So, now that I'm getting much bigger, I'm getting myself up off the floor much like someone who is balancing a glass plate on her head. I have to lean back, brace myself sideways, push up off the ground with my arms, carefully walk my arms up my legs and then I'm there (whew!)
The hilarious part- this is now exactly how each and every member of my classroom is standing up from the rug! Ah, my minions...
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
H2O- future OB-GYN
I just love my unconventional students. Nothing against the boring ones that turn in their homework and stand in line and tuck in their shirts- I just wish they would climb a cabinet or develop a perseveration every once in a blue moon.
So, another H2O story.
At the end of a hairy day shortly after school resumed in January, I lined up the rugrats at the door for dismissal and their daily pep-talk.
Me: "Listen up, folks! Tomorrow is a NEW day. A day where I will not give the same direction to six different children regarding tipping in your chairs- if I tell Very Young Boy that he may not tilt in his chair, then by golly Confused Girl, don't stare directly at me while tipping in your chair. You know what I'll say."
Confused Girl: "Mrs. Clarateaches, I like your shirt. And your hair."
Me: "Thank you, CG- but please tell me what I just said about tipping in your chair."
Confused Girl: "Mrs. Clarateaches, how come you said 'your chair'?"
During this dizzying exchange, H2O, who was the line leader for the week, was busily patting my belly as though he had a small fire to put out. His head was tilted to one side, and he was smiling and nodding slowly like he was involved with an engaging conversation with my belly button. This would have been disconcerting without the Amelia Bedelia pattering of Confused Girl, but together the effect was really quite something.
Me: "H2O, why in the name of all that is holy are you manhandling me?"
H2O: *great big grin* "I'm petting your baby!"
Hooooooo boy.
How the heck did he know?
That's right, readers. I am currently gestating. Clarateaches Jr. will arrive sometime mid-July, and is currently at 16 weeks. That means he/she/ dear God them? is the size of a large avocado right now. At the time of H2O's mysterious voodoo though, I wasn't really showing, and had no real intentions of telling the class until it was fairly obvious.
The line exploded.
Theological Boy: "Nuh-uhhh, No she's not..."
Super Girl: "Can I see it?"
Confused Girl: "Baby Jesus?"
So, I told them that sometime after we closed shop for the summer, I would be having a baby. And ever since then, I've been fielding questions about when I'm going to bring my baby in. I keep telling them to just wait until I'm large enough to take someone out with one turn of my belly. After all, they're about that height.
So, another H2O story.
At the end of a hairy day shortly after school resumed in January, I lined up the rugrats at the door for dismissal and their daily pep-talk.
Me: "Listen up, folks! Tomorrow is a NEW day. A day where I will not give the same direction to six different children regarding tipping in your chairs- if I tell Very Young Boy that he may not tilt in his chair, then by golly Confused Girl, don't stare directly at me while tipping in your chair. You know what I'll say."
Confused Girl: "Mrs. Clarateaches, I like your shirt. And your hair."
Me: "Thank you, CG- but please tell me what I just said about tipping in your chair."
Confused Girl: "Mrs. Clarateaches, how come you said 'your chair'?"
During this dizzying exchange, H2O, who was the line leader for the week, was busily patting my belly as though he had a small fire to put out. His head was tilted to one side, and he was smiling and nodding slowly like he was involved with an engaging conversation with my belly button. This would have been disconcerting without the Amelia Bedelia pattering of Confused Girl, but together the effect was really quite something.
Me: "H2O, why in the name of all that is holy are you manhandling me?"
H2O: *great big grin* "I'm petting your baby!"
Hooooooo boy.
How the heck did he know?
That's right, readers. I am currently gestating. Clarateaches Jr. will arrive sometime mid-July, and is currently at 16 weeks. That means he/she/ dear God them? is the size of a large avocado right now. At the time of H2O's mysterious voodoo though, I wasn't really showing, and had no real intentions of telling the class until it was fairly obvious.
