And I'm Off...
One of the reasons that I am a preschool teacher right now is that it's rather flexible. I'm paid hourly and allowed to take unpaid time off if I choose. I'm not roped into any long term responsibilities. It is a job to tide me over until graduate school or, worst case scenario, a more "career" like job related to writing if I don't get accepted. Plus, I get to play all day, every day. I get to teach little munchkins and have the immediate reward of seeing that knowledge be remembered, be put into application. And I get to quit to take off to Europe for three weeks! (We leave of Wednesday, yay!)
And so, Friday was my last day in my Toddler III classroom, populated with 16 of the sweetest kids I've known, though their memomy may be sweetened in my mind because I'm not going to have to deal with their evil sides any longer--no more making them clean up, no more lining up, no more "sit on your bottoms" at circle time, no more biting and hitting. But here is my photo montage commemoration of the time I got to spend being a part of their lives, the great memories and round faces. Just imagine a swelling orchestra of sound in the background and grab a kleenex.
Recipe for Instant Bubbles:
Dish Soap + A Twisted Pipe Cleaner = Hours, no, Minutes of Fun
(minutes because of a short attention span and a propensity for spilling)
"If you're ready to go outside, put your hands on your head."
Notice the little feet on the floor, showing them where to line up.
Meet my allergy boy, who cannot consume:
wheat, milk, soy, peanuts, banana, strawberry (that we know of so far)
He once erupted in hives from merely touching some spilt milk and rubbing his eye.
Truck! Truck!
I miss my truck boy, who no longer attends our school, even though he did bite my ass. Sniff.
When you're two, it's still okay for boys to play dress up.
He's a Fireboy. And when a girl wears it, she's a Firegirl.
We are very PC around here.
Welcome to the Kitchen, aka Home Living center, where everything you are served is called pizza or coffee. Remember to blow on the coffee or you will be reminded that it's hot.
Take a look at that nose!
Somebody has allergies.
Say "Cheese."
No, we can't say "queso" because that doesn't make you look like you're smiling, silly.
Water play.
No, the baby isn't drowning. She's taking a bath.
The challenge is not how tall they can build it,
but how long they can wait before knocking the whole thing down, Godzilla style.
And so, Friday was my last day in my Toddler III classroom, populated with 16 of the sweetest kids I've known, though their memomy may be sweetened in my mind because I'm not going to have to deal with their evil sides any longer--no more making them clean up, no more lining up, no more "sit on your bottoms" at circle time, no more biting and hitting. But here is my photo montage commemoration of the time I got to spend being a part of their lives, the great memories and round faces. Just imagine a swelling orchestra of sound in the background and grab a kleenex.
Recipe for Instant Bubbles:Dish Soap + A Twisted Pipe Cleaner = Hours, no, Minutes of Fun
(minutes because of a short attention span and a propensity for spilling)
"If you're ready to go outside, put your hands on your head."Notice the little feet on the floor, showing them where to line up.
Meet my allergy boy, who cannot consume:wheat, milk, soy, peanuts, banana, strawberry (that we know of so far)
He once erupted in hives from merely touching some spilt milk and rubbing his eye.
Truck! Truck!I miss my truck boy, who no longer attends our school, even though he did bite my ass. Sniff.
When you're two, it's still okay for boys to play dress up.He's a Fireboy. And when a girl wears it, she's a Firegirl.
We are very PC around here.
Welcome to the Kitchen, aka Home Living center, where everything you are served is called pizza or coffee. Remember to blow on the coffee or you will be reminded that it's hot.
Take a look at that nose!Somebody has allergies.
Say "Cheese."No, we can't say "queso" because that doesn't make you look like you're smiling, silly.
Water play.No, the baby isn't drowning. She's taking a bath.
The challenge is not how tall they can build it,but how long they can wait before knocking the whole thing down, Godzilla style.
Goodbye to all my munchkins. I say it now in cyberspace to preserve it--they cannot seem to understand right now. I tried to explain it to them on Friday.
"This is my last day here at school."
"Teacher Gnomey is at school."
"But I'm not going to go to school with you anymore."
"Tomorrow I get to stay home with Dad."
"Yes but you will have a new teacher now."
"I like Teacher Gnomey."
Sigh.
The job is stressful. No question. But the kids... the kids themselves I will always miss. I hope they will miss me too but am comforted by their short memories. They will retain the learning but forget the face. Good luck to the two teachers remaining in the room. Please take good care of these budding humans.
"This is my last day here at school."
"Teacher Gnomey is at school."
"But I'm not going to go to school with you anymore."
"Tomorrow I get to stay home with Dad."
"Yes but you will have a new teacher now."
"I like Teacher Gnomey."
Sigh.
The job is stressful. No question. But the kids... the kids themselves I will always miss. I hope they will miss me too but am comforted by their short memories. They will retain the learning but forget the face. Good luck to the two teachers remaining in the room. Please take good care of these budding humans.
posted by Gnomey G at 12:51 PM
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