Xylophone.

Today, after reading Iza Trapani’s I’m a Little Teapot (we’re having a read aloud with her tomorrow via Skyle… SO cool), Mrs. D. showed the class the music she put on the last page of the book.

“If we had a musical instrument and someone knew how to play, we could play the notes to the song,” she explained.

“If we only had a piano, I could play it for you,” I added.

Everyone looked surprised. I’m no virtuoso, but I took piano lessons as a child and I can tap out notes and play a few random songs (Lean On Me is my go to song of choice).

“Well, how about this?” Mrs. D. asked.

She handed me the small children’s xylophone we use to get the class’ attention. When we play a few notes, the children stop what they’re doing, turn their voices off, and place their hands on their heads. We don’t usually play any actual songs, so this was going to be a first.

I balanced the xylophone and opened book on my lap and began tapping out the notes. This was not Carnegie Hall and I was not going to win America’s Got Talent, but when I finished the last note, the class erupted in wild applause. I was a hit.

When we finished reading Iza Trapini’s version of The Itsy Bitsy Spider and the class saw the notes, I was put in the spotlight again. Again, I was lavished with rapturous applause.

I’m contemplating going on the road with my xylophone. I hear U2 is looking for an opening act. If you asked my sprouts, I’d be a shoe in.

Spoon.

Last week we read Spoon by one of my favorite children’s authors, Amy Krouse Rosenthall. The story about a little spoon that envies his friends lives (“And Chopsticks! They are so lucky! Everyone thinks they’re really cool and exotic.”), but eventually learns he’s actually lucky to be a spoon just warms my heart.

At the end of the story, Spoon finally jumps into bed (a drawer) with his parents and, you guessed it, spoons. Well, have you ever tried explaining what ‘spooning’ means to a group of kindergarteners? It’s not easy.

“Have you ever snuggled in bed with your parents like Spoon does?” I asked.

Lots of heads nodding.

“Well when you spoon, you would lay in front of your mom or dad and kind of fit like two spoons,” I explained.

Lots of perplexed looks.

“Hang on,” I said, running to grab some plastic spoons.

“See how they just fit inside of each other perfectly?” I asked.

“Well, if you lay in front of your mom or dad, with your back to them, that’s spooning,” I continued.

“But, we’re not spoons,” offered Ricky.

My mind began to wonder if this was making any sense and with that I said what comes out of my mouth way too often, “Anyway, moving along…”

In any event, the book is a wonderful story about self-acceptance and I never tire of reading it year after year. Next time, perhaps I’ll leave the ‘spooning’ lesson out.

Changes.

This week, I was greeted with a wonderful surprise. When we returned from our winter break I was nervous about the behaviors I might encounter after so much time off. To my delight, not only were there no behavior issues from our respite, but the friends who struggled with some of our class rules had seemingly grown up.

A few little boys who often spent time in our Rest Stop thinking about their actions had just simply stopped their trips to the chair. Our first day back, I thought they were either tired or in shock about their return to school. By the second and third day back, I knew something had shifted. By Friday, I was on could nine… my little kindergartners were becoming first graders before my eyes.

We have a lot more to learn before our time together is over and it appears my sprouts are just a little more serious about school. To be clear, we still are having fun, dancing and singing our hearts out and finding time for silliness… but when it’s time to focus on our learning, it seems we’re all a lot more focused now.

The hugs haven’t diminished either. In fact, they seem to have increased. Perhaps it was the time away from each other or maybe it’s just a realization that, after our one hundredth day together, our time is limited, but whatever the reason, the hugs are constant. What I love most are the hugs from kids who almost never offer them up… like a rare gem, when I’m least expecting it, I’ll feel arms wrapped around me, look down and see a face I wasn’t expecting.

I am always telling my class you never stop learning… I often use myself as an example and try to highlight when I learn something new. This week, I discovered the magic of March in kindergarten… and those pesky enchanted leprechauns haven’t even visited us yet.

Mrs. Brown.

Today I had a Mrs. Brown moment. She was my fifth grade teacher and she always made comments typical of a fifty-ish year-old school teacher with thirty somewhat years experience. I wasn’t proud of my comment, I don’t think it offended the child, but it still mortified me that it came out of my mouth.

This morning, as Mrs. D. was in the middle of a story, I looked up and saw Martin holding this:

He was swinging it back and forth and, I can only assume, trying to figure out what it was.  It looked like either a nest of some sort or part of a dead carcass.  I had no clue what it was and here is what came out of my mouth, “Martin Jones, what on heaven and earth are you doing?”

The moment it came out of my mouth, I felt like a fifty-ish year-old school teacher with thirty somewhat years experience. It wasn’t a mean or inappropriate thing to say… I’m pretty sure nobody was hurt or offended… I didn’t raise my voice… but it just wasn’t me.

