know that while Ronald McDonald was a big part of my childhood, I don't know that I've seen him lately. Another layer to this curiosity is that my clientele is very crunchy granola. So while I know that occasionally they will stop at the common fast food establishments, I also know they are much, much, much more likely to eat at local, crunchy granola type restaurants.

So I pose the question and wait responses. To which I receive NONE. These children don't know Ronald McDonald. They don't know the Golden Arches logo on his shirt.

Perhaps the winds of marketing has shifted. In fact, I heard rumor they might 'fire' Mr McDonald b/c he makes kids fat.

But nonetheless my inner crunchy granola loving self is happy. Cause just maybe these children's taste buds are being exposed to more wholesome food. Cause just maybe these children will grow up eager to explore the mom and pop diner down the street instead of the McDs on the corner. Cause just maybe we are making a difference.

Important life lessons

Adding to the drama of yesterday was this little exchange...

Mary: "Freddy is my boy buddy!" grinning big, waving to Freddy as he walks by

Molly: "Freddy is MY boy buddy!"

and so it begins...

"No, he's MY BOY BUDDY!"

"He's MY BOY BUDDY!"

and then it proceeds to wailing...

"But I love him. I NEEEDDDD a boy buddy"

At which point I am compelled to intervene. Big hugs and wiping of crocodile tears. And very serious words. "Boys are great friends and fun to play with. But you never, never, never NEED one. This is a life lesson sweetheart. Boys are great, but you never, never, never NEED one."

Being friends is hard work

There are a group of girls in my classroom all born within a few weeks of each other. These 4 girls LOVE LOVE LOVE each other and yet HATE HATE HATE each other. Several times throughout the day.

My fellow toddler teachers joke that once children achieve certain milestones, we kick em out of the classroom. (not actually) But certain behaviors: resisting nap time, intentionally not telling us the whole truth, the use of 'potty language!' are clear indicators that they are ready for a new challenge. And that we are ready to have them not corrupt new youngsters who haven't yet learned the joys of yelling POOPEY! at lunch.

One such indicator has been occurring lately in the classroom. "You can't come to my party. You aren't my friend anymore. You are so mean!" Sure signs they need to be shipped up to the preschool rooms. Luckily we don't have to deal with these situations often. Unfortunately I am not well practiced at handling these moments. Unlike pushing, biting, tantrumning, toileting etc. I'm excellent at handling those. But when I have 2 hysterically children crying and screaming at each other about whether or not they are friends, a lot harder to handle.

Yesterday...

Susy: "You are mean. You are not my friend."
Sandy: "No I not! You are mean!"

Susy: "She said I was mean! I don't want to be her friend"
Sandy: "She said mean mean mean!"

Susy: "She's mean! She doesn't want to be my friend"

and the wailing continued for what felt like forEVER. Anyone see the irony in this argument. 2 girls, desperately wanting to be friends. Both yelling at each other. Both distraught because their friend yelled at them.

Lesson of the week: If you don't want your friend to yell at you, you can't yell at them.

I have so much hope today

No, I haven't stayed up late studying all the detailed language (like I could understand it even if I did) in this Health Care Bill.

Yes, I do expect the federal government to have read my mind and made all the changes I wanted to have made.

Yes, I admit that may be slightly ridiculous to expect Obama to have read my mind, but still... a girl can have hope right?

Because if small businesses is what America is built around, why are individuals penalized for supporting them. I have a small business kinda heart. I've worked for small businesses the majority of my working career. I love small businesses. I love working for A man instead of THE man. I love advocating for change at my work place and actually being able to make changes. I love the community working for a small business creates. I love not having corporate come to visit and create rules for me to follow when they don't live every day with me. I love that my boss does live every day with me. She sees the good, the bad and the utterly entertaining.

But a serious flaw to working for a small business? Crappy health insurance. Really crappy. And really expensive. Because if your looking to get coverage for 10 folks your rate is one thing. If your looking to get coverage for 1000s your rate is a trillion times better. Yes trillion. And I understand discounts. But to me, the individual, who looks at my friends who pay way way WAY less than I do just cause they work for THE man, I say its not fair!

Because I should not be penalized for having a vagina! I understand that I have the parts to create offspring. But I also have the parts to get lung cancer, or gout or shingles. Does that mean I will get them? Should I be required to pay a significantly higher rate each month on the off chance I will one day need radiation treatments. No. Then why am I being told I have to pay a higher rate, just in case my uterus decides to create a baby?

