I don’t usually work with the kindergarten and first graders… the youngest group I ever had was second grade, and basically I followed them up as they aged. For the most part I don’t enjoy working with kids around the ages of five and six, maybe it’s because they are difficult to communicate with, who knows. Well, since we’ve hired on four new staff for the fall semester I find myself interacting with the little ones more than usual.
The other day we played Heads-Up-Seven-Up because it had rained for like three days straight outside. Henry, this little one stands up for the second time. None of the kids who were choosing, had picked him.
“Henry, honey, no one picked you have a seat please.”
And then he is off on a spiel. Only every three or four words are intelligible and he is going. The whole tirade finally concludes with:
“And Sarai, well she says that I’m a liar but I’m not, she’s a liar.”
Aaaaand then I died laughing, so did his teacher. There really wasn’t anything else to do except laugh. But Henry is a sensitive one and he promptly storms his way out of the building with his nose up in the air.
I go to catch him outside, the little punk was trying to walk all the way home!
“Henry! Stop! …stop walking, Henry.” He does. But his arms are crossed and he won’t look at me.
“Alright Henry, let’s talk about why you are angry.”
“You were laughing at me.”
“No… I know we were laughing, but it wasn’t at you. It’s just that what you said was funny.”
He thinks about this.
“I’m sorry Henry, I shouldn’t have laughed.”
More thinking.
“You’re mean to me.”
“No I’m not silly. Now come on, let’s go inside.”
“No.”
“Henry, you have to come back in.”
“No I don’t, I can walk home.”
“If you don’t come inside, I’m going to call your mother.”
“What’s her number?”
At this point, I didn’t know what to say, whether or not to be angry or to laugh, his head was cocked to the side and his hands were on his hips.
“I have it inside.”
“What’s her number?” Quite possibly the sassiest boy I’ve ever met.
“I don’t know but I can -”
And then he’s spouting off the numbers. I have failed, I don’t know the number… but well he’s got it memorized and he’s gonna let me know it. I wonder, if it ever occurred to him that it was in his best interest for me to not know the number…
“Alright. Henry. I’ve apologized, I’m trying to be nice to you. Are you being very nice to me?”
Almost a whisper now.. “…No.”
“O.K. then, well, I need you to be nice to me to. Let’s go back inside.”
“O.K., O.K., but I’m not doing anything.”
“If you say so, Henry.”
His stubbornness lasted for about three minutes, until he realized he was missing out on his computer time.