But working in his preschool class today, I realized there are others out there that put his three-ness to shame. Big time. I spent the whole day thinking, I do this 4 hours a month. How do the teachers do it 4 hours a day?!
Apparently they have a gift too. One that passed me by. Sure, I love those
snotty adorable little faces, but here are just a few of the reasons I’m not a preschool teacher (and have huge respect for those who are).
#1- The question of we. “Is that how we treat our friends?” “Are we using our listening ears?” “Do we hit our friends over the head with a metal dump truck?” No. It’s that simple in my world. No. I guess “we” need to work on using our words.
#2- Potty training. So far I haven’t done so hot with the two I’ve been responsible for. I certainly shouldn’t be given 20 little bottoms to tame.
#3- Sniff. Sniff. (Nope, not to runny noses. Yet.) Oh, I guess I should have mentioned this before the potty training one. You know, the ones who aren’t potty trained. Well, they walk around with a special scent. And my sense of smell is like a pregnant woman on steroids. (I’m not sure steroids improve your sense of smell, but work with me here.)
#4- Green fingers. (Still not talking about runny noses. Yet.) I’m guessing the color is different day by day. But today we were painting pinecone trees. Let’s just say, if I’m going to have my hands dipped in something, it had better be paraffin wax.
#5- The three S’s. Snot, spit and slurring, of course. All of them leave sleeves, hands and faces uncomfortably wet. And I don’t just mean the offender’s.
#6- This ref is biased. I’ll admit, I play favorites. When something goes down and I’m called in, I know who was likely to have started it and that’s where I go to end it. (And, of course, it’s not my kid.)
#7- Free play. Giving 13 three-year olds reign over baskets full of toys (which, surprisingly include two anatomically correct baby dolls of differing genders) is pure insanity. No matter how many toys there are, everyone wants something someone else beat them to—and with, thanks to the grabby chaos that followed. It leads to meltdowns, screaming, tears—yep, I’m worse than the kids.
So, preschool teachers far and wide, I salute you. I find myself in awe of all that you do to help these precious little
monsters kids stay alive smile, learn and make friends. Please keep it up so parents like me can continue to have an itty bitty break from the madness—a few hours, a couple times a week. And we’ll keep doing our best to send you well-behaved, well-mannered, thoughtful kids. Because parents, we’re all raising good little girls and boys, aren’t we?