Because it makes me so angry when I see those breakdowns of coverage billing things. My doctor bills my insurance 200 for a visit. The insurance decides, hmm I think I'll pay 119 for the visit. And that is that. Do I get that choice when a company sends me a bill? No. Why do they? All that does is make the doctors charge more so that the actual cost of an appointment is covered. Which is turn allows the insurance company to be like see- it costs more than last year, therefore I have to pay more each month. But they created the problem. Live with it!

Because it is not logical that my rates go up 30-50 dollars a month each year. If your mismanaging the money I give you that much that you have to raise the rates that much every year. You don't get to manage my money anymore.

Damn Health Insurance Crooks.

Oh, and to those who are against the plan cause its not good enough. Grow up. Some change is better than no change. And you can't get it all perfect the first time.

And to those who have fabulous health insurance who are against the changes. Would you like to add me to your policy?

some favorite things...and why we no longer go outside

Our new favorite book:

5 Green and Speckled Frogs, sitting on a hollow log

Eating some most delicious bugs Yum Yum

One jumped into the pool, where it was nice and cool

Now are 4 green frogs.

How do I know its our new favorite book? Woke up several times last night to this tune in my head. Even meandered its way into my dreams. Oy

Our new favorite place to sit: my lap

To the extent that upon sitting down, there is a mad dash (worthy of olympic speed skating medals) complete with a forcefull plop onto the lap. To the extent that a lil one who was having a very hard time getting comfortable, couldn't choose whether to relinquish his prized lap spot for comfort, or to just suck it up and move on.

Him: lap, lap, lap

Me: if you're uncomfortable, stand him

Him: lap, lap, lap. tugging at my belt which apparantly was the source for his lower back pain.

Me: i am wearing a belt today, no I will not take it off. If it hurts, stand up (at which point I help him up)

Him: lap, lap, lap.

this continued for 10 minutes, until I decided for the sanity of all involved to get up and work on another idea

This month we've had some ungodly number of inches of snow (something like 25) which have effectively buried our playground. When it finally warmed up to the point where it was deemed possible to go outside, we tried. Twice. On two different days. Each with exhausting and disastrous consequences.

To enjoy 25 inches of snow we need to be wearing: snow pants, snow boots, coat, hat and mittens. All 12 of us. We had a plan. We gave ourselves a 30 minute head start. We told the kiddos the plan. All were excited to play in the snow. 40 minutes later and a call to the office for help. Scene: 11 toddlers, dressed ready to go. 1 toddler not dressed and ready to go. infact, he is only wearing a diaper. 20 minutes was spent wrestling this particular toddler into snow pants, boots, coat hat and mittens 4 separate times. Each time it was followed by him stripping each item: snow pants, boots, coat, hat mittens AND regular pants and shirt. Each time it was replaced with calm words (and the wish to have 8 arms) until finally, finally the clothes stayed on. Well, not the original clothes- cause really after 20 minutes of wrestling a toddler the standards of appropriate dress fall way way down. Final outfit: no snowpants, his coat, borrowed boots and a hat from our classroom instead of his from home.

His mom's response: When I saw his snowpants, boots and hat in the classroom I wondered, where is my son? When I told her the story, she just smiled and said thank you. It doesn't really matter whose hat he wears, now does it. Love her

To the parent who ended my day (yes the same day) with this interaction: Umm could you really make sure her boots are velcroed shut. Cause there is snow in them. Don't love her.

To that parent I smiled and said ok. To that parent I thought in my head... You have no idea. No idea that while the wrestling happened above, I was so thankful that your child was able to dress themselves. I have 12 toddlers to get ready, the ones that can do it independently do. If your child had asked for help, or mentioned that there was snow in her boots- of course I would help her. But I do not have the time, energy, or desire to examine every pair of boots to ensure proper fit and velcro placement. Especially when my focus is on keeping your child from pulling her friends hair. Priorities people.

And that is why I will no longer fight the snow gods to get my children a lil fresh air. It is not worth it.

Oh and to my doctor that says wrangling toddlers for a living does not constitute a workout. I say Phooey. I am not following up my days with going to the gym. I follow up my days with opening a big ol bottle of wine. Priorities!

Too much yummyness in one bowl!

During the weekend o'snow I was feeling especially creative. Cause really who wants to brave 8" of snow just to get to the car. One creative experiment: Black Bean Hummus Dip. Super Simple. Super Yummy. May inspire extra trips to the store for stocking up on Black Beans.

Drain 1 can of Black Beans. (I then proceeded to thoroughly rinse them, cause really that slimy black stuff is gross!)

Pour into Food Processor and begin processing. Once the beans turn into an awesome looking paste, drizzle in a bit of Olive Oil (I used 1 Tbsp and I think I'll use less next time) This evens out the bean texture a bit. Process some more.

