Motherlove.

 

Yesterday, I was teaching a delightful group of brand-new grade three students. 

We had a rollicking good time, in spite of the weather (which was awful), and all of the cooped-up indoor-time that it necessitated.  If there's one thing I've learned, it's that ALL kids-- especially the ones who have only been trapped in school and told to sit-down-and-be-quiet for a scant two weeks-- need regular opportunities to get up and get their sillies out.  Preferably, outside in the fresh air.

We read books.  We picked out characters, settings, problems and solutions.  We made predictions and connections.  We took turns writing on the whiteboard. 

We talked about gravity, and how we need it to keep the food on our plates, so that peas and rice and chicken fingers don't go flying up in the air all around us.  One kid even asked the Famous Question:  "How do astronauts go to the bathroom?", which threatened to start us off on a WHOLE other tangeant...

At the end of the day, we did hard math.  I searched for and dragged out every manipulative I could get my hands on, to help those kids visualize and understand the concept of Growing Patterns.  WHY this unit is introduced to little ones right smack at the beginning of the year, before we've even had a chance to review Whole Numbers, is beyond me.

But, somehow, we managed.

I signed agendas, instructed them to "Read for twenty minutes tonight!!", and sent them on their merry way at three o'clock.

I was kneeling on the floor, tidying up the last of the coloured wooden shapes that had been liberally passed around during our last period, when one of my more "restless" boys came bursting back into the room, backpack flying.  He tore over to his desk, and proceeded to empty half of its contents onto the floor.

I straightened up, and went over to lend a hand, wondering what on earth he was up to.

Me:  (scooping two books and a pack of Spiderman trading cards up off the floor)  What's up?  Aren't you supposed to be getting on your bus?

Him:  (slightly frantic)  I forgot my math books!!  My mum says I have to bring my text book and my note book home EVERY NIGHT this year.

Me:  Your mum sounds like my kind of lady.  She must really love you.

That dear, sweet boy looked up at me and grinned hugely.

Him:  Nah.  She just thinks I watch too much Spongebob.

I roared with laughter, helped him on with his backpack, and put my arm around his shoulders as we walked out towards the bus loop.

Ah, my little friend...  Your mum loves you more than you will ever, ever know.