The line exploded.
Theological Boy: "Nuh-uhhh, No she's not..."
Super Girl: "Can I see it?"
Confused Girl: "Baby Jesus?"
So, I told them that sometime after we closed shop for the summer, I would be having a baby. And ever since then, I've been fielding questions about when I'm going to bring my baby in. I keep telling them to just wait until I'm large enough to take someone out with one turn of my belly. After all, they're about that height.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Baby Steps
One of my tasks at this school is to teach five year olds how to pray. This involves just a few basic things- asking forgiveness of sins, giving thanks for blessings, and prayer requests.
An excerpt from today, Day 81 of the school year:
Super Girl and Theological Boy take the stage. They tussle for a few moments about who has to go first, and Super Girl caves first.
Super Girl: "Ok everybody- fold your hands... close your eyes... (shoots a glare to Very Young Boy, who is trying to squint so his eyes remain open)... bow your heads. Dear God, thanks for giving us sins. Um... (looks at me)"
Me: (stage whisper) "Thanks for blessings..."
Super Girl: "Oh yeah! Thanks for lessons, and thanks for my friend, and I'm going to her house today! Did I tell you that Mrs. Clarateaches? We're going to play Barbies-"
Me: "Super Girl, tell it to God. We're praying."
Super Girl: "Oh yeah!"
This goes on and on, until it's Theological Boy's turn. TB takes a different approach to prayer. He sees this time as his own personal time to air grievances, and publicly denounce his peers' sins while they are required to stay silent.
Theological Boy: "Dear Lord, give us our sins. God, tell H2O to eat his lunch so he isn't crabby at the end of the day. Tell Confused Girl that she's not making right choices when she keeps on picking on H2O. And she keeps smacking me with her hair, God. That's pretty bad. And tell Super Girl to chew with her mouth shut-"
Me: "AHEM."
Theological Boy: "What? Well, it's gross. We're trying to eat." (sighs) "Anyway God, make them make right choices."
TB then makes his way back to his seat, while his peers form alliances against him.
There is some happy news for the day- I gave my 19 weeks notice! They seemed bummed, but didn't seem too surprised. Upward and onward, my friends. Just four days shy of five months to go, and it will all be a dream...
An excerpt from today, Day 81 of the school year:
Super Girl and Theological Boy take the stage. They tussle for a few moments about who has to go first, and Super Girl caves first.
Super Girl: "Ok everybody- fold your hands... close your eyes... (shoots a glare to Very Young Boy, who is trying to squint so his eyes remain open)... bow your heads. Dear God, thanks for giving us sins. Um... (looks at me)"
Me: (stage whisper) "Thanks for blessings..."
Super Girl: "Oh yeah! Thanks for lessons, and thanks for my friend, and I'm going to her house today! Did I tell you that Mrs. Clarateaches? We're going to play Barbies-"
Me: "Super Girl, tell it to God. We're praying."
Super Girl: "Oh yeah!"
This goes on and on, until it's Theological Boy's turn. TB takes a different approach to prayer. He sees this time as his own personal time to air grievances, and publicly denounce his peers' sins while they are required to stay silent.
Theological Boy: "Dear Lord, give us our sins. God, tell H2O to eat his lunch so he isn't crabby at the end of the day. Tell Confused Girl that she's not making right choices when she keeps on picking on H2O. And she keeps smacking me with her hair, God. That's pretty bad. And tell Super Girl to chew with her mouth shut-"
Me: "AHEM."
Theological Boy: "What? Well, it's gross. We're trying to eat." (sighs) "Anyway God, make them make right choices."
TB then makes his way back to his seat, while his peers form alliances against him.
There is some happy news for the day- I gave my 19 weeks notice! They seemed bummed, but didn't seem too surprised. Upward and onward, my friends. Just four days shy of five months to go, and it will all be a dream...
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