T-ball and tiaras.

Well the power of the Royal Wedding is supreme. It managed to infiltrate the walls of my kindergarten class yesterday… no doubt due to the fact that while all my little sprouts were getting ready for school they’re parents were glued to the nuptials.

As each little girl filtered into the room, something was mentioned about the dress, the wedding, the PRINCESS. It was all about the princess... the Disney marketing machine is powerful and the allure of a REAL princess was overwhelming. My favorite comment was from Audra who asked me, “Did you see that show on TV about the wedding?”

During Sharing Time, every single little girl shared something about ‘the princess’… there was a fascination with her dress, particularly, the tiara. I couldn’t help but laugh at the pattern of comments… to keep talking down to a minimum, we sit in a boy/girl pattern in our circle and the comments were also in a pattern… T-ball, tiara, T-ball, tiara… T-ball season starts this weekend and almost every boy shared his excitement over hitting off the T.

During dress up, we had more princesses than ever. Wedding reenactments were in full swing. The fever had taken over… when Betsy commented, “The other prince isn’t married yet!” I knew the royal frenzy had hit its peak. I’m hoping by Monday it’s died down just a little… we only have so many tiaras in the Dress Up bin.

Details.

Today, we our amazing third grade reading buddies had a special treat for us… they brought some of the personal narrative stories to share with us. As luck would have it, we’ve been working on trying to add more detail to our own stories to make them more interesting (not an easy task in kindergarten) and having our older buddies share their own writing with us turned out to be an unexpected perfect way to model the importance of details to a story.

As the children read with their buddies, I could see a few kindergarten eyeballs pop… these third graders were brilliant writers. They clearly knew what they were doing and maybe my sprouts could learn a thing or two from them.

When they left and we shared some of the stories they’d heard, the details all bubbled to the surface.

“My buddy wrote about a visit to a haunted house… there were skeletons, mummies, zombies, and a trail of bloody footprints!” One sprout shared.

“My buddy went to a fair and went on a rollercoaster, ate lots of food, played games, and had a really fun time,” another offered.

All these details are what make good writing, great writing. As much as we try to model with mentor texts and our own writing, nothing Mrs. D. or I could use is as powerful as the writing of a third grade buddy.

Force.

Two things I love and am not afraid to admit are Legos and Star Wars. There is actually a Star Wars Legos video game that is heaven… the kids know I love Star Wars as I have quite a few t-shirts with R2-D2 and C-3PO I wear from time to time… today, during centers, Andy called me over to show me his creation.

I was really impressed with his creativity. Out of regular Legos (not the super cool Star Wars kits – we don’t have those at school), he’d created a Star Wars fighter ship and two characters… Darth Vader and his ‘alien friend’ – my amazement was palpable and quite a few boys came sauntering over to see what the hubbub was all about.

I sat and played with Andy for awhile… I made my own Luke Skywalker ‘man’ by copying his model and we had a little light saber fight… as Andy pointed out, light sabers are NOT guns, so we were allowed. I agreed and we had a little fantasy battle. I let him win.

When I got up to leave, he stopped me by grabbing my hand, pulled me back down to his level, gave me a big smile and said, “May the force be with you!” Indeed, it was.

Affection.

This afternoon, as I dismissed the class to get ready to go home, Evelyn hung back, standing a few feet away from me, just looking up at me. Clearly she wanted to tell or ask me something, so I took the bait.

“Do you need something?” I inquired.

She didn’t reply. She hesitated for a moment and then, with quite a bit of gusto, dove in for a tight hug.

That’s all she wanted. A hug… which naturally got me thinking about hugs and affection in our classroom.

Some sprouts can’t get enough hugs… they grab one whenever the opportunity arises, and often, even when it’s not the best time, like when the class is loud and I’m trying to quiet them, someone will lurk up to me and steal a hug. These are the sprouts that always seem to want contact... when they know a hug might not be right, they reach up and take your hand or lean on your shoulder when you're taking a brief moment to sit down.

