Summer Kinders

Again, musing over my summer daycare days, I recall so many lovely memories. I used to play Hide-and-Go-Seek for hours with the kindergarteners. Amazingly, we would use the same small rectangular room. Hiding places were few and far between, but it turns out that five-year-olds can't possibly get enough of the game. I would, of course, ham the whole thing up. I would search talking out loud to myself about how confused I felt-- even as the little ones used the same hiding spots over and over. Little legs stuck out from behind doors, lumpy bodies curled beneath blankets with elbows poking out. Snickers would erupt as I drew near. I would play off their exaggerated emotions of anticipation and sneakiness-- then, bam! I would uncover the hiding kid and she or he would erupt with laughter and shock. Or I would hide, and I would be as creative as possible with my limited resources. It was great fun.

One of my other favorite parts was nap time. Firstly, we got to turn the lights down and rest in a cool room away from the blasting Tucson summer heat. But secondly, I always had a chance to read to them as they lay upon those colored squishy mats. My absolute favorite children's book in the world was (and so still is) Fox in Sox. I basically had the story memorized I would read it so much. I had a voice for the Fox and this awesome, sort of Richard Nixon voice for Mr. Knox. Mr. Knox would shake his head and 'blubber blabber' with frustration like the fat Gungan king from Star Wars Episode 1-- it was pretty awesome.

The Desert Terror

Last time I was talking about times teaching at the summer daycare. Here I will continue in that same strain. In that same time, my summer days of 16 and 17, I encountered another confrontation with desert wildlife creatures. We were all eating lunch in the covered walkways while the sun beat upon the grass before us. Suddenly a great commotion stirred up in an area. Elementary aged children were gathered in a group excitedly chirping about something. As I made my way over to see what was up, another group gathered in a different area-- these were shouting and jostling to see something interesting.

I actually worked alongside my older brother for this job, and we were the only male teachers there. So we kind of split up to solve the issues. As it turned out a great big Colorado River Toad was hopping about cornered by the curious children in the one spot-- while at the other spot a great big tarantula was being studied by prodded with fear and fascination. My brother took the task of catching the poisonous toad in a bucket and tossing it over the far fence into the dry abyss of the Sonoran summer desert while I was left to deal with the tarantula.

The best tool I could find was this rather small lego bucket. So, amongst the nervous excited chillens, I popped the bucket over the hairy beast, doing my best to act manly and in charge, even though I was terrified of spiders. I swooped the bucket from the wall and held it with one hand up over my head speed-walking through the crowd of children toward the field. Then-- horror of all horrors -- the nasty bugger slid his hairy limbs over the hand holding the bucket. You see, he had climbed up the wall of the bucket and was grabbing onto my hand clinching the lip of the container.

I lost it. I screamed like a girl and tossed the bucket into the air-- and all hell broke loose. The children screamed and scattered, the teacher man in charge had failed them. He not only lost all composure in a scary situation, but he tossed the bucket and the spider into the crowd of children. The terrorized monster landed and immediately began weaving in and out of the legs of the hysterical kids.

I don't even remember what happened after that, I think I've repressed the memory because of the trauma and shame of it all. Needless to say, I lost whatever shred of manly respect I thought I carried. But I think the kids enjoyed that near-death-experience thrill of it all in the end.

And I bet the spider won't forget how he so thoroughly emasculated a proud young man-- isn't that what spiders are for after all?

Billy the Kid

So, I have a bit of experience working with kids, teenagers, even adults in various teaching settings. I'd like to just share some of my work history here on my blog with you. When I was 16 and 17, I worked at a summer daycare program. I totally loved this job! My group was the little ones, the kindergarten aged tikes. And being with these 4-6 year-olds during those care-free summer days was so fun.

I'll never forget some of the hilarious/horrifying stories from those blazing Tucson summers. One day we were playing outside near the swings and the tough grassy field. I was exhausted because, well, I was young and it was the summer, so I hadn't slept much before starting my early work day with the little ones. So I suggested we play the silent and still game (oldest trick in the book, I know). I said whoever can stay still the longest and stay the quietest will win a prize (I had found this little plastic jewel toy in the grass earlier).

So they all lay on the grass and I did too, just resting my tired eyes beneath a cloud. Then, suddenly, Billy began screaming! Like, murderous frantic screams. I popped up and went to him imploring what was the matter. After a few seconds I realized to my horror that Billy had lain upon an anthill and was covered with tiny black biters. I swept all the ants off and and shook them out of pants etc. I begged forgiveness--man I felt like the biggest failure ever. Billy soon recovered and I learned the importance of solid sleep when working with youngsters, and the terrors of the Wild West Desert dwellers. Never again did I make that mistake.

Yep, this is me at the ripe young age of 17. Until next time you wonderful people who have somehow read this blog-- Au revoir!