Morning Fog

The truth

on December 6, 2007

I hate working. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

On the other hand, I love my job. I love it, I love it, I love it.

That’s perfectly logical, right?

Maybe not everybody’s idea of a perfect job is spending several hours per day in a room full of six-year-olds, but it could be a lot worse.

There is just one little boy I need to have more patience with. Please, give me more patience.

Today, we were talking about how advent is a time for preparing for Jesus’ birth. The question was posed about what they might have done to prepare for family events. One boy volunteers his sister’s baptism. Another a wedding, and another a graduation.
But my little patience-tryer in the back, eagerly waving his hand with an excited look on his face said, “worship” when I called on him. Only he has some speech issues, so it sounded like “wowasip.” I decoded what he meant, but wow, what did it mean really? I dread calling on him because I get answers like that, but I don’t want to discourage him either. But at least we have finally negotiated our way around so that his ONLY problems are things like that. The first couple of months were very trying with him, let me tell you. His behavior was so bizarre, in so many ways, that I find myself wondering if they secretly had him diagnosed with something and have medicated him, because he has become a non-event while he used to be the show stopper.

My other patience-tryer is single handedly bringing back the phrase “slow as molasses.” And that only describes her on a good day. On a bad day, people stopped at a red light move faster than she does. Everything distracts and confuses her. She’s bright, just so s-l-o-w, and so distractable, that she gets very little done. Perchance another child with meds in her future.

Having said that, I don’t like the idea of medicating kids. At all.
However, sometimes one or two hit you in the face with behavior so far off the norm that you have to wonder if it isn’t worth it.

The rest of ’em though…the rest of them are so adorable that I can’t stand it. And that is why I love my job. They are so sweet and eager and innocent and cute and helpful…I wish I could bottle it and give a few doses to some older kids I know.


2 responses to “The truth

  1. cardiogirl says:

    Uh, just hearing this I have to say you have the patience of a saint.

    I would scream my head off (because my new anti-anxiety meds have not kicked in yet and I am pissed off *right now* just reading about this).

    Then I would tell the class, “Mrs. Cardiogirl is taking a time out in the hallway. Talk about Jesus, I’ll be back in a minute.”

  2. Rosietoes says:

    Your Slow little girl? Check out Central Auditory Processing Disorder and see if it fits the bill. If you give her a string of instructions, does she omit some, or just stop in confusion?

    Seriously, write me back if this sounds like her, because E.Rose has this, and I can give some good suggestions for dealing with it.

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