How Many Preschoolers Fit in a Box?

This morning I tackled a task that I have been dreading for the last few months. Due to summer activities and one of the regular workers asking to take the summer off, my church has been a little short-handed on preschool workers. Last April, when I was approached to help, I adamantly declined. I have no desire to work with small children even when I am getting paid for it. You can read here (Teacher Troubles) about the time I was stuck with 24 of them for an entire day. Despite my protests, they didn't back down and I reluctantly agreed to take one day. Today was that day.

I had forgotten about agreeing to do this until a book was set in front of me at last week's dinner. It contained the lesson plan for today. My daughter, who was to be my assistant, was told she would have to walk me through it. She has assisted with the children many times and apparently is pretty good at it. Neither of us picked up the book, each assuming that the other was going to get it. On Wednesday, when I asked Kirsten for the book, we realized what had happened. I looked all over the church and my home for that book and finally realized that I would be walking in blind with no lesson.

I have taught hundreds of times and most of the time write my own lessons, but it is generally for teenagers or adults. At those ages, the lesson are information based. With tiny little moron kids, you have to do activities to keep their minds occupied and prevent them from biting each other. Then, while you have them distracted, you try to sneak in a nugget of knowledge or two and call it a productive lesson time. I am not good at this type of teaching.

Clowns make people happy.

There were seven children, including two I had never seen before and would not speak. One of them was a boy content to dig through the bins of toys and keep himself occupied. He wouldn't acknowledge me in any way, but he seemed pretty low maintenance, so I didn't mind. The silent girl sat at the table and stared at me, but would not speak. I could almost detect her head moving when I asked her a question, but I couldn't be sure. I was just happy that no one appeared to be scared of me. The smaller children often seem to have a heightened sense of paranoia.

The kids were pretty well behaved and I spent most of my time throwing toys back in the bins so there would not be a huge clean up afterwards requiring me to take bids from contractors. My daughter was on bathroom duty and escorted them when they suddenly realized they had to go. I was grateful to have her there for that, but then she said, "Who's ready for a snack."

ME: (exasperated) Why would you say that?

KIRSTEN: Say what? 

ME: About the food?

KIRSTEN: It's time to eat.

ME: We are only in here for an hour and everyone is happy. What have you done?

KIRSTEN: Dad, we have to feed them.

ME: No, we don't. Once again, one hour.

KIRSTEN: I don't see what the problem is.

ME: You don't fix what isn't broke. This will only lead to disaster.

As we were having this debate the kids had made their way to the table and were already demanding what they wanted.

ME: See what you've done.

KIRSTEN: Just throw some food at them.

Kirsten pulls a box of graham crackers out of the closet. I objected on the grounds that we had to clean this room before we left.

ME: No. Too many crumbs.

Kirsten rolls her eyes, returns to the closet and comes back with prepackaged apple slices.

ME: No, too sticky.

Kirsten appeared frustrated. I don't know why, I was only trying to help. She doesn't always think these things through. She suggested we start with the drinks since the kids were starting to complain. She gave each kid a cup and asked me to grab the juice.

ME: Juice? That will get everywhere and once again, sticky.

Kirsten stepped around me to get the juice and knocked a box of raisins to the floor. One of the kids immediately started crying.

SHORT PERSON: (wailing) I don't like raisins.

Raisins OR bloated ticks

I picked up the box and yelled, "This box is full of bugs!" I then threw several of the raisins on the table and told the kids to kill the bugs. They just looked at me.

ME: (urgently) Kill the bugs before they crawl away and get in the other classes!

The little boy that hadn't spoke all through class ran up to the table and smacked his hand on one of the raisins and squished it.

ME: Good! Now, quick, eat the bug.

He popped it in his mouth and smiled. I threw more raisins on the table and the kids simultaneously went nuts trying to smash them all and cram them in their mouths before they crawled away. This included the kid who insisted he didn't like raisins.

We made it through snack time with no messes and never did serve the drinks, but the kids didn't notice and Kirsten did not object. We passed the rest of the time making animal noises and I scared one kid by removing my finger. She hid in the corner until I promised to put it back on and not do the trick again. I debated since she was very quiet in the corner, but the other kids had grown weary of that trick anyway.

Parents eventually started showing up to reclaim their children and due to our pre-planning, there was very little clean up. Once again, I have survived a room full of small children. However, I still have no desire to do it again.