Now about my new little job. I’ve now been herding kiddos for 1.5 wks. I’ve been peed on once, retrieved a poop ball off the floor, wiped countless noses, and learned the importance of time-out and naptime. Oh, and when they’re completely out of control and running amuck, flashing the overhead lights gets their attention every time. Kind of a disco effect.
Let me start from the beginning. Initially, it hurt my heart to be close the little ones. I kept thinking about my own hoped-for little one, and found myself detaching. But then had a realization… here I am with a broken mama-heart. And here are these little people who have been put in my care for hours each day. So what, exactly, am I accomplishing by slamming and locking my self-preservatory door? Absolutely nothing. So I started loving on them, sticky fingers & runny noses & all… and I can feel the knot of sadness and loss loosening a bit. I think this little job is exactly where I need to be right now.
I’m in the two-year-old class every afternoon, and substitute as needed in the morning in various classes. Must say that I think two’s are getting a bad rap. This whole “terrible two’s” thing? HA. The three’s are so, so much worse. The two’s are sassy, but ultimately, they’re still babies. The three’s are sassy, and listening to adults is now optional. Can be very overwhelming when there’s 8 of them and 1 of you.
In the two-yr-old class, I’ve been amazed by how easily and naturally they respond to routine. Routine is our friend — without it, that place would be sheer chaos. And they actually know & become irritable if you deviate.
Potty-training, oh my. The two’s come into our class in diapers, and don’t move up until they’re completely trained. I’m going to be a freakin’ expert. It’s an exhausting process, absolutely… they’re like little pee-bombs walking around and you never know when they’ll go off.
I’ve heard the argument for socialization as a reason to put kids in daycare, but I’ve never witnessed it firsthand until now. It’s hard to believe that Maggie’s the same age as these kids… they act so much older than her. Of course, I figure that the little grown-up 2’s probably revert to baby 2’s when they get home, just as Maggie would act differently around an adult who’s not her mommy or Aunt Sassy. I’m still absolutely in the stay-at-home-mom camp, but I can really see how a good childcare environment can be a positive thing.
It’s been suggested that this little venture will help me decide if teaching is something I would want to do. Maybe, I guess, but I’m very congnizant that this job can’t even begin to represent the public school system. For one thing, this is a church-based program — that automatically puts a different spin on everything. And the tuition is very (prohibitively) expensive, for this area, at least. The kids are almost predominantly white and middle- to upper-class. During the 1.5 wks I’ve been there, I’ve met almost every one of their moms AND DADS because their parents are still together, and both are actively involved. The kids are cared-for, bathed, and well-dressed. Yeah, like I said — definitely not a representation of anything except maybe a private school.
And the names. Heh. I’m definitely going to have lots of ideas when it’s my & Bobby’s turn. Conner, Cameron, Camden, Collins. Aniston, Harrison, Emerson, Gunneson, Morrison, Jackson. Landon, Landry, Lujack, Manning, McCrae, Bode, Brady, Blakeley, Braden. And then you have a few classics — Ella, Ellie, Emma, Abby, Sarah, Sam, Zach, Jack, Luke, and John.
Oh, and last thought — have ya’ll ever tried to make 8 imps walk down a hall in a semi-orderly fashion? Yeah, so not happening. The first time I tried, they were running into other classrooms… nothing like broadcasting the fact that the new sub has COMPLETELY lost control of her class. The second time, I made them hold onto each other’s shirts and chug like a choo-choo train. This worked somewhat, but it’s not so good for their expensive little shirts. And then — *OH HAPPY DAY* — I found this sucker in the closet. Whoever invented the walking rope is a freakin’ genius.