The Old Adage...

Regarding kids, my mentor, Sunshine was known to say, "They all love the same."

She was right, of course.

Kids are to love and take care of, and it doesn't matter where or who they came from. It should be everyone's wish that kids grow up supported mentally and emotionally and physically.

One doesn't have to have a direct hand in it, but people can vote for representatives who are willing to tackle things like child poverty. No one should have an issue with rules and regulations that make sure kids are fed, for example.

Lookit... just got started and here I am, wandering away from the topic which was that 'my' new kids are all lovable and funny and quirky and interesting.

Just finished my 3rd day with my new crew.

I have a 5th grade girl, two fourth graders (one of each), three third graders all boys with blonde longish hair in the same style and if you don't think it's hard to tell them apart because MASKS you haven't been where I am, two first graders and oh-dear-my-goodness-what-the-HELL-was-I-thinking-accepting-this-job-but-in my-defense-I-didn't- know SEVEN Kindergartners!
SEVEN.
I have not met all of them yet, five down and two to go... it's a gradual entry process, but I'm sure it will never be boring.

Kinders are like little butterflies. They're a kick, too. Like I said, it should be interesting.

Managed to get out to the closed day care center (owned by my employer) and look for my stuff. As I expected, it was pretty dismal. Most of my stuff just mysteriously disappeared. I don't care about all of it, but I am upset about my rugs, my book cart and all the books, which mostly were purchased at my expense.

It will take time to get the room looking the way I want it to. I knew that. But I'm still incredibly frustrated. So many of the things have my name on them. We'll see what happens when they send out an email asking for people to return stuff. I'm betting it won't happen.

FAACKKKK.

So two things made me laugh this week. Actually more than two, but I'm tired, it's been a long week for me and I'm ready to sleep.

One of my first graders, Alisa, was talking with the other first grader, Nick.
They are in the same class, so 'we already have stuff in common' she told him.

This morning they were talking about pets. He has two cats. She has one cat and five chickens. 

Nick said, "We used to have a dog. His name was Bill. But he got old and he was sick. So my mom called the doctor vet and he came over and gave old Bill a shot that made him go to sleep forever. And then my mom buried him in the back yard and she cried. It was very sad."

Alisa somberly considered what he'd said. Then she brightened. "You have your own private cemetery?!"


LOL... looking on the bright side.

Then, this afternoon when only Alisa and Jana (K) were left, they were chatting. Alisa said, "Who is coming to pick you up?"

"I don't know. Probably my mom and my grandpa. Who's coming to get you?"

Alisa said, "Oh, it  will always be my mom. My dad can't come to get me, he doesn't live with us. He has bipolar disorder."

Jana wrinkled her brow.
"What does that mean?"

Alisa, without missing a beat, said, "It means he can't come pick me up!"