Who told you what?

Again, you just gotta love kindergartners!

Recently, after a several day visit of a baby bull snake in our classroom, it was time for the snake to go and be free. The snake was sitting in its' plastic jar, trying to force it's body against the sides and make an escape.

The snake was on the counter by the door. We were on our way out the door to go home.

(Me) Well, it's time for Sammy the Snake to go home now. Mrs. W. will take it and let it go at her house so it will eat rattlesnakes.

(Various students) How do you know it's a boy, Mrs. Quantrell? How do you tell it's a boy? How do you know?

(Me) You know, I don't know. I think you have to be an expert or something. I have no idea. It could be a girl. Maybe we could call her Sylvia the Snake.

(A girl) Or Sally the Snake.

(First boy) No, Mrs. Quantrell, you know I hear God telling me stuff sometimes. And He just told me that the snake is a girl! (5 year-old pointing to his own head, where God was telling him something)

(Second boy) No, nuh-uh (turning around and arguing with the first boy). God just told ME that the snake was a boy! Mrs. Quantrell, the snake is a boy!


So, who to believe? Maybe the invisible snake expert.

Five year-olds. Sometimes you just have to laugh.

5 Little Monkeys

Oh yeah, big score this weekend! (You will love it if you are a teacher of younger children OR you have younger children in your life.)

Five little monkeys, five little monkeys, five little monkeys just hanging around...
Five little monkeys jumpin' on the bed, one fell off and bumped his head..."

You know the song. How about some fun acting it out? At JoAnn's (fabric/crafts) I found a giant score. In the felt items I found plate-sized thick felt monkey heads with a $1 price. Better yet, when I checked out, they rang up on sale! Score! Fifty cents each. Add a paint stick, or not, and we are ready for some retelling fun.

The deal of the week (as per sign on the basket) was 8 little monkey faces made from felt with sticky backs. Perfect for adding to a Velcro-fingered glove to sing the song. Oh, and the gloves (the cheapies, which fit just fine for small hands) were on sale for $1 a pair.

Both felt items (the small sticky faces may need additional glue to keep them together) are called Felties by Darico and list that they should be used for 3 years-old and over.

Did I snag a deal or what?

Pink Cowboy Boots

Five year olds are honest. And real. And curious. And spiritual.

Every day after lunch, we spend time learning a weekly Bible verse and Bible story. I am constantly amazed at the deep questions kindergartners ask. Occasionally, I'm without a good answer. Usually I end up with a wonderful quote or funny story.

Last week, during the discussion following the story (the weekly story was the Tower of Babel, but they love Noah and Adam and Eve, so we keep looping back to revisit previous stories). One little boy brings up going to Heaven quite often, and how we will go to Heaven when we get old, like a grandma did.

On this afternoon, contributions to the conversation led to talking about Heaven and how we will be taken care of. New bodies and clothes came into the conversation. One thing led to another.

Pretty soon, a little girl, with a sad, heart broken demeanor on her face, piped up, "Teacher, there won't be pretty pink cowboy boots in Heaven?"

What can I say? The Bible tells that the clothes (robes) will be clean and new, glorious and sin-free. I recall nothing about shoes, hairstyles, undergarments, socks...

Pink cowboy boots? For all those little girls who love their cowboy boots?

I bet Jesus loves pink cowboy boots, too.

Funny Things

Teaching kindergarten is excellent fun! I mean, seriously, you can never tell what they will say or do. I love it.

Some recent examples...

I was helping one of my kindergartners use his reading finger to point at each word as we were practicing reading a group book. Noticed that his fingers were sticky, so much so that his pointing finger was sticking to the paper. That was odd, as it was still very early in the school day, and we had not used any sticky materials yet. Then I watched as he switched something from his reading hand to the other hand. It was a booger.

The other day I was introducing the weekly Bible story about Noah and the Ark. I showed the Bible and told the students that this story happened a very long time ago, way back at the beginning of the Bible. One little boy popped up with, "Was that back before the 1970's?" (I guess that officially makes me old).

Today I had a rather reluctant child helping wash lunch tables after the mail. Mostly she was moping and disgruntled at having been chosen for this job. I looked at her and said, "Put some elbow grease into that!" The little girl glanced at my face, then with an invisible shrug, put her elbow onto the wet paper towel and proceeded to wash the table.

Can't buy funny stuff like this. Just gotta love it.

(There never will be a dull or sanitary moment in a kindergarten room.)

Changing the Name

I'm changing the name of one of my favorite activities.

The hubster and I love to get away to the mountains and hit the trail, any trail, just give me a trail...Hiking is a wonderful relaxation for us.

Nature. Fresh air. New scenery (or familiar). Pines. Trees. Birds. Water features. Splashing fish. Bugs. Rain. Other noisy outdoors-persons (female in our most recent case, with their fighting in the water dogs). Stumps. Fallen trees. Roots. Dirt. Mud.

What a list! Regardless, we love getting out there to see God's Creation.

I'm also very good, lately, at implementing my own drama. Camera in hand, I creep carefully up and down the dirt and pine needle paths, sneaking down to the lake's edge - Cooper Lake in this instance - clicking pictures and enjoying the peace and quiet.

Until I found the log. It was thigh high for me, and had fallen over the trail. Sure, I can handle the camera AND climbing over the bark-free trunk.

Neither leg made it. It was a slow-mo two part classic fall and wished we had the video going event. My first leg going up and over slipped on the wet bark, throwing me half over the trunk, while the last leg scrambled to join the party on the other side of the tree. When the second leg made the leap, it came into contact with a slick rock and ground dust, sliding and bumping me face and knees first into a clump of shrubs.

But the camera was fine, although the lens cover fell into the dust. Mostly, I think, I kept the camera shoulder high (as opposed to doing anything to break the fall and personal one on one time with the ground and shrub).

The hubster, right behind me, grasped vacantly at my loose jacket, which was unzipped and provided nothing to grab. Neither could he leap in a single bound the tree trunk and beat me to the other side and catch me. He just watched the excitement, holding onto a piece of jacket shoulder, waiting for me to hit bottom so he could help me up. (He did feel really bad to not save me from myself...)

So I am renaming my hiking hobby to Falling. Whenever we go to the mountains I shall tell people we are going falling. This is not the first time. It seems to be happening more often.

On the list, new shoes with good tread and a longer camera strap so it can rest on my shoulders and not in my hand.

Falling, here we come.