Beauty in the day: so they were lined up by the door of the school waiting for dismissal. I like to go out into the foyer and say goodbye to the kids – this is when they sometimes tell me random stuff.
One little kindie girl held up a pice of paper folded like a card and colored bright colors. “Look at what my friend made for me!” She was exuberant. Friend was next to her, and hopped up and down silently, a grin spread all over her face.
The kindie girl continued her exaltation, showing me how her friend had drawn her a lovely picture, “and look!” She got even more excited, which made Friend hop up and down ever so much more jubilantly. “She colored the two sides my favorite colors!” And then, with a highly exaggerated wave of her hand, showed first the purple side, then the pink.
Now Friend stopped hopping, and leaned in toward her beneficiary, who smiled at her lovingly.
The ringing bell signaled the need for the bus, and off they went.
At least two little girls had a very good day today. Probably more. Things like that can be infectious.
Beauty in the day: there was a LOT of it. Beauty here, beauty there, beauty everywhere. Beautiful children, beautiful parents, beautiful staff. I looked on delightedly as students so loudly repeated what Mrs. Anderson recited for them in ONE VOICE. I looked on with enchantment as the students silently and interestedly watched a video about how their brain works when it’s learning. I listened with GREAT INTEREST when a soon-to-be-Kindergartener told me her important truth: “My 3-year-old sister is going to turn 5 after she turns 4, just like me.”
We build knowledge upon knowledge at Ardmore.
Beauty in the day: we use these little tags for kids who ride busses. The parents fill them out and attach them to their kid’s backpacks. I received some from our transportation department, and I knew right away I would need more. I called.
“Hey, you know those little tags you sent? I know I’m gonna need more. We seem to go through them like…” I paused to think, and was about to say “candy”, when the transportation rep finished my sentence with, “toilet paper?”
We laughed, because her suggestion was actually more apropos.
I got the tags I requested today, but it took a minute to find them, as they were very carefully wrapped in several layers of toilet paper. 😂
Beauty in the day: he got a little scrape, and needed a bandaid. I pulled out the Bactine, and gave a little spray. Then I got some nice, soft, gauze to clean it. I started to clean.
“But go slowly,” he said.
I cleaned it kind of fast, and looked to see if he was handling it okay, and said, “I should just go fast so it will hurt less.”
“Okay, go fast, but go SLOWLY.”
I slowed down, and cleaned carefully.
“But of course, my friends are all waiting for me,” he mused.
I cocked an eyebrow and looked at him.
“Should I go fast, or should I go slow?”
He peered up at me, and then said, with authority, “You should go fast. But SLOWLY.”
Beauty in the day: so, our 5th graders are working to qualify for “Self Manager” status. Many already have, and I was working on special custom badges attached to lanyards for each of them.
One 5th grade boy was sent to the workroom by his teacher to sharpen a handful of pencils, which he did, quite handily. We chatted about the lanyards while he did his chore and I continued with mine as well. He was preparing to leave, and I suggested he wait, while I finished he last of the lanyards, so he could deliver them to his teacher.
I instantly saw that this presented him with a predicament. One the one hand, the beautiful lanyards (which included his OWN personalized edition, complete with picture) would surely please his teacher and fellow students, and would DEFINITELY please himself. On the other hand, he was sent on a pencil-sharpening mission, and his well-earned status of Self Manager was quite fresh, and he was loathe to taint it in any way.
He said nothing, but smiled nervously at me, and I saw that he was delicately walking a balance beam between respecting his teacher’s instruction, and respecting mine. He seemed to be swaying ever so slightly under the weight of this while he waited for me to finish. I thought I detected tiny beads of perspiration forming on his forehead, and he smiled at me with a pinched smile. His eyes darted back and forth, and then he would make eye contact with me and smile again, shyly.
After what surely seemed like an hour (but what was actually closer to 4 minutes), I was finished, and handed the lanyards to him, which he clutched like a trophy. As he left the workroom I called to remind him not to forget his pencils. I got an especially fun look from him for that.
His teacher reported that he came into the classroom and turned over the lanyards. Then he told her, “I have to be honest – I finished sharpening the pencils quite a bit earlier….”
Beauty in the day: he came to the clinic with cracked, bleeding lips.
“I have just the thing!” I told him. Afterwards he asked to call his mom.
“Hi mom. My lip was bleeding, but Ms. Nordstrom put gasoline on it, and it’s better now.”
Beauty in the day: there were two of them, and they had a pass, which they handed over with an air of importance. “We need to get 10 copies of this.”
“Okay,” I responded dutifully, and held out my hand for the paper.
“We need 10 copies.”
“10 copies of this math.”
“Okay.” I extended my hand a little further.
“Please make 10 copies of this math.”
“Okay.” I sort of waved my hand a little.
“10 copies for my teacher.”
I tried a different tack.
“I think you need to give me that copy, so I can use it to make the 10 copies.”
This brought me a suspicious gaze. But as I am generally trustworthy, she handed over the paper, albeit slowly.
“My teacher needs 10 of those.”
Yes. 10 was what I had stuck in my mind, so I was relieved that we were still on the same page.
I brought back the copies, giving the original to one girl, and the copies to the other. For a moment it appeared that we might have an equality issue, but Logic won out, and they headed back to class with their mission accomplished.