lessons learned

Yesterday I volunteered at the kids’ homeschool co-op.

I was a helper in Bergen’s first grade class.

18 first graders.

One very rainy day.

No outside play time.

This is what I learned.

Surprisingly, I really like a large group of first graders. They were funny, unpretentious, happy and kind.

Clorox wipes remove magic marker stains from school tables. Super grateful for this when Boy in the Orange Shirt decided to color his two-inch Russian nesting doll with eight markers crammed into his fist at once.

A six-year-old can almost run faster than me. We played race games in the gym at recess.  I wasn’t letting her win.  I was genuinely struggling to keep up.  And legitimately pleased when my hand slapped the green wall seconds before hers did.

Most parents pack a way cooler looking lunch than I do. (Why hasn’t anyone ever told me that silicone muffin holders make excellent snack holders when lodged inside a square plastic container?)

Bergen Hawkeye was actually well-behaved for his teacher. I mean, I was hopeful this was true – but I wanted to confirm my hopes.

Ukraine is not part of Russia. Whatever.  Geography is something I’m working on – alright?

You can calm a large group of children down quickly and effectively with the telling of a good story. They just can’t help themselves.  Every kid loves to be drawn into a story bigger than themselves.  (I watched Berg’s teacher begin reading a story and suddenly eighteen little mouths were silenced and thirty-six little feet were still.  It was a lovely sight to behold.)

You can always do more than you think you are capable of doing. One little fellow asked me if I could wipe his bum after his bathroom break.  “I’m not very good at it,” he stated.  I took a deep breath, thought of my Hawkeye and did what I hoped some other mom would do if my son ever asked the same question.  I wiped his bum.  And I lived to share the anecdote.

Other kids’ poop smells worse than your own kid’s poop. I did wipe the bum.  I really didn’t mind.  (Six kids in – you learn to do what must be done.)  However, at the end of my helping I must have breathed in or something.  I don’t know.  I just know that the second the smell was in my nose, the vomit was suddenly in my mouth.  I washed my hands and tried to think happy thoughts.  I held the vomit down by sheer will power.  Little first grader said, “The toilet isn’t flushing.”  I foolishly looked over.  He was right.  And the poop water was rising in the toilet just as the vomit was rising in my throat again.  Clutching at any mental strength I had remaining, I swallowed hard, backed out of the shrinking bathroom and instructed my young friend to back away as well.  “Let’s get help – just in case, you know.”

Being in the classroom for six hours feels way longer than six hours. Which would explain why when our family finally landed at home (after cleaning the classroom, stopping by the bank, dropping off the milk money, picking up our eggs from another local farmer) we all crashed on the couch together.  I let the kids watch Jungle Book and served them giant bowls of popcorn sprinkled generously with pretzel m&m’s.  (No one’s fooled though, the pretzel m&m’s were really for Mommy.)

Next week my volunteer duty is stationed in Willow’s classroom.  I can’t wait to see what a passel of four-year-olds will be teaching me.