Add your favorite seasonings: Mine include seasoning salt, chipotle chili powder, pepper and more salt (cause I love me some salty goodness!) Process away! (Have I mentioned I love, love, love my food processor!)

Scoop into a bowl, stir in some grated pepperjack cheese. Warm in microwave.

Add more pepperjack cheese on top and dig in. I chose Multigrain Tortilla Chips as my vessel for transporting the yummy black bean dip into my mouth.

Mmmm Mmmm

And the Grammy goes to...

We've decided for as much our amusement as the parents, we'll be instituting the Koala Room Grammy Awards. Nominees are (insert drumroll here)

The girl who yells at her friend "Go away!" Changes her mind, runs after her friend. Finally catches up to her friend and yells "Go away!" Repeat. Several times. For 20 minutes.

The boy who freaks out about his shoe laces being untied. Now I'm all for safety. But realizing a potential tripping hazard exists between your feet does not need to be followed up by a full fledged hysterical meltdown. While holding said untied shoelaces. Hopping around on one foot. Screaming "Untied, my's shoes untied. my's shoes untied!"

The girl who while trying to avoid taking a nap- even though she's soo tired her eyes won't stay open alternates between screaming and crying. Screaming 'on my cot. i wanna be on my cot' Crying 'rock me. rock me.' Dear sweet child. Just give in. Go to sleep. Or at least make up your mind and stop screaming.

The boy who halfway through lunch realizes he is no longer wearing his hat. His winter hat that belongs to his brother, older than him by 2 years. His winter hat that is slightly too big, that he chooses to wear off to one side that leads to a slight gansta look. His winter hat that we secretly stashed in his cubby to avoid getting smeared with ketchup. As he realizes his, full on meltdown in the middle of our lunch room. Let to plates/cups being removed for the sake of everyone at the table who didn't need ketchup on them. Except me. Cause after he recovers from 'how dare you take my hat' he needs a good snuggle. The boy, covered in ketchup and snot leans in for a good snuggle. (and that is why I wear work clothes)

Why I have work clothes

Remember when we were little and there was a well defined distinction in clothing. Play clothes and school clothes. School clothes were reserved for church, school and other public outings. Play clothes were freedom. I didn't have to worry about what I was doing, what got on the clothes or how many new holes I ripped in the knees. These were MY clothes and I did with them as I pleased.

Well, now that I'm a grownup I have work clothes and play clothes. But now its the play clothes that are nice, clean and hole free. My work clothes on the other hand, please don't look too closely.

Just yesterday...

Lunch was pizza, bananas and salad- at least it wasn't spaghetti day. My left elbow and forearm were covered in many small pizza sauce colored handprints and ooey gooey banana fingerprints. The only reason I wasn't also decorated in ranch dressing? I only let him have 2 scoops. Seriously I'm a ranch dressing lover too, but you can't just live on dressing alone.

One particularly gruesome aspect of toddlerhood is a fondness for eating boogers. I don't dwell on this too much b/c i have bigger fish to fry: Do NOT put your teeth on your friends shoulder. Do NOT push your friend down when you want to say hi. Do NOT pull up your underwear after having a BM on the potty until AFTER you wipe. Goodness gracious, a lil boogers aren't gonna hurt anyone.

Until they ended up on my shoulder. Upon realizing this, I said in all seriousness. I do NOT want YOUR booger on MY arm. The child couldn't believe I was turning down her gift. Big crocodile tears (the kind woman produce when they are trying to get their way) come pouring down her face. I soften my expression. I'm sorry, but I don't want that on my arm. You can put your booger on your arm, but not mine. Yes, this child is not yet 3 and has already mastered an essential of womanhood. Producing tears on command.

We've been exploring a pretty cool art project lately. Regular old washable tempera paint, mixed with salt. Produces beautiful, vibrant colors. Also splatters easily. Said splattering occurred when a lil one wanted to see what happened when he turned the paint tray upside down and shook it over his paper. Splatters on the table, splatters on the child (who naturally refused to wear a paint smock) and splatters on my boots. My new favorite boots which I have been loving so so so much. My new favorite boots which should probably be relegated to play clothes instead of work clothes. But I love them too much to not see them 5 days a week.

the Many Different Hats

Just yesterday...

I was a bathroom traffic regulation specialist. 5 out of 12 children have graduated from diapers (wahoo!) so what's that look like. 5 out of 12 children have to use the potty in the 15 minute transition from lunch to nap. And their new favorite thing? "I have to poop!" and they're all lil girls. I have never known lil girls to be so fascinated with BM. They want to see each others, they all gather around the potty to wave it bye-bye as it flushes. But seriously, we've got 5 girls who all need to go potty. That means I give you a few minutes, if its not flowin, you can try again later.

