Teddy!

Today my class had a really unique treat. Mrs. M., a first grade teacher at our school, brought her pet lizard Teddy in for us to meet. Yesterday, when Mrs. M. asked me if my class might like to meet Teddy, I asked a little more about him.

“What kind of lizard is he?” I inquired.

“He’s a Black and White Argentine Tegu,” she answered.

Confession. I had no clue what a Black and White Argentine Tegu was… my experience with pet lizards is limited to geckos and chameleons… so I said, “Sure, the kids would love it.”

Imagine my surprise, when Mrs. M. knocked on my door and came in holding this:

Needless to say, I was taken aback and the class was enthralled with Teddy. Why is his name Teddy? According to Mrs. M., he is cuddly and snuggly like a Teddy Bear. Yeah, right…

Well, wouldn’t you know it, that lizard was, well totally affectionate. He really did seem to love Mrs. M. and want to be close to her. He also liked it when I pet him on his back. Mrs. M. took twenty minutes out of her planning time to come meet my class and share her unique pet with us. We learned a lot about Teddy… I also learned not to judge a lizard by his appearance.

Growth.

Last week on our field trip to the beach, I had a really nice conversation with Sarah’s mother about her.

You see, when the Sarah started kindergarten last year, she was one of the youngest sprouts and, although I’d seemingly forgotten, she couldn’t write her name. Her mother hadn’t failed to remember.

“She’s come such a long way in just one year,” she remarked.

“You’re right… just wait until you see how much she grows in first grade,” I said.

As we sat on the bus chatting about Sarah, I remembered how much help she needed back in August. I remembered writing her name with a yellow highlighter. I remembered holding my hand over hers as she practiced writing her name. I remembered showing her, over and over, how to hold her scissors (‘Thumbs up!’).

As we enter the homestretch it’s easy (at least for me…) to forget where many of my sprouts began… it’s awesome to witness just how far they’ve come.

Lucky.

In the interest of full disclosure, let me start by saying this post has nothing to do with kindergarten, teaching, education, or my classroom. I just spent the last three days with my ninety-year-old plus grandparents (yes, they’re both not only still alive, but quite spry) and while I almost never write about my personal adventures outside the realm of the classroom, I’m about too. Don’t worry, I’ll be back at school tomorrow and we still have a few weeks left… the sprouts shall return!

My grandparents live in a private gated community in Florida. Like all good Jewish folks, they headed straight for the Sunshine State to retire… for the record, my ninety-three year old grandfather swears he hasn’t retired, it’s just that nobody will hire him at his age… he’s quite correct on that matter, but for the record, his mind is still sharper than a tack and he could teach the business men of today a thing or two for sure (although I had to show him how to get all the features of his new HD flat screen TV - isn't that what grandsons are for?).

My grandmother, approaching her ninetieth birthday, has only begun slowing down because her body is forcing her too. Her mind is still going a million miles a minute and she still curses everything about Florida (sorry Floridians) and swears she will move back to New York City one day… the only REALLY great city in the world (her words not mine).

Last night, before leaving, I convinced my grandmother to allow me to cook for them. Something I’ve never done in my entire life… not because I haven’t wanted to take care of them, but my grandmother, like many, is the caregiver, the matriarch, the cook – she makes sure everybody eats what she considers to be enough and nobody else takes that role. For the first time, she stepped back and let me do a little work. It was almost surreal.

This morning, my grandparents dropped me off at the airport… I got a little sad saying goodbye to them. About halfway through my second connecting flight home today I got quite a startle. Without warning, I felt something warm and wet on the calf of my leg… it felt like, well, a tongue. I looked down between my legs and saw a rather large yellow lab licking my leg. I glance behind me and realized the woman behind me was blind and this was her Seeing Eye dog... taking a risk and saying 'Hello' to me.

Now I know you are supposed to ignore these small heroes if they approach or interact with you… after all they are working dogs and need to stay focused. Well this dog was clearly off duty for the time being. I leaned down under the seat and let her lick my hands and then gave her quite a few pets for good measure. I was feeling a little down and she made me smile.

My grandmother, in all her stories this weekend kept saying, over and over again, “We’ve been so lucky”… really, I’m the lucky one.

Label.

