(no subject)
i always have problems with endings... of course... but i have lotsa time to work on it. haha. enjoy again.
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You. Little. Demonic. Creature.
Can’t you just stay in one place? I don’t understand it! When we first met you were so cute and smiley, and used to greet me with that adorable, “Hi Sawa!” and completely brighten my day. You used to be so patient and would never think to run down the hall, or scream in class, or make me feel like a child abuser while I tried desperately to prevent you from running straight into oncoming traffic. What happened? It’s like a sugar bomb exploded in your little underdeveloped brain and slowly the moon began to block the sun and left me in the darkness.
I walked into Preschool Lab with a dull pounding in my temples and nauseous feeling in my stomach. Today wasn’t exactly the greatest for me, and to top it all off, half the high school teachers were missing. I not only had to take care of the 3-year-old Jekyll and Hyde, but someone else’s kid as well. “Hi Michael!” I said overenthusiastically as I approached him playing Memory.
Silence.
I barely got an eye to blink. “Whatcha doin, bud?” I asked eagerly.
Nothin. Nada. Zip. Jack squat. I could probably start chucking jello-filled water balloons at his face and he wouldn’t notice. I was beginning to wonder if he was still breathing.
The girl he was playing with responded for him. “We’re playing Memory.” All of a sudden, as though someone took a pin to the shiny, rubbery-exterior of a red balloon, Michael exploded into life. He then proceeded to sprawl out over the table, sending Memory cards flying. “Ok Michael, let’s not throw the cards around everywhere, shall we?” Selective hearing is apparently found in people other than teenagers, for Michael then began to pick up cards and throw them like confetti all around the room. “No Michael, hey I thought we were playing Memory, not having a birthday party! You goof!”
Just keep calm Sara… just… breathe… Only 45 minutes left. I then felt a tug on my pants and immediately stare down at his innocent looking face. Be careful, Michael, your fangs are showing. “Whoaa let’s not pull down my pants, please. Hey look! Memory! What a fun game!” I tried so hard to get him re-interested in the game but all attempts failed. Houston… we have a problem.
Before I could say anything else Michael started running around the room screaming. Here we go again, I thought, as I took a deep breath and put on my happy face. It can’t get much worse than this. I jump up to my feet and follow him to the sand box, where I found him throwing sand around everywhere. As soon as I got there, off he went to the art area. He sat down for a couple seconds, playing with paper and glue. Thankfully the glue cap was stuck to the bottle. As soon as I sat down next to him, he stood up and ran around back to play Memory with his friend. I felt so loved.
The lights began to flicker signaling clean up. When all areas were clean, we sat down waiting for the activity to begin for the day. Michael decided to sit in my lap as usual and for one heavenly minute of the entire period he was quiet. However, I should have known by then that when a preschooler is too quiet for such a long period of time… it usually means they’re up to something. I then felt a slight vibration in my lap and Michael turned around and stared up at me. He put on that cute little angel face, smiled sweetly, and said, “Excuuuuse me!” Ew. Oh the joys of teaching preschool. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this situation, but there wasn’t really much of a need to when all of a sudden the oh-so-familiar buzz of the fire alarm decided to go off. No… not now… please God…
Of course this sudden noise brought much chaos into the once tranquil preschool lab room. I made sure Michael was standing in line where he was supposed to. As soon as we got in the hallway I grabbed onto his hand so he couldn’t get lost among the taller folk. He then proceeded to try and wiggle free of my death grip and scream. Luckily for me, no one could hear this as the fire alarm was going off. I pretended not to hear his whimpering. When we got outside, Michael was acting like such a little angel. I believe he attempted to stomp on my feet to get me to let go of his hand but there was no way I was about to set this demon infested child loose in the Fremd parking lot. God only knows what kind of chaos would be unleashed as a result of that poor decision. 10 minutes passed and it was time for the kids to go home. I walked Michael to his mothers van and gave her the usual low down of the day. What I wanted to say was, “You’re child is a rude little brat who doesn’t deserve anything from you… I mean Santa… for Christmas except a nice hunk of coal in his pathetic little stocking and you need to do a better job of disciplining him because he obviously doesn’t give half a rat’s behind for authority and he’s going to wind up in jail one day because of his lack of respect and if that happens I will laugh but you need to smack him around a bit and fix him while he’s young before I do because I can’t take it anymore!” Luckily for him, what really came out was, “Well, he was a little rowdy today especially because of the fire drill, but I’m sure tomorrow will be a lot better. Have a nice day!” Oh the joys of preschool.
