Room 102

I love my kindergartners. Here are some of their awesomeness.

Justin was out sick all week. He came back today, and during circle time Alexia asked him, "Where have you been?"
"Oh, I was having diarrhea."

Today we discovered a rash all over David's body, it was especially brutal on his cheeks. On our walk down to the nurse's office, he said, "That would be so cool if my cheeks got so red that they turned into roses, and then I could pick them off and give them to my mom. I love my mom."

All the kiddos were in groups, compromising on a fairytale story to create. Compromise doesn't happen with 5 year-olds, F.Y.I. I was working with one group, where the boys wanted protagonist wolves, the girls wanted gingerbread men. I suggested both. The boys said, "Only if the wolf get in a fight and eat the gingerbread men!" The girls practically fainted and said, "No! They should dance together." In the meantime, I noticed Anthony slowly sneaking away. He got a black piece of electrical tape off the counter and put it on his lip, like a mustache. I went up to him and said, "Anthony," to which he replied, "Bonjour my friends." I said something like what? and he said, "Bonjour my friends. That's French Miss Cline. I'm learning French." Just then one of the kids in his group yelled out, "Oh dude! We could have a story about three little mustached men!" Everyone thought it was great, so Anthony posed for his group as they drew three replicas of him and his tape mustache. Anthony kept saying, "The three little men should say 'Bonjour my friends'." In the end, the fairytale was about three little mustache men who danced with monsters.

Last Friday at recess, Will came inside crying hysterically. He was sobbing so hard - the kind where you go silent for a moment, then screech loudly as you try to suck air back in. He had rashes around his eyes, and was basically melting into the floor. I ran over to him and took the note in his hand, from the recess duty, which read, "Will is crying." Obviously. He couldn't speak, and wasn't calming down, so I asked him a bunch of questions. Are you hurt? Did someone say something mean to you? Do you miss your mom? Are you tired? Did you get in trouble? My questions probably perpetuated the crying by having him think of all these potentially sad things. After seriously like 15 minutes - I was ready to walk out - he finally calmed down (I had thrown him on a bean bag chair with a stuffed animal and was waving a pixie stick in front of him as incentive for shutting-up). I asked him for the 100th time, "Will, what's going on bud?" He said, "My body told me it needed to cry."
"What?"
"I was standing outside when my body just said, 'Will, you need to cry, right now,' and so I did." He was completely serious, took a few deep breaths, thanked me for his pixie stick and went back out to recess.