Jason has a new toy. Someone in his family gave him an old label maker… remember the old kind where you had to move the dial to each letter and then punch it onto the green sticky tape? Well this new device is quite thrilling for Jason.

He came in and gave Mrs. D. a bracelet with her name on it first. She proudly wore it on her wrist all day long… even though I’m quite sure it wasn’t comfortable and maybe even a little bit painful for her. That’s what you do when you get a gift from a sprout… you wear it with pride… even if you need a band-aid or get a rash.

When Jason promised, “Yours is coming tomorrow,” I got nervous.

Unlike Mrs. D., I’ve got hair on my wrists, and that bracelet was going to hurt. I devised a plan… the label would go on my glasses instead! Genius!

When Jason presented me with my own label (with my last name misspelled, but naturally not mentioned by me), I proudly placed it on the arm of my glasses. As everyone arrived, they commented on my label.

As the day wore on, I forgot about my label. Always there to remind me of anything out of the ordinary, the other adults in the school all commented on my label… No, I didn’t forget my name… No, I don’t need my name on my glasses in case I get lost…

When I got in my car to go home, I saw my reflection in the rear view mirror and removed my label… I proudly put it on the dashboard of my car. I don’t usually like to be labeled as this or that, but when the label is from Jason, I’ll humbly accept it.

Maybelle.

One of my favorite parts about teaching kindergarten is sharing my love of books with my sprouts. Everyone has favorite authors and stories, but sometimes an older book comes seemingly out of nowhere and catches you by surprise. Today, Maybelle poked me on the shoulder and said, “Hey, here I am!”

Last winter we read Katy and the Big Snow by Virgina Lee Burton and did some amazing map projects with it. We’ve slowly been reading through her books and Maybelle the Cable Car is one I’d personally never read. As an afternoon treat, we read it and had the most wonderful time.

The story of San Francisco’s unique cable cars and their struggle to stay running in the face of the newer, trendier busses, Maybelle the Cable Car is a charming tale about honoring what makes a place (or person) unique. Maybelle and her sister cars fight the buses and eventually have the entire city behind them. Told with a rhyming verse and Virginia Lee Burton’s charming illustrations, Maybelle the Cable Car had my class cheering.

Now, unless you teach kindergarten in San Francisco, most kindergartners don’t know what a cable car is… we had a wonderful chat about them, the city, and I pulled up some photographs online to show them what a real cable car looked like.

We also talked about how as the world progresses and newer and cooler stuff come along, it’s always good to honor and cherish those things that we truly love. Video games are amazing, but we still love our Lego’s. DVDs (and now Blu Rays) are awesome, but there is something special about sitting in the theater and watching a film on the big screen with an audience. A Kindle is cool, but nothing beats holding a picture book in your hands and sharing it with your class.

Thank you Maybelle for helping us see that sometimes a classic shouldn't be forgotten.

Earring.

This morning, in the quiet hubbub of arrival time, Penny came up to me with her hand out, holding something precious.

“Mr. ______, the back of my earring fell off,” she said.

Uh-oh. Another area of expertise I’m quite lacking in. The last time I tried to fix Nicole's hair, she looked like she took a very long ride in a convertible on a windy day.

“Um, hold on a second,” I replied and walked over to fetch Mrs. D.

Mrs. D. calmly fixed the broken earring for Penny.

When she finished, I remarked, “It’s a good thing you’re hear Mrs. D. – I am no good at earrings.”

“Girls simply cannot be without their earrings, Mr. ______,” she smiled.

With that, Penny skipped off to begin her reading. Another disaster averted.

Root Beer.

Well, I suppose I’m getting older. Yesterday I did something at school (I’m not sure what) and hurt my back. I was in pretty bad pain last night and this morning, while a bit better, I was still not myself. Before leaving, I popped more than a few Advil, and then placed one of those Ben-Gay patches on my back to provide heat to help the muscles relax.

I was wondering if my sprouts would notice the smell of the patch. It’s not super strong, but I can certainly smell it. All day long, not a word. Then at bus time, as Alexander was chatting with me, he apparently caught a whiff.

“Mr. _______, you smell like… like root beer,” he said.

“Hmmm – I guess it does smell a little like root beer,” I replied.

When the last children left, I headed to the nurse and asked her to remove my root beer patch. Hopefully, I won’t need it tomorrow… although I do love root beer.