Atypical Day Part 1

That's more apt than 'A Typical Day' in my world.

I'd like to give you a glimpse of a single afternoon in the universe of Mental Daycare, Inc.

Reading back over the notes I took on Wednesday, November 9th, makes me smile.

Now this version will be missing a couple things. You won't be able to hear the sounds of 25 kids having fun. Or hear them arguing or knocking over the cups they LOVE to build towers and castles and forts and a million other things with. You won't hear them discussing ways to make the hot wheels cars go EVEN FASTER.

And while I'm talking about Hot Wheels here, I will never stop regretting giving away so many of Matt's toys. I really could have used some of them. :)

You won't hear the kids chatting at the snack table or laughing at who can belch the loudest when we're outside on our way over to wash hands in the other hallway.

(Yes, I am a professional bad influence. The kids love me. The parents love me. So sue me.)

You won't smell that hot battery smell of a bunch of busy kids.

You won't get to see them in little groups, heads bent over books they've chosen from the book cart while they pause for 20 minutes in their afternoon to read, you won't see them lining up for me to tie their shoes 'because I do it better' and you won't get to see them creating amazing things at the art table.

Try to put some of those ideas in your head as you read, though.

Wednesdays are early release days in many of the school districts in our vicinity. I know they do it in the Vancouver schools as well as some of the other districts here in Oregon.

The teachers don't get to go home early, of course. They're in the building having meetings, doing planning, having conferences with parents and doing some of the million other things they can't get done with kids around.

You're familiar with that condition, right? When you have kids around, along with all the things happening, there are a lot of things NOT happening.

Even though I homeschooled for a whole lotta years, I have nothing but respect for most teachers. They work really hard inside a flawed system that causes all but the craziest (and I mean that in a good way) to give up and seek other lines of work. It's incredibly stressful, someone will always find fault with the way you do things, and you'll be under appreciated, blamed, and talked about in derogatory terms by those who don't actually work with children and wouldn't have the slightest idea what you cope with on a daily basis.

Oops. Did I digress again? One of my many talents. I can also sing, hobble short distances on my sore knee (that there's nothing wrong with), do laundry, sleep, snore, and eat. Can you do all those things?

And now to the actual story. All this digression is going to make me turn this into a two part post, I think.

Arrival time of kids on Wednesday? School gets out at 1:15. But some of the aforementioned overworked teachers send my kids to me at 1. We're never completely set up when they start arriving, because the cafeteria floors haven't been finished after lunch. Our custodian gets them done as soon as he can, but it's not an instant thing. Hundreds of kids eating in the same room is sort of, well, messy. Imagine it. I'll wait.

Wait. Did you forget to imagine the pile of food debris that gets swept up after the cafeteria tables have been wiped by the kids who were chosen as 'lunch helpers'. (They wipe those tables with a pork chop, I swear to god) and put up against the walls? Imagine a pile about three feet long by three or four inches across.  That's the pattern left by the big broom as it all gets swept together into the center of the floor.

Okay. Kids start showing up at about 1:05. They come in an intermittent trickle for 15 minutes or so. I have a sign that goes up on my table (Check in time! Please wait until all kids are signed in, thanks!!) until they're all checked in, a process that involves signing them in on two different pieces of paper and a computer. Then, I put the sign away and the steady stream of demands requests starts up.

The regular room set up is done, all the carts are out. Art table, Lego area, Dramatic Play, Games, Cups and Hot Wheels and this and that extra.

But there are always things in the back room that the kids ask for. We have a big roll of paper. I actually spent a whole month's site budget on it, it was 70 dollars. It's big enough for a kid to lie on and trace their whole body, or make a large game board or a kite or a poster or... well, anything. At least two kids ask for big paper every day. I have a supply of games that belong to me personally that are not on the game cart. The kids have to check them out from me and return them to me in good condition. Only fair since I bought them.

I don't load the art cart with construction paper. It's always available, a few sheets at a time for those who ask. If I just put it out there, a lot is wasted, although after a few discussions we've cut that back a bit.

I have special paper punches, also available to anyone who asks.

Play Doh. Other modeling materials. Sequins and little rocks and little wood cut outs and felt and ribbon and special yarns and a pool table and a foosball table and some of this and some of that and some more of other things. They're all 'special' items, provided by me at my expense for the kids.

I have no problem with it, I like them to have a good time and have supplies to help their imaginations soar, but I have to monitor the use of stuff because they DO waste it if I don't remind them a bit as I hand it to them.

I have always spent money on my job, but I view it as an investment rather than an expense. My little program has grown, and I think about 90% of that is directly due to what's offered for kids.  If I invest myself in it, so much the better.

On Tuesday afternoon, Lindsey* was supposed to be with us. She popped up on our computer sign in/out, was on my handwritten schedule, and I'd talked with Mom about it on Monday, so I knew she was to be there. All the kids were signed in, the buses were ready to leave... and no Lindsey.

I called the office and let them know she was supposed to be there and wasn't. About five minutes later, one of the teachers escorted her to our back door. They'd had to pull her off the school bus. Preferable to sending her home to an empty house. Seeing as how she's only seven... not a great idea. This is why it's so important to communicate with the office etc... every child in my program is accounted for before the buses are allowed to leave the school.

I'm going to stop there and continue this post tomorrow, gone on long enough. I'll give you play by play from Wednesday.