Holidays Are About Forgiveness

I've actually had a few first-graders, and even some second-graders, ask me to weigh in on the virtues of Santa Claus. Some believe. Some don't.  Some seem to look at me as an easy target and just ask me.

"I believe in Santa," is my usual response. This is immediately followed with "I don't believe Santa's going to help you with that worksheet/math/writing (or whatever the students are working on) right now. Now get busy." Then I 'get them busy' with what they're supposed to be doing.

Once upon a time, Santa Claus was a sore subject with me. I actually held a grudge against the jolly old elf for a few years.

You see, my early aspirations in life could be considered by some to be unsavory. Little me was certain that when I grew up I would be a thief, an arsonist, a con, a pirate or some type of criminal, albeit an extremely successful and rich one.

The way I saw it, I needed to cover my bases and try out several career paths before determining which would be most successful for me. My sisters encouraged me to move on when they found I'd discovered the hiding spots they created for their allowances. Again.

So the next logical place to go from petty thievery was piracy. And seeing how close it was to Christmas, I thought it would be easier just to go to St. Nick than my parents for the tools of my new trade. I wrote Santa a fairly detailed letter that year. I used my considerable writing skills so as not to alarm Santa to my actual plans.

...a Frisbee, black powder, a Slinky, a deck mounting cannon, a basketball, 5 pound lead cannon balls, a disc sled, a boarding axe...

I was really looking forward to getting that cannon. I had planned to test it prior to mounting it on my father's 14-foot, fiberglass sailboat. The kaboom would be so cool.

Needless to say, there was no kaboom. The cannon never came. Santa did NOT come through for me! I harbored a grudge against him, as I said, for several years.

Somewhere along the way, I changed paths completely and dedicated myself to good. Had I received a cannon at such a young age, there would have been a high probability of me blowing myself up.

So I've written Santa, yet again, to set things right. Old grudges have been forgiven and he needn't have any fear of coming to my house. Of course, I'm sure he's forgiven me for trying to stay up Christmas Eve with my air pellet rifle trained on the fireplace...

Life Lessons, First-Grader Style

It seems there have been a ton of self-help books written that teach you all about life's lessons. Trust me, I know. I've read a few of them myself. Each one of them claims to have "the answer" you're looking for.

Yeah. Right.

After paying close attention to my first-graders, I have learned that these six and seven year-olds hold a wealth of knowledge. In fact, here are some of life's real lessons that I have culled from my observations of these little ones in action.

Pitching a fit wont fix anything, but it sure is fun!

When in doubt, suck your thumb (or other digit of preference).

Your birthday trumps anything. You shouldn't have to do anything on your birthday.

If you don't know what to do, either draw on something or don't do anything at all.

If you don't know the answer to a question that's posed to you, point to yourself and say, "You mean me, (insert teacher's name here)?"

Anytime is a good time to crawl under a desk.

If you're unsure of something, poke it with a sharp pencil.

Almost anything can be eaten, whether it's edible or not.

Stickers and stamps have magical powers. They make the world go round.

Band-Aids fix anything that hurts. No wound is too small for a Band-aid.

Your neighbor always has better markers (dry erase or permanent), crayons, pencils, highlighters or erasers than you do.

Anytime's a good time to dig for gold (you know what I mean). A kid's got to do what a kid's got to do!

And my favorite? Easy... There's no problem too big or complex that you can't hide from it in the bathroom!

Bermuda Triangle Secrets Discovered!

After spending extensive time as a first grade teachers assistant (nearly three years, now), I've made a startling discovery. First-graders are really aliens in disguise!

There is a slim possibility that I may be wrong about this one. In fact, my alternate theory is that my first-graders really are just kids, but they can communicate directly with extraterrestrials!

Where's your evidence, you may ask. I give you exhibit A -- Dee (obviously NOT her real name!). Dee likes to walk around and mark on everyone's work. To mere mortals and school teachers, the marks look remarkably like scribbles.

What she is really doing is writing the same message over and over again! By writing the same message multiple times, it's more likely to be seen and read by those keeping an eye on us. You know, the 'ones' with whom she is communicating. Pretty sneaky!

Then there's exhibit B, Bo (not his real name, either!). Not as subtle as Dee, Bo likes to teleport within the confines of the classroom.

"Bo," I say, sternly. "Get off the computer and park it at your desk!"

"I am at my desk, Mr. Haworth." And, sure enough, there he is, sitting at his desk.

"Bo," I say again a millisecond later. "Please get out of your cubby and sit down!"

"I am sitting, Mr. Haworth." Again, there he is, sitting in his seat. 

It's almost creepy how he does that.

The secret to the Bermuda Triangle lies within the minds of these first-graders.

Like the squadron of planes that disappeared, inexplicable classroom phenomena have taken place under my watch.

Pencils, pencil sharpeners, crayons and markers have been known to disappear without a trace. I've even had an entire table disappear! Strange leaks have occurred around the water fountains and sinks. I think I've even seen single shoes laying around, though I've never spotted a kid wearing only one shoe...

And then there are the amazing moving desks. Whether the kids sit at them or not, they slowly rotate around the room, like a rotisserie on super slo-mo.

I've analyzed the details and here are the facts. I'm an assistant in three classrooms. A triangle has three sides (and three vertices! First grade info!). Three strikes and you're on red. Three colors for behavior. Three parts of a story (beginning, middle and end). Eighteen students per class, which is divisible by three! I could go on.

Rest assured that when my rooms begin humming, my kids' eyes start glowing and the water fountain water begins bubbling, I will be in the principal's office. We will be discussing my million dollar contract or my immediate transferral!

Goodbye, Summer!

News flash: school is right around the corner. As a teachers assistant who is nearly staring at three brand new classes of first-graders, I can't help but contemplate over the past summer. No matter how you dice it, this summer has been a rough one.

We didn't even make it to the pool this summer! Of course, that's probably because we didn't even join the pool this summer. With the increased membership cost, I thought it might be more economical to install an in-ground pool in my back yard! Perhaps I'll start digging next May, weather permitting...

This summer hasn't really been a complete bust. The family Kiawah vacation went smoothly, I can add alligators to my unusual list of fishing catches and I seem to have significantly reduced the population of fleas currently cohabitating in my home!

And, happily... No. I mean sadly... Wait, whatever. As of this writing, I have not yet kicked my dependency problem and, because of that, pizza remains a constant staple in my diet.

And then add to that the fact that I got an iPhone. That, actually, could be taken either way. I'm still in the process of getting the hang of this thing. I've just discovered you can change fonts in the notebook! Nifty!

The 'mustard bandits' struck again early this summer. It seems that they have upgraded to grocery carts, though. After sporting a caved in door nearly the whole summer, it took me and my son all of 45 seconds to fix it with a wet, soapy toilet plunger.

And I thought the neighbor who told me about the plunger was crazy for suggesting it. Who knew?

Sadly enough, the freeze pop diet still remains a work in progress, along with all the other potential diets. Also, my back deck remains hot tub-less.

Good news, though! There's always next summer...