I've Seen Kindergarten From Both Sides Now

Stacey's already into week four with her kindergarten kids in the classroom.  I've seen all eight of her charges up close and they are absolutely darling.  Upper grade teachers stop and fawn over them as Stacey parades them single file through the hallways en route to art, music, gym class, or wherever they may need to go. 
                                                                                                                                                              . 
During week one, being week one, single file was a very loose definition of the hallway formation.  Back then, the wished for line more closely resembled  a can of worms when a fisherman sticks a finger down in the container and pokes around for bait.  Lots of wiggling, squirming, and entanglement.

By week four, quiet has taken on an entirely new meaning versus week one.  The line's decibel level then was roughly the equivalent of a busy Seoul market.  I'm pleased to report that Stacey's repeated shushings along with the bestowal of over four thousand scratch and sniff stickers have worked magic.  Single file has begun to resemble single file and whispering abounds.  It's funny though how one solution can create a new problem.  When the reward sticker is applied to the back of the hand, each student sniffs at it and then attempts to stick a hand up the nearest kid's nose so as to share the pleasant, bubblegum aroma.

This is not just hearsay.  I've witnessed it all firsthand.  To those of you who know me well or perhaps even a little, did I hear you gasp?  After years and years of failing to lure me, Stacey has finally persuaded me to assist in the classroom when students are present.  With a remarkable lack of tasty craft beers to hunt down in Korea, I was finally able to free up some time to accommodate her wishes.

Now, don't go worrying about my health and start thinking, "Rod, that's great, but don't overdo it."  I only help out a little at the end of a few days each week.  But even with limited hours, it's demanding work.  I'm beginning to understand "frazzled". 

Since I'm such a great helper, Stacey has begun to occasionally suggest that it would be nice if I could show up every afternoon from half past one to half past three.  That smacks of a full-time job to me and I'm not sure I want any part of it.  Flextime suits me fine.  I am having fun in the classroom though, and kindergarten has definitely become a part of my very being.

Stacey and I had Korean language class one late afternoon last week.  It turned out to be a private lesson with our tutor, Miss Emily, since our fellow classmates (other new teachers) were gone on retreat.  Miss Emily is divinity embodied.  She teaches Korean literature and language and is very deserving of accolades and awards.  Think of the kindest, most diligent teacher you ever had.  That's Miss Emily.  And then, she tells us she's honored to have us in her class.  That's Korea.  You can't help but love it here.

Beginners need to begin at the beginning no matter how old.  Remember worksheets from back in kindergarten and maybe first grade on which you'd trace dotted lines so as to learn the correct strokes of letter formation.  The characters of the Korean alphabet are entirely new to Stacey and I, so back to the worksheets we went.  Under the watchful eye of Miss Emily, Stacey and I sat and traced dotted line Korean equivalents of "A" and "B" and so on.

It was somewhat humbling to be back at kindergarten level as a student and, suddenly, an empathy and awareness of the challenges and travails of a young learner enveloped me.  And just as suddenly, another awareness hit me.  As Miss Emily spoke, I sprang from my chair and headed for the door.

"Where are you going, Rod?", Miss Emily asked. 

"I gotta go potty," I replied unabashed. 

"Well, go ahead, but next time try to do that before we begin," she instructed.

I broke into a dead run, flung the classroom door open, and lit out for the restroom.

Having finished my business, I took great delight in splashing water around in the washbasin and making a mountain of soapsuds.  Unannounced, Miss Emily poked her head into the restroom doorway.  "Remember bathroom manners, Rod," she intoned lovingly.  "Do you need time in the thinking chair?"

"No...No," I squealed as I squirted past her and ran back to the classroom.

With a momentary return to order, Miss Emily revealed an ink pad and alphabet character stamps that we could use to stamp out combinations to form simple words.  Stacey and I, side by side, worked dutifully attempting to create the short words presented by our teacher.  I was doing so good.  Suddenly, I had an urge to stamp a squiggly character on Stacey's arm.  Bullseye!

"Teacher, he stamped on me," Stacey exclaimed.

"Did not," I retorted.

"Did so," Stacey followed up as she held out her newly emblazoned arm in full view for Miss Emily to see.

That was the last straw.  It was off to the thinking chair for me for the remainder of the lesson.

By dismissal time, Stacey had earned sticker upon sticker for her good works and deeds.  I was stickerless but for the one Stacey had shoved up my nose as she shared the sweet, bubblegum scented smell of success.  Smarty pants!