Tag Archives: prize

The Happiness You Get

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.”

#myheart

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You Don’t Tug on Superman’s Cape

Beauty in the day: the ever-popular Super-Hero Prize Tickets made a new conquest today. The happy young man came to choose an acceptable prize, and discovered that the odd little rubbery “flying super heroes” were actually a pretty fun deal, based on the descriptive given to him by his paraeducator. It involved pulling the ends in opposite directions, and launching the hero through the air. He grabbed it with great enthusiasm. As they prepared to depart back to the classroom, his para was overheard to say, “So, would flying this toy in the classroom be an unexpected thing, or an expected thing?” I honestly saw the wheels turning in technicolor, and the process took at least 10 full seconds. He looked at her then and gave his answer. “Unexpected.” She smiled at him, satisfied, and as they walked away, the rubber super hero was slipped into his pocket quietly.
‪#‎bam‬

With a Wink and a Snore

Beauty in the day: he is the kindergartener who rolls on the floor. Today, in his Guest Teacher-led class, he was, well, a little out of control. I went to the classroom at the teacher’s request for a little help, since the last known “on deck” person was already “on base”. I entered a room filled with – snoring. Nineteen little bodies were sitting at tables with their heads on the tables, giving their very best Oscar-worthy rendition of “Child at Desk in School Taking a Nap”. One little kindergartener, however, was still wide awake. In his determination to give his own Oscar-worthy performance, he was, er, ascending to greater heights. I went over to where he was and got serious. “Eyes on me, Friend.” His eyes found mine. “Please tell me, Friend, what all your classmates are doing.” He was not fooled by this line of questioning, and answered brilliantly.
“They are pretending to have a nap in class. They are doing a sleep, and some of them are snoring.”
Not bad.
“Okay, Friend, and is this what you are also supposed to be doing?”
His answer was about to be less brilliant, but then his brain prompted him (politely, I’m sure) to say, “Yes.”
“Okay, eyes on me, Friend.” He complied. “I want you to show me exactly what you are supposed to be doing in five, four, three…”
His legs walked his body straight to his chair, his spine bent elegantly over his desk, and he expertly laid his head on the desk, punctuating the moment with a well intentioned soft little snore.
We had a talk about how he simply could no longer fool me, because he has, on several occasions, proven how brilliantly his brain worked, and how utterly capable he was at following directions.
The AP got involved then, and a plan was developed for him to earned smiley faces. After 3 smiley faces were earned (this would take 15 minutes), he could come to the office and choose a prize from his illustrious prize box.
15 minutes later, he arrived, classroom aide in tow, with his 3 smiley faces, and ready to claim his prize. But the AP had been called away. I grabbed my camera, and we went together to the prize box. “I will take a picture of you for the AP,” I told him. He looked with dampened desire at the prizes. Something wasn’t right. He looked at the prizes and then at me, uncertainty in his chocolate brown lash-rimmed eyes. “It’s a little bit like stealing,” he mused. I assured him that we would take the picture, and then the AP would be super proud and happy.
“I should pick two, then.”
#maybetooconvincing