New! Stories About Working
And Playing With Children

from the book "School Days and Preschool Days, Too!"

THE IMPERSONATION

     A precocious preschool girl asked if she could borrow my Disney songbooks to "play school". Consenting, I watched her drill a small contingent of younger children, marching them from place to place in the play yard. At each new location she would tell them to sit down. "School starts in sixteen minutes!" she would say. The children would open their books as she sternly admonished them to do their lessons. Then, in a little while, she would snap shut her own book with the command to her 'students', "Class Just Missed!"
     I made some vague, wry comment on her choice of words. Suspecting she might not be getting her impersonation of a grown-up teacher precisely correct, she shortened her barked order the next time to a simple "Class Missed!".

TEACHER AS TRUCK MECHANIC

     Three young boys especially enjoy playing together with toy trucks. Their typical ritual is to get identical, or nearly identical, trucks and wheel them together, single file, all over the play yard.
      The other day two of the boys were happily playing in the sandbox with identical orange, two-piece cab-and-trailer trucks that lock together. My attention was drawn as the third child began throwing a fit. I was puzzled to see a third truck that looked exactly like the ones the other two boys were playing with, sitting untouched in the sand.
      "Why, Martin," I said. "There's a truck just like the one William and Calvin are playing with! Why don't you just use that one?"
      "It's broken!" Martin wailed.
      Picking up the truck to see if I might be able to fix it, I found the body intact and the wheels fluid. The whole truck appeared fine.      "Look, Martin, it works fine!" I said, thinking this news might make him happy.
      "The headlight's broken!" he sobbed, jumping up and down.      "The headlight?" I repeated. I hadn't even realized these toys had headlights. I took a look at the front of the truck. Small square, yellow decals, supposed to represent headlights, were affixed to each side.
      "It looks ok to me," I said.
      "No it's not, it's broken!" Martin shouted, coming over to me. "See?"
      As I watched, Martin pointed. I saw that each headlight decal had a thin, black outline. The outline of one of the headlights was worn away in one place about 1/4 inch long.
      "William, will you please trade trucks with Martin? This truck's really fine," I said.
      "I'm not using that truck!" William said.
      "How about you, Calvin?"
      "That one's broken!" Calvin replied.      
      I looked helplessly from child to child. Suddenly, I had an idea. I pulled a pen out of my pocket. Carefully, I cradled the truck in my arms and drew in the missing line.
      "Martin!" I called. "Look! I've fixed the truck!"
      Martin skeptically walked back over and took another look at the truck. A huge smile broke upon his face, and I swear, I could see his imagination at work! It looked like the headlight on the truck actually switched on as he became aware of the change!
      The three boys zoomed merrily away, their caravan of identical orange trucks barreling over the sand and then over the wooden railings that support our play area, all the way down to the other end.
                                        
                                  THE ART CRITIC

     I'd been working on a Princess drawing for some kindergarten girls to color during Aftercare. On my way to xerox the finished product in the office, I stopped in the Teacher's Lounge. As I prepared coffee, a 2nd grade boy came into the room.
     "I'm getting tea for Ms. Thea!" he proudly declared his mission. Then he happened to notice the drawing I was holding.
     "What do you have there?" he asked.
     "Oh, it's a drawing I've been doing," I said.
     "Let me see," he said.
     I placed the picture on the table for his perusal. He seemed to study it for quite awhile. Then he looked straight up at me.
     "Draw the Civil War!" was his comment, and he was gone, with his tea, from the room.

ONE UP

     Often when it rains I make announcements about fabulous mountains we can build in our roofed-over sandbox. I do this partly to relieve stress on the indoor teachers. Occasionally, though, we do build some pretty massive piles of sand, and the rhythm of teamwork that gets established is pretty nice, too.
     It was one of those rainy afternoons. A large number of preschoolers and I were working smoothly together, and our many "demolition experts" were somehow restraining themselves. The pile of sand we were all shovelling grew taller and taller. I felt an unusual harmony and saw a kind of vision of Democracy. I was just about to get lost in it, when a very strong-willed child shovelling next to me looked intensely my way and with not even a trace of humor announced, "You're working for me, you know!"

Click to read the whole book!
School Days and Preschool Days, Too:
A treasury of anecdotes culled from my work and play as a preschool worker and an elementary school after- school activities supervisor
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