31.7.11

I am a puppy kicker.

As a sometimes-teacher of small children, I've learned many helpful things. For example, it only took two days of student teaching an elementary music class before it was immediately apparent that each day was completely different from the last because all small children are manic in a way that I'll never quite understand.

Now, working on my own, I've quickly learned one very important lesson that trumps them all:


I should make that into a poster and put it in my classroom. It would be the most accurate teacher poster I've ever seen. Let's set the stage here for the events of this fateful day.

It's a day like any other in my music class with the four year old kindergarten. We're doing a circle activity about Valentine's Day using a very cutsey song about love and caring. One of my students who is usually incredibly well-behaved decides that it is vital at this very moment to ask her friend on the other side of the circle a question. We'll call this little girl "Allie," which may or may not be a result of my watching a rerun of "Everybody Loves Raymond" while writing this post.

Me: Allie, did you raise your hand?

Allie: No...

Me: Then was it your turn to talk?

Allie: No...

Me: Well, I know I can trust you to make the right choice and raise your hand next time.

Allie: *nods*

I was confident that I did this the right way. I still am. My tone was very gentle. I made sure to let the student reason out their behavior and decide on its appropriateness. I moved on from the situation with a compliment to her. I was right! Score one for my classroom management!

And yet, all that rightness didn't stop what was to come, for this is what I was met with about two seconds later from little Allie:


I was kind! I was nice! I didn't scold or chastise. I told her that I trust her to be good! And how does she repay me? With tears?

See, I'm convinced that one of the worst things you can do is make a four year old cry. Especially when this is one of the best behaved students in the entire grade, never one to make a scene. If you leave a legacy with your students, you want it to be a positive one, not one of psychological scarring.

This is the opposite of what you want.


So that's it. Today, I've killed a spirit. I'm as bad as someone who kicks puppys for fun. The lowest of the low.

I had to register on the Puppy Kickers "Benji's Law" website too.

Alright. Time to salvage the situation. I do my best to assure her that she isn't in any trouble! She doesn't even have a time out! Still, the tears are flowing and she's doing that thing where you're crying and you suck in air over your lower lip and hyperventilate. Wonderful. It's bad enough that she's crying, now I'm going to make her pass out.

Me: Allie, come here.

I'm sitting on the floor as a part of this circle, so I'm down on "their level." In college, we learned that it's a great way to avoid intimidating small children. Now before me is this sobbing mess of a four year old and I'm trying to figure out how to stop it.

Me: Allie, you arent in any trouble. At all. You're always so good in here and I know you'll make the ri-

Allie: *Throws arms forward and falls around my shoulders crying harder than ever while hugging me*

I'm flabbergasted. Not only did I make her cry, she's hugging me. Here's a kid who cares so much about being a good kid that she not only becomes hysterical when she realizes she's fallen short, she feels so bad about disappointing me that she's hugging me. In my head, I'm slipping BELOW puppy-kicker.


Ok. Enough is enough. I need to get her attention.

Me: Allie, look at- Look! - Allie! Allie? Look at me! At me! Look!

Finally she stands up, still red-faced and sniffling. I tell her again that she's not in any trouble, and that I'd love it if she'd go get a drink of water and come back to our circle and be a part of the activity. This time, the message somehow gets through and she sits down.

In hindsight, I'm absolutely positive that this was more scarring for me than it was for her. She'll grow up like a normal kid. In 20 years, I'll wake up in a cold sweat remembering the time that I was worse than a puppy kicker.

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