After taking it away and investigating with Mrs. D. it turns out the offending object was a girl’s hair scrunchie (or is it scrunchy? I will never master the ins and outs of girls hair). We returned it and moved on with our day… but my Mrs. Brown comment haunted me the rest of the day.

Marbles.

I forgot this funny tidbit from our one-hundredth day… Audra had brought in her collection of marbles to count. She diligently counted and recounted them with no issue. We even gave her a tray to use so they wouldn’t roll around the room.

At the end of the day, Audra raised her hand, I walked over and she showed me four loose marbles.

“Oh Audra, you better put those with your others, you don’t want to lose them,” I warned.

“No, Mr. ________, these aren’t mine…” she began.

I cut her off with, “Wait, I didn’t think anyone else brought in marbles…”

“They didn’t, someone has lost their marbles!” She exclaimed.

Not being familiar with this idiom, she didn’t get the humor in her statement, but I sure did and wanted to share the joke.

I shouted across the classroom to Mrs. D., “Mrs. D. someone has lost their marbles!”

She laughed and I repeated myself a few times for added effect.

We identified the owner of said marbles and headed home for the day.

100 ways.

Oh the one hundredth day of school… I try to explain it to my non-teacher friends and they just don’t get it. It’s like Christmas, Valentines, and the Fourth of July all on one day. Maybe it’s something about kindergarten and the fact that it is their first hundred days in school, period… whatever the reason, the exhilaration is palpable.

During calendar time, as Jason did the careful work of counting our straws to make sure we indeed had one hundred, the grounds crew decided to remove the icy, crunchy snow that had piled up to almost the top of our windows… with shovels, at the exact moment he began counting… the shades were pulled and we talked about ignoring distractions, but it was hard.

As Mrs. D. read the first of many read alouds about the one hundredth day of school, the first page read, ‘Little Johnny came to school and plinked a penny into a jar. Mrs. Madoff told him his would be the first penny in the class jar.’

Yes, Mrs. Madoff. Mrs. D. burst out laughing… I let out a howl. The class looked at us like we had ten heads. It really is nice having another adult to appreciate references that fly over the kids heads.

When each sprout was counting their collection of one hundred items they’d brought in, I heard a desperate Rebecca call out, “One of my marshmallows, it’s missing!”

I ran over.

“Rebecca, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“My one hundredth marshmallow, it’s gone… Luther ate it!” She cried.

I shot a look at Luther. He looked guilty, but he always looks guilty.

“I didn’t eat it, Mr. _______, I’m being honest,” he proclaimed.

With that, Mrs. D. wandered over.

I explained the dilemma to her.

“Well, Rebecca, you’re missing a marshmallow because you ate one… remember you thought you had an extra?” She asked Rebecca.

“Oh yeah…”

Later as we made our necklaces with one hundred pieces of Fruit Loops, Sarah made me bust out laughing again.

We had instructed the class not to eat any cereal as they counted and worked. We were using communal plates of cereal and we promised when we finished the necklaces everyone would get a small cup to eat. This satisfied the kids and while they moaned and groaned about how amazing the cereal smelled and how they all wanted to eat it so badly, nobody did.

As we finished and I was about to announce we were ready to pass out the cereal for eating, I glanced over at Sarah… her necklace was in her hands and she was gingerly licking it. I lost it… laughter that probably alarmed the teacher next door. Oh well, it was funny.

There were probably one hundred ways I laughed or smiled today. Loving your sprouts and job is a brilliant way to spend your day.

Welcome.

This morning, as I was driving into work after eleven days away (our winter break plus a few tacked on days for snow), I had a revelation. As I was driving up a steep hill, something hit me… the sun. It was rising over a mountain and splashed across my face. I wasn’t driving to work in the dark anymore and somehow I knew this was a fantastic way to begin my day.

We had the unique opportunity of welcoming a new student today. The later they arrive in the year the more challenging it can be to make a new sprout feel welcome and safe. Mrs. D. and I made sure to review all the classroom rules and expectations and most of the time it was our students, not us, who were doing the teaching.

During sharing, a few children shared they were glad our new friend had joined our class. This after a long vacation, most likely filled with exciting events to share. They saw her as someone who might be feeling scared or nervous and stepped right up to the plate to take her in and make her feel at home.

In addition to the excitement of a new friend, my other friends were just so darn happy to be back it was hard not to share in their joy. When I picked them up from Art, the smile I got from Luther was alarming... he was genuinely thrilled to see me. Overall the day was filled with hugs and smiling and everyone on their best behavior... it was truly a gift to be their teacher today.

I know our new friend will settle in after a week or two… Mrs. D. and will be sure to set clear expectations and praise every positive move she makes, but it’s our class, with their patient, warm, and loving hearts that will ultimately lead to her success.