Others almost never offer a hug. They’re sweet and kind, but for whatever reason, they don’t particularly want or need hugs… and then, out of the blue, they do. Like Eveylyn today. I think this might have been only the second or third time she’s wanted a hug all year.

Sometimes I think those rare hugs are extra special because I know a lot of thought and affection went into them… on the other hand, the ones that never stop hugging me are special too. I suppose pondering which type of hug is best is a good problem to have.

Etiquette.

With two teachers and double the number of kids, walking in line in the hallway has become an art form. Usually one of us takes the front and the other the back. It works well because between the two of us, we can see almost the entire line.

Today, as I waited to take my place at the end of our line to head out for recess, the kids walked by waving, smiling, and hugging me.

Martin walked out of his place in line, approached me and said, “Mr. _______, can I take your hand and walk with you, please and thank you.”

What? ‘Please and thank you’? Really? This was something new… and for one of the few times in my day, I was speechless for a moment.

“Um, sure Martin,” I replied.

I mean really, how could I argue with such etiquette?

He reached up took my hand and we walked out.

I looked down at him and he said, “You said ‘yes’ because I’m so nice, right?”

“Partly… also because you asked so politely,” I answered.

With that we headed outside to play.

Remedy.

Let me start today with a confession. This morning, after my alarm went off and I was shuffling around trying to get my act together after a week off from school for Spring Break, I had a bratty baby moment… when nobody was listening, I whined a little… it was something like, ‘I don’t wanna go back to work’ in the most pathetic voice you can imagine.

Well, I did go in, and about two seconds after eight o’clock, when the first few sprouts skipped in, I felt much better. There really is something about smiles and hugs from five-year-olds that can brighten your day and make work, well, not really work.

As the day went on, I expected to become increasingly tired… I’m still fighting off bronchitis and am not quite back to my true self. It didn’t happen. The hugs, smiles, and stories just kept coming and kept me alert and ready. On the drive home my day finally caught up with me, but when I’m there, with the kids, experiencing our joy together, I’ve got the best remedy you could ask for.

Size.

No matter what they say, size does matter. Class size that is. Having only taught in one area of the country, my class sizes have always stayed rather uniform. When I taught second grade, I would have as many as twenty-three, which seemed like a lot. In kindergarten I’ve had as much as twenty, which, when they’re all there, seems like a whole lot. Funny thing is, many teachers have more… much more.

Obviously, the number of children in your room directly affects how much attention a teacher is able to give to each one, but class size goes deeper. In a kindergarten room, where you need room to move, stretch, dance, and play, the more bodies, the less space you have… as I found out last year, they start of like tiny munchkins, but by June they’re a whole lot bigger and take up a lot more room. Last year, with every straw we added to tally the number of days in school, our circle kept getting more ‘cozy’.

I’m not sure if there is data to back this up (I tried to find out, but gave up after awhile…), but it appears the closer you teach to a major city, the more kids you have. Obviously with a more dense population, you’re going to have more people to serve, but I have to imagine in bigger cities those kids have bigger challenges and could really benefit from smaller class sizes. When I read a reader in Baltimore had thirty-three students, another in Malibu had forty-two, and another poor teacher has so many sprouts two of them have to sit on the floor because she ran out of table space, my heart sank a little for each of them. I know they give it their all and do the best they possibly can, but forty-two kids with one teacher is just simply to many.

With budgets being slashed left and right I keep reading that class sizes are only going to be bigger… I can’t help but think that the politicians, and maybe even voters, who suggest and agree to this have no clue how it impacts the learning and success of children. What can we do? Unfortunately not a whole lot… parents have the power. I try to empower the parents in my classroom community to speak up and advocate for their children.

Here’s hoping our class sizes get smaller so every sprout can get the time and attention they deserve.  What are your thoughts on class size?