Working with children is always an adventure, but there is a significant difference (to me) between working as a caregiver in a daycare program (which is what I am doing now) and working as a teacher in an actual classroom. As I've worked with the children and other adults at the elementary school, I've noticed that there has been a shift in the way I view myself, as well as shifts in the way other people view me. I have tried reconciling with these different identities, but some of them still weird me out.
1. I am invisible. The teachers at the school (with the exception of the principal and the kindergarten and grade one teachers) don't seem to see me. I often pass them on my way to pick up children from their classrooms, or taking children to their classrooms. I have tried very hard from the beginning to not walk around looking like a grumpus. Part of this behavioral modification attempt on my part requires me to smile at people as I walk past. Not say anything, as I know people are busy and teachers in the hallway are rarely able to stop and chat; I just smile. In return I get blank stares, or worse, cut dead (this is an old-time-y Britishism for when someone makes eye contact with you, then looks away and ignores you as though you were never there). As I have done nothing to offend these teachers, I can only assume it is because they are aware of my non-teacher status and have decided that I do not merit a response (this explanation was offered by the ladies I work with, who get simiar responses, despite having worked at the school for years). This is infuriating, because it makes me want to say, "Look, dude (or lady), I realize that you are a busy teacher with things to do, but you have a small school, with small classes, and your kids with their issues are nothing compared to what I dealt with for four years in California, so don't treat me like some inferior 'help' because I'm not teaching. I'm just trying to be nice." I never actually say it, except in my head (with expletives). I don't think that will help the situation. No, I just continue to smile politely and hope that one day, I won't be invisible to them.
As noted above, there are 3 exceptions to this. The principal is very nice and always says hello and makes small talk. The kindergarten teacher is polite. I have become buddies with the grade one teacher, and she gives me heads up when kids are gone or have head lice. This last is especially important if I have my hair hanging down at all (even in a ponytail), because I can fix it before getting near any children.
2. I am the loud one. I know, shocking, right? But I am. Every other woman I work with is very soft spoken. They can't yell - they are physically incapable of hollering over the din of 50 students in a lunch room. I am not. Often one of them will motion to me to get the kids' attention, because I'm the only one who can raise my voice in a non-yelling fashion loud enough for the kids to hear the cue of "1,2,3 eyes on me". It's weird. I've never been "the loud one" before. That title usually goes to Becca (don't get offended, you know it's true). It's also kind of empowering, because when kids are being rude little brats and ignoring the other teachers, I have the power to get and keep their attention long enough to point out that they are being rude and disrespectful (I leave off the brats part) to an adult. Then they stay quiet because it's still kind of new to them to have a teacher whom they can't tune out. Weird, eh?
3. I am a jailer, a prison warden, the "mean" one. For the most part, I get along fine with the kids. There are a few who try to push the limits on behavior beyond what is acceptable, but very few. There's only one (so far) who I would classify as a completely spoiled brat. This child flips out the second things do not go his way. I know that type of behavior is common in two and three year olds; he is in third grade. Not acceptable in the slightest. Yesterday things came to a head when he threw a temper tantrum at not being dismissed to go out to recess with all of his friends. There was a simple reason for this: we only dismiss half the students, wait five minutes, then dismiss the other half because otherwise their cubby area gets too crowded with everyone trying to get in their snow clothing all at once. I was already tired of his rude comments to the teachers at lunch, so when he threw his tantrum, I'd had enough. He stayed inside with me. I attempted to calmly explain to him why he was being kept inside. I didn't yell at all, but I did rock my "teacher voice". He responded by proclaiming "This is the worst day of my life" to which I responded "You must have a pretty good life". Later it was "I'd rather be in jail, it'd be better than this" to which I responded "You've obviously never seen a real jail." A little immature, but I couldn't help it. There were also proclamations of "I'm going to tell my mom" and "I'm going to tell my dad". I invited him to do so. I wish he had. Oh, I so wish he had. I would love to have a conversation with that child's mother about what constitutes appropriate behavior. Later, while in the midst of a fresh bout of tears (he had several), he tipped his head backwards and began to choke, then grabbed his throat. I told him to tip his head forward, because tipping it back makes you choke. No sympathy from me, the mean one. Once the bell rang, I dismissed him. As a "parting shot" he said "Thanks for the worst time ever." I held my tongue. I can tell this will be a lengthy war, and I'd already won the battle.
4. I am a storyteller. I love to read books aloud to children. My favorite is Skippyjon Jones, but Where the Wild Things Are is a close second. My kinders have figured out that I love reading, and every day at least two of them fight to have me read their books at book time (following lunch). It's great fun :). I like doing voices, reading with great expression, and generally making books enjoyable. And I love that they fight over whose book will get read first, or who gets to sit on my lap while I read.
5. I am a star. The kinders (who I spend the bulk of my time with on Mondays) have this game they play with tinker toys: Show. Catchy title, eh? It's really cute, though, because they all make microphones and cameras out of the toys, then put on a show for one another with singing, or "lifting weights" (also made from tinker toys) or acting. The other day, one of the boys asked me to sing the ABC's. I sang Jackson 5 instead, while the others "filmed" me. Then it was a duet of "Call Me Maybe" with one of the girls, and then a group "Gangnam Style" dance off. I still never want to teach kindergarten - it's way more fun to just play with the kids - but I am not hating my afternoons with them the way I feared I would when I first started working this job.
6. I am Miss Judge-y Pants. That's right. I judge the parents of these kids up and down, all day long. I judge all over them. I tried not to, but y'know what? Some people are crappy parents, and it shows. I understand about difficulties with children who have strong personalities, and I know some kids will always be pushing the limits; although, those kids will often back down when it's made clear to them that they've gone too far. No, the parents I judge are ones like the parents of the child I timed out for lunch yesterday, the tantrum-thrower. Or the mother who often forgets to send her daughter a lunch. Or the mother whose daughter has had lice three times this year. Or the father who allows his grade 5 daughter to dress in a manner more befitting a Ke$ha concert than school. Or the parents who send their children to school in -45 weather without mitts or snowpants. Or the parents who allow their kindergarten daughter to wear strapless sundresses to school in the middle of winter, and complain that she is just stubborn, like, hi, she's five and tiny. You don't have to let her out of the house like that. That's right, I'm Miss Judge-y Pants. I'm sure if/when I have my own children, I will have my own problems to deal with, but I hope I at least have sense enough to a) dress my children appropriately for school, in every sense of the word b) keep my children clean and fed, and c) squash the tendency towards tantrums out of them before they're too large to wrestle.
It's a different experience, working in child care instead of being a teacher (although I still get called "Teacher" every day). While this is not something I will be doing the rest of my life (June, can you get here already?), I am having experiences and "gaining identities" that I never have before. It's kind of fun...although it's still weird to me, being the loud one.
Oh! How I loved number 3!!!! And I love that you are the loud one:)
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