I finished the morning bone tired, hoarse, and barely able to remember what we had done. I went home to nap and was too tired to sleep.
I do remember that there were beans, and glue. There was learning how to fold your legs (you wouldn’t think I’d have to teach that, but I do), how to raise your hand, and how to keep your hands in your lap (aka. stop hitting the kid in front of you). There were name tags. And more name tags. And name tags galore. There was the new girl I only found out about when she arrived. There was the other new girl, who was on my list but was supposed to be on the afternoon class list, or so I thought. It turned out in the end that she did belong in my class, but she’d spent the entire morning hanging out with the social worker.
There was one white kid (a first in my class; usually I have three or four). There were two kids whose first language is English; many more whose first language is Spanish, Somali, or Vietnamese. There was only one mom I had to encourage to leave. There was a trip around the school, and there was learning how to walk in line. There was meeting the principal, and learning how to wait for the bus.
There was recess, and for one little guy, there was a very first time out. And then…there were tears.
Then it was time to go, and there was wiggling, and learning how to sit, and learning the bus driver’s name.
And then there was a mutual chorus of I love yous.