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.
Beauty in the day: he talks to us. We often don’t understand what he’s saying, but he’s also pretty animated, so us educated folk are generally able to decipher his antics. Today he had a few words for the Librarian. He seemed interested in her vest, and she leaned down to let him in’vest’igate. He motioned to her zipper, which he then grasped, and pulled up to her chin. She thanked him with a smile, and he left, exhibiting pride in a job well-done.
Sometimes love is letting someone zip you up.
Beauty in the day: it’s my month for Sunday School, and I do the K/1 group. ALL boys. A first grader told me that he heard that Jesus would return someday in the FLESH, and he told me, “Yeah! I can’t wait! I’m gonna get a PICTURE with him!”
Beauty in the day: it was time to take the daily walk to pick up Jaffrey from school, so Bree told Everett to get ready. He showed up with her crocheted beanie cap filled with about 16 hot wheels. She noted this and mentally rolled her eyes, but figured if he could carry them in the cap, it wasn’t worth the argument to tell him to leave them behind.
When they reached the school, the children we being dismissed, and heading out to meet their parents. Bree suddenly became aware that Everett was passing out his hot wheels to kids, saying, “Merry Christmas!” Bree asked him if he knew that he wasn’t getting those back, and Everett said, “I know, but they’re for the kids!”
Beauty in the day: it was actually last Friday and I forgot to share. We have Eagle Tickets that kids earn for being great kids in a way that was noticeable (since they are already all great kids).
Two young men came into the office with their tickets. One was telling me that he was SURE to get a prize, because he had 14 tickets in the drawing. His friend slowly shook his head with a calm smile. “You don’t get it, dude. The prize is the happiness you get in earning the ticket.”