Little Bodies

“Sure. I will do it.” I cheerfully agreed when asked to substitute teach the pre-school and Kindergarten classes together. Their teachers were expected to arrive soon and I had been sad about not teaching, even though it was a decision I had made. “It’s only five days,” I thought to myself. As the assistant principal, I knew I had to be ready to jump on any “project” assigned to me. I wasn’t the least bit intimidated. Plus, I had taught these ages before. “I’ve got this,” I thought. No worries. Ha. The next morning I headed into the courtyard to meet “my class.” Standing in the traditional location where kids line up, I called out that it was time to head inside. After a muffle of confusion, I looked up to find six little bodies standing in front of me. Four of them were Korean, one half-Polish/half-Egyptian and one half South African/half Egyptian. One of the Korean children understood English, the other three who’s heads barely reached the top of our giant orange traffic cones, looked up with clear confusion and disorientation of what was happening. As I began to walk inside, thinking they were right behind me, I turned to realize they were standing exactly where I had left them. Clueless. I walked back toward them trying to get them to follow me inside to their classroom. They didn’t understand. “Follow me,” I gently stated. Nothing. Finally I grabbed some of their hands and led them to the class. “Why was that such an ordeal?” I thought. I mean WOW.

Once inside I asked them to sit down. Normally, this would be the time they would unpack, and begin getting acquainted with the other children in the class, but reality struck again as they began chattering excitedly in Korean. They didn’t understand what was going on, and apparently, neither did I. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The principal entered holding all of their backpacks and lunch boxes. “They are going to need these,” the said grinning. It was obvious she could see how spazzed out the morning had become. I laughed, at the pure chaos leading to how no one in that room remembered the those key items. I felt totally out of control of the situation. Seven hours before me…oh dear.

They came running over all talking at once trying to get me to give them their backpacks. We were able to get them distributed, water bottles out, and then I tried to demonstrate where we would hang them in the mornings. Oh right, they don’t understand. NAMES. I need to learn their names. By now they were running around laughing, teasing, and chasing one another. They were pulling toys off the shelves and going right to work on their creativity. “NO”…please put the toys back, we are not ready for them yet.” The three that didn’t understand didn’t budge, they kept playing and chatting. The others looked at me to see what I would do, as in, would I enforce what I had just stated? I then went up to each of the Koreans and removed the toys from their hands. At this sight, they understood and began returning all the items back to their exact places…neatly. Wow. I was impressed. I placed each child in a chair. Yes, I had to do it physically because the phrase “sit down” was just gibberish to some of them. Now for the fun part…pronouncing their names. For those that have spent time with little ones, it doesn’t take long to realize that small kids are untactfully BLUNT…the most honest little creatures in existence. A lot of times it can be down right hysterical…they open their mouths and you find yourself in utter shock at what they stated. But this day, I was scared. I knew I would butcher their names. Seeing as how Korean is a tonal language, and my experience with these types of pronunciations was ZERO, I knew I would have to try hard…and pray for some ounce of grace.

I began explaining to them about what we were going to do, and the eldest, who is bilingual in Korean and English, translated. The second I opened my mouth and began speaking, one of the little boys with the sweetest dimples in the world, slapped his hand against his mouth and began giggling uncontrollably…thus causing the whole group to start giggling. He thought my English was funny. I couldn’t help but join in. There I stood, amongst a group of tiny four year olds, all laughing hysterically. Once they calmed down I asked them for their names. Of course as I tried to imitate the name of the first child, they once again all erupted into laughter. Yep. I was totally off on this. After trying a few awkward attempts, I quickly turned to the next child. He was not as gracious. With a pure look of disgust, he just kept saying his name over and over again…slower and more stretched out…emphasizing the tone I kept missing, I tried to keep up but soon was lost. Ugh. Okay. Soon it was time for snack. “Easy” I thought. they will all sit down and eat…and I could take a break from this cloud of intimidation I was pouting under. But figuring out whose lunch box belonged to whom was not an easy chore. Once they were situated, I helped them choose an appropriate snack. The metal chopsticks and fancy cases suddenly appeared, and I found myself impressed at their fine motor skills. I allowed them to play together for a while on the rugs. As I set up stations for them of block patterns, puzzles, and animals, I realized that the tiniest child would not step on the rugs until he removed his shoes. Everytime. It was sweet. So disciplined, and I was impressed. He did not deviate from this, not once.