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You. Little. Demonic. Creature.
Can’t you just stay in one place? I don’t understand it! When we first met you were so cute and smiley, and used to greet me with that adorable, “Hi Sawa!” and completely brighten my day. You used to be so patient and would never think to run down the hall, or scream in class, or make me feel like a child abuser while I tried desperately to prevent you from running straight into oncoming traffic. What happened? It’s like a sugar bomb exploded in your little underdeveloped brain and slowly the moon began to block the sun and left me in the darkness.
I walked into Preschool Lab with a dull pounding in my temples and nauseous feeling in my stomach. Today wasn’t exactly the greatest for me, and to top it all off, half the high school teachers were missing. I not only had to take care of the 3-year-old Jekyll and Hyde, but someone else’s kid as well. “Hi Michael!” I said overenthusiastically as I approached him playing Memory.
Silence.
I barely got an eye to blink. “Whatcha doin, bud?” I asked eagerly.
Nothin. Nada. Zip. Jack squat. I could probably start chucking jello-filled water balloons at his face and he wouldn’t notice. I was beginning to wonder if he was still breathing.
The girl he was playing with responded for him. “We’re playing Memory.” All of a sudden, as though someone took a pin to the shiny, rubbery-exterior of a red balloon, Michael exploded into life. He then proceeded to sprawl out over the table, sending Memory cards flying. “Ok Michael, let’s not throw the cards around everywhere, shall we?” Selective hearing is apparently found in people other than teenagers, for Michael then began to pick up cards and throw them like confetti all around the room. “No Michael, hey I thought we were playing Memory, not having a birthday party! You goof!”
Just keep calm Sara… just… breathe… Only 45 minutes left. I then felt a tug on my pants and immediately stare down at his innocent looking face. Be careful, Michael, your fangs are showing. “Whoaa let’s not pull down my pants, please. Hey look! Memory! What a fun game!” I tried so hard to get him re-interested in the game but all attempts failed. Houston… we have a problem.
Before I could say anything else Michael started running around the room screaming. Here we go again, I thought, as I took a deep breath and put on my happy face. It can’t get much worse than this. I jump up to my feet and follow him to the sand box, where I found him throwing sand around everywhere. As soon as I got there, off he went to the art area. He sat down for a couple seconds, playing with paper and glue. Thankfully the glue cap was stuck to the bottle. As soon as I sat down next to him, he stood up and ran around back to play Memory with his friend. I felt so loved.
The lights began to flicker signaling clean up. When all areas were clean, we sat down waiting for the activity to begin for the day. Michael decided to sit in my lap as usual and for one heavenly minute of the entire period he was quiet. However, I should have known by then that when a preschooler is too quiet for such a long period of time… it usually means they’re up to something. I then felt a slight vibration in my lap and Michael turned around and stared up at me. He put on that cute little angel face, smiled sweetly, and said, “Excuuuuse me!” Ew. Oh the joys of teaching preschool. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this situation, but there wasn’t really much of a need to when all of a sudden the oh-so-familiar buzz of the fire alarm decided to go off. No… not now… please God…
Of course this sudden noise brought much chaos into the once tranquil preschool lab room. I made sure Michael was standing in line where he was supposed to. As soon as we got in the hallway I grabbed onto his hand so he couldn’t get lost among the taller folk. He then proceeded to try and wiggle free of my death grip and scream. Luckily for me, no one could hear this as the fire alarm was going off. I pretended not to hear his whimpering. When we got outside, Michael was acting like such a little angel. I believe he attempted to stomp on my feet to get me to let go of his hand but there was no way I was about to set this demon infested child loose in the Fremd parking lot. God only knows what kind of chaos would be unleashed as a result of that poor decision. 10 minutes passed and it was time for the kids to go home. I walked Michael to his mothers van and gave her the usual low down of the day. What I wanted to say was, “You’re child is a rude little brat who doesn’t deserve anything from you… I mean Santa… for Christmas except a nice hunk of coal in his pathetic little stocking and you need to do a better job of disciplining him because he obviously doesn’t give half a rat’s behind for authority and he’s going to wind up in jail one day because of his lack of respect and if that happens I will laugh but you need to smack him around a bit and fix him while he’s young before I do because I can’t take it anymore!” Luckily for him, what really came out was, “Well, he was a little rowdy today especially because of the fire drill, but I’m sure tomorrow will be a lot better. Have a nice day!” Oh the joys of preschool.