Kim Frencken: I survived kindergarten

I've spent the past two weeks in primary. And I mean primary. Little People. Short kids under the age of six. Small.

I've learned a couple of things. Like why I spent over 21 years teaching middle school and up. Why my mom had gray hair. And why the good Lord blessed me with cats instead of kids. In His wisdom, He knew that I would go crazy. A short trip.

I also learned that I am squishy. I have to be older than seven or they wouldn't let me teach. I can't sing. I can't find the ABC song that they are used to singing. I don't know the difference between a cheetah and a jaguar. I'm funny. I must be a grandma. I'm grandma teacher. The name sticks. For the rest of the day.

They tell you anything. And I mean anything. Nothing is off limits. Or private. No filter. What pops into their heads comes out their mouths. "Do you know what dad said when mom tried on her swimsuit last night? Want to know what mom said back to dad?" Advice to parents: Don't say or do anything in front of your kids that you don't want others to know. They will come to school and tell all making it hard for me to look you in the eye and not burst out laughing.

After my days with the little people, I come home and use a sing-song voice to talk to my husband, who only looks at me funny and asks me about my day. I tilt my head to the left and smile and sing (off key of course), "It was great. We sang the ABC song and used blocks to build a zoo, and we even had time to draw pictures. I love coloring! It is so relaxing. And, I had forgotten how fun it can be to swing. We swing during every recess! Snack time is my favorite... " By the time I reach the end of the verse, his eyes have glazed over. He is probably thinking about having me committed. During supper I offer to cut his meat. Dumbfounded he stares at me. He's looking for signs of a mental breakdown. I laugh as I recount my day. I squeeze my arm and tell him that I am squishy. He continues staring.

Later, I find him looking around the house. I ask him what he is looking for and he tells me, "Your marbles."
Think I'll go help him look. :)

(For more of Kim Frencken's writing and information about her educational products, check out her blog Chocolate for the Teacher.)