I decided to take them up to the giant sandbox on the roof. It was on the third floor. I “lined” them up, and began walking into the hall toward the stairs. As I looked behind me, I noticed they were headed out the front door. Oh no! I ran toward them and tried motioning that we were going up the stairs. It was not as easy as it sounds. Talking over them chattering to one another made it difficult for even a translation of directions to take place. Suddenly, one of the English speakers began RUNNING full speed ahead up the stairs…all three flights! They all followed. I gasped…no way for me to catch them or calm down the noisy stomping and laughing little ones. I was just certain a body was going to come rolling down towards me. But nope, they made it. The sandbox lasted about 12 minutes before I realized that one child found that throwing sand on other kids was more fun than building things. They got annoyed…began yelling at him, and so I removed him from the sandbox in fear we might end up in a giant sand storm of a fight. He was then awarded with the first time out of the year. Walking down the stairs was easier…however, some kids struggle with the balance it requires. Half of the class made it down quickly, thus running straight into the classroom, while I spent several minutes supervising the smallest child struggling with the giant wooden steps and railing. I finally picked him up and carried him. I could hear them in the distance, and was horrified at what was probably occurring in a classroom with no teacher supervision. I finally joined them. Do you have any idea the kind of trouble kids can get into in five whole minutes? In five seconds actually...Mental note: make sure I schedule time for transitions between activities involving the stairs.

Throughout the days adorable little quirks began popping up. One child kept removing his shoes and purposefully placing them on the wrong feet. Although to him, I figured they were “more comfortable” that way. At first, I kept correcting the mistake, but soon realized he liked them that way. Okay. No problem.

Another child came up to me pulling on himself between his legs. Thinking he needed to go potty, I gave him permission. “No” my little translator stated. “He wants water.” Confused, I asked him to ask the child again what he was trying to communicate. They spoke in Korean and he looked at me and again stated… “he wants to drink water.” Okay. I then found that this was his sign to me for when he was thirsty. Ha. Oh dear. Later on in the day it was time for them to go to Arabic class. Once again I found myself with the exhausting task of trying to get them to “line up” and calmly follow me up the stairs to the Arabic classroom. Hearing me laughing at the drama of this moment and the apparent look of confusion on their adorable little faces, the principal entered. The sight before her of me attempting to make a line was more than she could handle and she lost it, bursting out in laughter. She then decided to "help me". Even the pair of us working together could not get them to understand how to make a line and follow one another quietly up the stairs. After a few minutes all six bodies were at the top of the landing. I couldn’t stop laughing...this was ridiculous on so many levels. I had a giant grin on my face as I entered the Arabic room. “This ought to be an adventure,” I thought to myself. “Here we are!” I stated with a huge smile. “Are you ready for us?” The teacher took one look at their tiny faces and confused looks and realized the task before her. “Most of these little ones don't speak English, do they?” she stated. “Nope.” I said with a giant smile. I couldn't help it. “What am I supposed to do with them,” she said wide eyed. “I have no clue…have fun...I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” I stated. Turning around quickly, I took off.

Throughout the course of those few days, I realized they all knew their ABC’s. One would break out singing, and the others would follow, at the top of their lungs, with interesting pronunciation, and strained faces from the volume they tried to attain…and so the the chorus would begin. Then they would repeat it. And then again. I would let them sing it three times in a row before I would execute the concert. I think they liked “knowing something” that they could all do together. It was sweet, but LOUD. Eventually, one would end up plugging his ears, and looking painfully annoyed. The others just giggled and giggled when it was over. Seriously they were so sweet...so little. One day I decided to try “rest time.” Umm…this was a failed attempt at some silence. Giggling and acrobatic little bodies could not lay still. What was I thinking? They are four...kids at this age can't help but wiggle wiggle...especially in new exciting surroundings. They were too excited…too much going on. So, I soon realized if I wanted them to sit still, I would have to create games that would require them to run. And ruuuuuuuuun they did….for thirty minutes as I directed a game about numbers. They were exhausted…thus asking to lay down. Ha. Mission accomplished. That week was a whirl wind of: painting, singing, exercising, climbing the rock wall, learning not to hit one another in the face, learning to line up, sit down, stand up, not pick the noses, not lay across the tables, not throwing temper tantrums, not throw sand, not scream, or take toys from others, to obey the teacher, to clean up our messes, to write our names, pronounce colors and numbers...and sit still...well sorta sit still. Whew. Those five days were one adventure after another. I quickly realized the importance of just laughing at this experience before me. There was no question in my mind that in no time they would be understanding English, and speaking it. Immersion works. It does. But wow. Longest five days…ever.