Published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat, Weekend Edition on Dec. 16, 2011
This concludes the Kindergarten Chronicles. I can’t write further on this topic, because I don’t want to be accused (falsely or rightly) of being long-winded.
I started this series (doesn’t that sound official?) to recap a few stupid things I had done when my youngest daughter entered kindergarten several years ago. Obviously, I cannot cover all that material in just three weeks. On her first day of school, my daughter fell asleep at story time. I had gotten her up early to complete projects due on the first day.
Later that year, my daughter was on the losing end of a battle with a bottle (Dr. Seuss, anyone?) of Wite-Out®. In case you didn’t know it, Wite-Out® is pretty tough to take off of skin. On brown people, it is also pretty conspicuous.
The stuff just sinks in through the epidermis. I tried many remedies. Soap and water? Forget it. Acetone? Nope. Not even my standby, Germ-X, which can wipe Sharpie marker off of things, could touch this stuff.
My daughter could have been an advertisement for the company. “Wite-Out®. We refuse to be corrected.” Or: “Wite-Out®. Once we’re on the job, you can’t get us off.”
I felt ridiculous, sending in a clean, adorably dressed little girl with bouncing and shiny hair all topped off with several streaks of Wite-Out® across her nose. Apart from the subtle commentary it might inspire, that the child had been subconsciously trying to “correct” her skin color, I was more worried about the more obvious, overt message: This child’s mother is inept.
Who lets a five-year-old play with Wite-Out® anyway? She was trying to fix a patch on a color-by-number where she had botched the color. Bent close to the paper as she slathered the Wite-Out®, she accidentally spackled her nose as well. The opaque white stuff happily sank into her skin.
For three days, she wore those white stripes across her nose. I struggled to get it off. Meanwhile, we dubbed her Chief Wite-Out® and told her she looked great with war paint. After three or four days, I set to work picking off the flakes carefully and gently with my fingernails. Sometimes, you just get desperate. She was quite happy to be demoted from chief to princess.
My final and most noteworthy episode involved a project in spring. Each child was to bring in an item that depicted springtime, and write a few sentences about it. Wouldn’t you know it? Just a few days before this project was due, we happened to run across (not over) a disabled bumblebee in our driveway. It was huge, but unable to fly. At most, when agitated, it would desperately set about buzzing its wings.
I captured (doesn’t that sound dramatic?) the bee and put it into a clear, plastic tub with holes poked into it. We offered it a grape sliced in half, and watched the bee board this edible shuttle. She sat and sucked up all the juice right out of the grape. We offered her other foods as well, and were amazed to watch her eat. Figuring worker insects like bees and ants are female, my daughter named it “Missy.”
When considering what to send to school, I proposed the brilliant plan: “Hey, let’s send in Missy! That’s a sign of springtime, isn’t it?”
Her eyes lit up. This is the beauty of young children. They like you. They like your suggestions.
I’ll have to admit that the bee was not in the most secure container ever designed. In terms of technology – it was akin to diapers available in the 80’s. Sometimes, those things leaked. This was a round tub in which we had bought pitted dates. It was taped around the edges, and stationed upside down on its lid. Sometimes, I’m just resourceful like that.
Don’t ask me why, but suddenly, in the middle of the day, I had the uncanny feeling that maybe, just maybe, sending a live bumblebee in a makeshift container might not have been the best idea, despite the official approval of a kindergartener. Some children might be freaked out by insects, especially fat, furry ones with a reputation for stinging. Sometimes, I’m just insightful that way.
I emailed my daughter’s teacher, Mrs. Mary Stright, asking if it had been okay to send in a live bee. (Note to self: Permission is better sought prior to an event.) Her response was to the point. Some children were afraid and some were allergic. I suppose if I had been in Mrs. Stright’s and Mrs. Penn’s shoes, trapped in a room with lots of little people and a bee in a shaky container, I would have been direct too.
But imagine that! Only a kindergarten teacher could respond so succinctly, and alliteratively, featuring the Letter A. “Afraid and Allergic.”
Mrs. Mary C. Stright and Mrs. June Penn have been collectively teaching in Fauquier County for over fifty years. (I hope I’m not the most memorable parent they’ve encountered in this time.) They are a phenomenally academic team, but their classroom is also filled with lots of love and laughter, AND a little record player for the kids to dance to.
I hope your child has the good fortune to be in their class at CM Bradley. Just try to hold off on sending in bees, okay?
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