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Kindergarten

   

A kindergarten teacher had a pupil tell her he had found a frog.  She inquired as to whether it was alive or dead. "Dead," she was informed.
"How do you know?" she asked.
"Because I pissed in his ear," said the child innocently.
"You did WHAT?" squealed the teacher in surprise.
"You know," explained the boy, "I leaned over and went 'Pssst'.
He didn't move."


PERHAPS I am old-fashioned about male and female roles, but I thought that my son was spending too much time playing with dolls in kindergarten.  I suggested he play with bricks or puzzles.  The next day he came home and said he had played with the dolls, but that I shouldn't mind.  "I wasn't their mother," he explained. "I was their granny this time."


I TOOK my preschool class and some of their siblings out to the Kelowna Airport to greet the Queen. The parent-helpers and I had to supervise close to 50 excited children. They had all brought lunches, books and toys to keep themselves occupied during the two-hour wait. It was difficult to stay together in such a vast crowd, and one five-year-old became quite concerned when he couldn't find his older brother. I told him that his brother was perfectly safe with one of the helpers, so he didn't have to worry about him. "Yes, I do!" the child exclaimed indignantly. "He's got our lunch!"


SINCE children say what they think in a straight forward way, nothing means more to a teacher than a child's compliment. So you can imagine the warm glow Mrs. Hudson felt when a little girl slipped her hand shyly into hers and said, "Mrs. Hudson, do you know who is the prettiest teacher in the school?" "No. Who is?" "Miss Wilson."


SMALL boy to his teacher: "I don't want to frighten you, but my dad said if my marks don't improve, somebody is going to be spanked."


A LITTLE girl had just finished her first week of school.   "I'm wasting my time," she said to her mother.  "I can't read, I can't write - and they won't let me talk!"


As A kindergarten teacher, I am accustomed to the animated chatter of five-year-olds, but one boy's comments made me chuckle. He had been to a Winnipeg-Edmonton hockey match, and the next morning was glowing over having seen "the great" Gretzky. "Did he do anything spectacular?" I asked. "He sure did!" the boy nodded enthusiastically. "He scored three goals and insisted on two others!"


AT THE elementary school in St. Bruno, Que., where I work, I was assigned one day early in the year to substitute for the regular kindergarten teacher.   I met her five-year-old pupils at the bus in front of the school, and thinking to reassure them that nothing was wrong, I said, "Children, I am Miss Epps today."   Everything seemed to be fine.  Before the end of the morning, however, I heard one little girl say to another sitting next to her, "She's not Miss Epps!"   "I know," the other one replied, "but she wants to be Miss Epps.   Let's just pretend, shall we?"


HAVING been a competitive gymnast, I'm a stickler on form.   Some time ago I was teaching a class of three and four year olds.  I demonstrated a forward roll, explaining every move until the roll was fully executed.   "Now," I said, "I want you to do exactly what I just did.  Do you have any questions?"  A wide-eyed youngster timidly raised her hand.   "Miss Michele," she asked, "how do we make our knees crack?"


IT WAS my first year of teaching in Newfoundland, and when spring finally arrived I decided to teach the kindergarten children a song about spring.   As an introduction to the song, I asked the children if they could tell me what season it was.  After several seconds of silence, one little boy looked at me rather incredulously and said, "Why, miss, everybody knows it's lobster season!"


I AM a kindergarten teacher in Toronto, where my class includes children from many countries.  I try to help them bridge the gap between the ways of their old and new homelands.  The parents of one Vietnamese child are obviously wrestling with the same problem.  On his registration form, among telephone numbers where they can be reached in emergencies, they listed his father's workplace:   The Ho Li Day INN.


ONE morning my five-year-old niece was taking forever to get dressed for school.  Her mother finally decided to help her.  "What's the matter, Martha?" her mother asked.  "You're going to be late, and you don't want to miss school."  "I'd rather stay home and miss school," a little voice answered forlornly, "than go to school and miss home."


WHEN I was a kindergarten teacher in Montreal, there was a request from a mother who wanted her retarded six-year-old son, Adam, to attend the class.   I said I would take him on trial if I could present the problem to my class of five-year-olds.  The next day I asked them if they could remember what it was like the first day they came to school.  "You didn't know the other children, you didn't know me, and you didn't want to leave your mother."  There was immediate agreement.  I said a boy wanted to come to school, that he was big but young in his mind, and he wouldn't understand or learn as quickly as they did.  I explained that I could not take him unless they helped.  Adam was whole heartedly accepted and seemed quite over come by the warmth of his reception.  The next September I was moved to another school.  One day while walking along the street, I heard someone calling my name.  A small boy ran to me crying "Teacher, Teacher, Adam read today."   Not only had his concern lasted a year but he knew I would share his delight.


MY NEIGHBOR, a primary-school teacher, asked one of her pupils, an adopted child, how he felt about his mother's pregnancy. "Wonderful," the student replied. "And this is her first baby from scratch!"


The kindergarten class had a homework assignment to find out about something exciting and relate it to the class the next day. When the time came for the little kids to give their reports, the teacher was calling on them one at a time.
  She was reluctant to call upon little Johnnie, knowing that he sometimes could be a bit crude.  But eventually his turn came. Little Johnnie walked up to the front of the class, and with a piece of chalk, made a small white dot on the blackboard, then sat back down.
  Well the teacher couldn't figure out what Johnnie had in mind for his report on something exciting, so she asked him just what that was. "It's a period," reported Johnnie.
  "Well I can see that," she said. "But what is so exciting about a period."
  "Damned if I know," said Johnnie, "but this morning my sister said she missed one. Then Daddy had a heart attack, Mommy fainted and the man next door shot himself."
   

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Last updated May 19, 2008 by Becquet's Custom Programming