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Kindergardeners Ate My Brain!!
Mar. 16th, 2009 12:20 pmThis morning I volunteered to be a chaperone for a trip to the Dodge Nature Center. Here in Minnesota the sap has started to run (finally! We cracked 50F ABOVE this weekend, and it's already 60F today), and the Center gives kids a chance to identify a Maple tree in situ (in the wild!) and tap it. Then they showed us how the Maple sap is turned into syrup (lots of boiling), and they let us taste maple syrup, maple sugar, and maple sap -- the last, one child apply described as tasting a bit like a wet stick. I had to try it too, of course, and I'd have to agree. It tasted VERY green, almost like grass.
It was a lot of fun. I love going on these kinds of adventures because, as most of you who know me already realize, I'm a bit of a big kid, myself. I have to bite my tongue to keep from raising my hand and joining in when they ask questions like: "What signs of spring have YOU seen?" Oh! Oh! I know!
But the bus ride home was... exuberant.
Plus there's something about me (maybe that kid in a big person's body thing) that attracts small children. They want to tell me about the cool rocket ships on their underwear, what their little sister eats for breakfast, and how their mom won $300 playing pool. I'm sure this is pretty common when there's ANY guest in the classroom, but I think I encourage it because 1) I like kids, 2) I look kids in the eye, and 3) I often initate discussion with kids. It's the old I-used-to-teach-cartooning-in-afterschool/weekend-programs part of me. And, I think, I tend to be genuinely fascinated with what children have to say. I love how their minds work, and how they can find a story in the most mundane things. You know, everything is new when you're five... and that's awesome. (I think they can tell *I* think it's awesome too.)
Despite the awesome, I'm pooped and, more than that, I feel overwhelmed with things that haven't gotten done yet today. Somehow, yesterday, we managed to use every single dish in the house... and they're _all_ in the dirty pile near the sink. My tetras' tank needs changing. The book(s) aren't writing themselves. I need to transfer the video of the concert to CD/thumb drive for a friend. My .mp3 player needs loading before I go work out tomorrow morning. The kitty litter needs changing. It's my turn to write on the group blog where they think I'm boring (and today I am.)
And I want to nap.
Tomorrow is Saint Patrick's day. I know many of you out there have already celebrated it, but here in St. Paul things start at tomorrow's Mass at the Cathedral. I'm going to have to check the paper for the time of the parade, as I'm thinking about checking it out. I wish I'd have thought ahead, because I would have taken Mason out of school. His mom is Irish and I like to pretend I am, but it really doesn't get much more British than MOREHOUSE (outside of my cousin, whose surname is BRAITHEWAITE.) My heritage is actually very south eastern European: Czech (my great-grandmother's naturalization papers list her country of origin as Bohemia!), Polish, and German being the strongest bits. But I probably know more about Irish history than your average American. I can sing nearly every Irish rebel song ever written, and I know at least two words in Irish (and one of them is probably even repeatable.) Why the fascination with Ireland and the Irish? Past life? Celtic ancestors who settled on the Danube? Too much Renaissance Festival? Who knows.
Anyway, I should off to try to salvage part of the day. Maybe I can get a couple dishes done before it's time to pick up Mason.
It was a lot of fun. I love going on these kinds of adventures because, as most of you who know me already realize, I'm a bit of a big kid, myself. I have to bite my tongue to keep from raising my hand and joining in when they ask questions like: "What signs of spring have YOU seen?" Oh! Oh! I know!
But the bus ride home was... exuberant.
Plus there's something about me (maybe that kid in a big person's body thing) that attracts small children. They want to tell me about the cool rocket ships on their underwear, what their little sister eats for breakfast, and how their mom won $300 playing pool. I'm sure this is pretty common when there's ANY guest in the classroom, but I think I encourage it because 1) I like kids, 2) I look kids in the eye, and 3) I often initate discussion with kids. It's the old I-used-to-teach-cartooning-in-afterschool/weekend-programs part of me. And, I think, I tend to be genuinely fascinated with what children have to say. I love how their minds work, and how they can find a story in the most mundane things. You know, everything is new when you're five... and that's awesome. (I think they can tell *I* think it's awesome too.)
Despite the awesome, I'm pooped and, more than that, I feel overwhelmed with things that haven't gotten done yet today. Somehow, yesterday, we managed to use every single dish in the house... and they're _all_ in the dirty pile near the sink. My tetras' tank needs changing. The book(s) aren't writing themselves. I need to transfer the video of the concert to CD/thumb drive for a friend. My .mp3 player needs loading before I go work out tomorrow morning. The kitty litter needs changing. It's my turn to write on the group blog where they think I'm boring (and today I am.)
And I want to nap.
Tomorrow is Saint Patrick's day. I know many of you out there have already celebrated it, but here in St. Paul things start at tomorrow's Mass at the Cathedral. I'm going to have to check the paper for the time of the parade, as I'm thinking about checking it out. I wish I'd have thought ahead, because I would have taken Mason out of school. His mom is Irish and I like to pretend I am, but it really doesn't get much more British than MOREHOUSE (outside of my cousin, whose surname is BRAITHEWAITE.) My heritage is actually very south eastern European: Czech (my great-grandmother's naturalization papers list her country of origin as Bohemia!), Polish, and German being the strongest bits. But I probably know more about Irish history than your average American. I can sing nearly every Irish rebel song ever written, and I know at least two words in Irish (and one of them is probably even repeatable.) Why the fascination with Ireland and the Irish? Past life? Celtic ancestors who settled on the Danube? Too much Renaissance Festival? Who knows.
Anyway, I should off to try to salvage part of the day. Maybe I can get a couple dishes done before it's time to pick up Mason.