One, two, three, four, five, six, nine, or ten.

Unfortunately my kindergarteners are not reciting Feist lyrics.  We're good until about three and then we jump anywhere from "nine" to "forty-seven."   


As much amusement as my twenty-one little angels provide for me, they often shock and deeply trouble me.  Today was one of those days.


After lunch, we normally shake out our sillies out on the playground.  Today we only enjoyed five minutes of this, mostly because the playground was packed.  The only reason we even went out was maintain consistency and dole out some sort of punishment for J. Cryer and F who had yet again destroyed their morning work beyond recognition.  A pig will soar by your window some afternoon... then you'll know these boys have finally left their cozy spot on the wall and earned the privilege to discover the joys of recess.  But I digress.


Our math lesson today revolved around writing the numbers 1, 2, and 3.  While my ten superstars are practically solving quadratic equations, the rest of my minions are performing one of three actions:
1. Attempting to set a world record for time spent sitting still, doing absolutely nothing.
2. Finding new ways to break the lead of their pencils so they can dramatically notify me of such OR examining the end of their pencil to see if there is enough lead available for the undoubtedly stellar work they will produce one they receive a sharp, pointy pencil.
3.  Contemplating the mysteries of the universe.  This is done performed in either sworn silence or an outside voice.


Sadly, I know why these children revert to these self-limiting behaviors.  They have no idea what to do or how to go about doing it.  During math time, I am fortunate to have the Exceptional Ed. teacher doing inclusion with me.  She provides an extra set of eyes and another person to help explain directions.  She's also much more patient than I am during whole-group work.  She's also very helpful to affirm that I am teaching clearly.  These eleven children are out on planet Jupiter.  Today I was so exasperated I wanted to scream, "don't you know how IMPORTANT it is to be able to write your numbers?!?!?!"  I knew all of this before I even went to school. 


Then, that's when it hits me.  I knew all of it before because I had the best kindergarten experience in the world-- I was home-schooled by my mom.  She didn't have the distraction of twenty other needy children sneezing and then rubbing their hands all over her.  She provided that direct instruction and only accepted the best from me.  I was lucky.  Very lucky.  For some of my students,  I spend more time with them than their own mothers do.


Of course these kids don't know how important it is to write their numbers.  They barely even know what school is-- no one has taken the time to tell them.  At age 22, I am not equipped to be anyone's mother, yet this is what is asked of me.  It's my job.  No one else will take the time to help Eduardo write his two or show Kevvy how to hold his pencil.  It's exhausting, but the smile that comes from the first time a kid says "I like three!" or "I can do it!" makes it worth it.


So count on, little ones, count on.  We'll get you from Feist to 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, once I caught a fish alive in no time.


Just please cover your mouth when you cough.