I was a personal body guard. Yes a full moon is on Friday. Apparantly my lil kiddos are celebrating in full force. No it's not funny to hit your friend with a toy. or wrestle them to the ground. or climb them like a ladder to reach something high. or throw clay at them.

I was a probation officer. Following the actions of above. Many conversations went like this- do you feel like you're ready to be safe with your friend? Let's try again.

I was a ninja. I would like to meet the person who decided which sink to install in my classroom. You really thought a movable faucet would be a great idea in toddler room. Really. Really? You never considered the possibility that toddlers are inquisitive. You never considered the possibility that said toddler might move the faucet (that you chose) so that it no longer is over the sink. Rather, it is now over the counter (or ground, or a friend) and turn on the water. Just to see what will happen. I shake my first at you. My ninja skills and quick reaction time left a mess that was cleaned up by one old beach towel instead of 3. Yes I consider that a victory.

I was a performing artist. Sitting in my box Loving this book right now. I get to act like a grumpy lion, an old elephant, a muddy hippo and a pesky lil flee. Said performing artist charmed the hearts of toddlers all across the land (or at least in the classroom) AND kept them in one corner, occupied for the 20 min it took to clean up from snack. Crumbly biscuits and jelly combine to form a truly nasty sticky paste. Again, who chose this?

I was a security operative. No, you may not knock his tower down. Let's build one just for you that you CAN knock down. This one right here, this is yours. No, not that one, this one. The one right in front of you. This one!

And even on the crappiest of days (see 2 rebellious nappers and 3 who didn't sleep more than 1 hour) the big hugs I get at the end all make up for it. And comments like...oh I should bring you some maker's mark tomorrow. Yes, yes you should.

Conversations overheard

Sally: "I have boobies!"

Abby: "You have boobies? I have boobies."

Sally: "Boobies are private."

Abby: to the teacher "Are boobies private?"

Teacher: "Yep, boobies are private"

thankfully that was the end of the conversation. much better then, "Why do boys have peanuts?"

While wearing super awesome homemade cape costumes..."I'm a super helper!" from a child who refused, refused, refused to help put the toys away during clean up time

Also overheard while running in awesome capes "I'm a superbat!" (clearly better than batman) "I'm superhero!" (although it took several moments to decifer this. Sounded much more like I'm superhobo!)

Thank you awesome kitchen chef for cooking our lunches everyday. And for gathering our snacks. And for cleaning our dirty cups, bowls and toys that we try to eat. But really? Beans and Weenies????

5 pottytrained children. This has to be a record, that's almost half the class! Unfortunately only one potty. Spent most of the afternoon wiping poopy bottoms. Convincing child on the potty to poop faster. Convincing child waiting for the pooty to just hold it in a lil bit longer.

Whew

Now that the crazy busy rush of the holidays are over I feel like I can finally breathe (and count my gift card stash!) The gift card is the traditional teacher gift and I love it. Last year I hauled in over $100 in target cards. And boy did that check out lady hate me when I used 7 different cards to pay for my purchase. This year, the cards are more spread out- some target, some starbucks, some barnes and nobles.

I think I'm most excited about the B&N. You see I have a secret love relationship with B&N. It goes way back. In high school (although we didn't have a B&N) much time was spent grabbing coffee and browsing the latest selection of books. Somehow this tradition continued on with my friends even when we moved away. A phone call- I'm headed to B&N! Several followup texts- check out this book in the new arrivals! mmmm my mocha is amazing! theres a weird guy in the medieval arts section! A "shared" B&N experience from different time zones.

In Cali something happens with sunset. You see, it happens really really early (or so it feels) and once the sun goes down, heading to the beach is not the same (except for night beaching of course) As the sun went down, we grew hopelessly bored so we would trek to the local B&N. We tried learning foreign languages (not me really) tried to achieve New age enlightenment and enjoyed the variety of people watching that any place in Cali brings out.

My relationship with B&N solidified the years I only worked 4 days a week. (Well I did work a weekend day, so in fact it was 5 days) Every Monday I had off. While some Mondays I spent hours on end in my pjs, some Mondays I spent hours on end at B&N. I didn't have much extra cash then (not that I do now in my lucrative position as an educator) so I would traipse to B&N, buy a nice hot mug of coffee, find the book I left off with last week and cozy up in the overstuffed chairs. I had come to discover which B&Ns had the coziest chairs. Not the one at Easton. Here I devoured the latest Nicholas Sparks book, traveled around Ireland with a fridge, and dreamt of adventures to come.

B&N reminds me of my youth, my lazy days with no responsibility. How can I reclaim this? Well tomorrow I will be spending hours on end at the local B&N, we'll see what I figure out.