metaphortunate son (
metaphortunate) wrote2012-12-11 10:47 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Entry tags:
chorus of screaming
The Junebug's daycare, I swear to God. I mean, I love them. They're great. But they send home this twice-yearly evaluation of how the baby is doing, and it features statements like "The Junebug has been working on his body coordination and balance, and has been using his oral senses to learn about objects and their textures." Translation: the Junebug has been running around picking up things and stuffing them in his mouth. I mean, yay! Developmentally appropriate! Incidentally adorable! But come on. Most days they also do write-ups of what the kids did that day, with pictures, which is adorable and provides a nice afternoon mental break. One time it included "In the afternoon, the children spontaneously gathered by the window on their own to have a chorus of screaming..." Wow, yes, that is one amazing example of independent group organization amongst toddlers there, and dear preschool teacher, I do not even know if that means I should offer you any Xanax I might have somewhere left over from grad school, or if it's a sign that you're aaaaaall good.
no subject
Hell, now that mine are into their elementary years the choruscating screams can get up to a really serious volume.
no subject
DYING.
no subject
no subject
-J
no subject
no subject
-J
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Do you think it's a San Francisco thing?
no subject
no subject
no subject
We get weekly all-daycare newsletters that feature different sets of rooms each time. A few weeks ago, the Pip's room was up, and this is what his blurb said: "[The Pip] is into everything and anything. Now that he can walk, he likes to bring stuff with him. He thinks the high chairs are meant to be walking toys! He also likes to try and move around the cribs. Even though [he] is always on the go, he finds time to snuggle with his teachers."
So, a _little_ different philosophy of reporting, there . . .
no subject
no subject
One of my fondest memories remains the time I dropped SteelyKid at daycare and she and her BFF immediately started playing peek-a-boo around the rocking chair. They were about 14 months old.
no subject
"Noboru poked me in the eye with a tiny plastic golf club today. He apologized, though, and it was *probably* an accident? I'm calling today a win."
And they should've been more like,
"Noboru exhibited good hand-eye-coordination and spatial sense in his effective use of a tiny plastic golf club. He practiced empathy by spontaneously apologizing for the results of this practice (viz, he got my eye)."
no subject
no subject
no subject
At least if you are an Official Teacher What you can think fondly of your 401K. :P
no subject
"About a month ago-we read about the brain and how new knowledge (through reading, problem solving, experimenting, cooperative learning, writing, recording, etc.) can "strengthen" our brains-as if we're forming new "wrinkles". At the front of my classroom I have a drawing of a brain and it says "Show My Your Wrinkles!". I encouraged students to write something they learned that made them feel as if they developed new "wrinkles" on their brain. Does that make sense? We are so busy that students don't always get around to adding any wrinkles to our brain. However, this week-we got our first wrinkle! AND I'll never forget it! This is what it says:
Theoretically time travel is possible. For more details-please ask me. -Sebastian
Well-I never taught time travel, but Sebastian recently started reading a book from my classroom library on the physics of Star Trek. He says the information in there "hurts [his] brain". Sebastian will have to enlighten us! :)"
All of which just makes me profoundly grateful we have professionals to do this.
(Stabilized wormholes. Nothing makes theoretical physics more confusing than having them explained by someone with a marginal grasp on fantasy/reality)
(I told my spouse the poop-and-honey story. Once he stopped laughing, he said, "Oh, poop and honey days, what can you do?")
no subject
no subject
no subject