My first experience with educating kindergartners was during my Master's program internship. As it turned out, the teacher and I weren't a great fit. But those kids were so eager and cute. Once while doing recess duty outside, an autistic boy in the class who was considered "nonverbal" pointed to the ground (it was a sunny day) and clearly spoke the word "shadow." I had just earlier taught a science lesson about the sun and shadows. This mainstreamed student, who made a lot of noise but whom we couldn't tell was grasping anything or not, had obviously been paying attention and retaining--and it had made enough of an impression on him to put forth the effort required to form the word! I was utterly amazed, astounded, and excited. My mentor teacher wasn't terribly impressed. But it's something I'll never forget. It was the moment I questioned (for just a minutes) whether I might actually be cut out for kindergarten. In the end, personality conflict demanded a switch--and I ended up completing my year of student teaching in a second grade classroom. I had learned not long after starting the internship that I was indeed pregnant with our firstborn. The second grade class was a tough group, but my overseeing teacher was very understanding; it proved to be a good choice.
After graduating with my Master's in Teaching, having a baby a week later, and failing to get an actual "teaching job," my next real kindergarten immersion was going to work in a childcare when Kristiana was ten months old. These 5-year-olds were definitely high-spirited--and they always wanted a push on the swing here or a boost onto a bar there. But I had quite a bit of energy back then.
I didn't feel that I had a great deal of patience for "little people" that were not my own, so I began to pursue elementary classroom teaching again, spending a year subbing in Beaverton, six months subbing in Hermiston, and a few months subbing in Albany.
When Kalina was of preschool age, we relocated to Salem. I commuted for eight months to Corvallis to teach one-on-one in a reading clinic, where I met Ellen, a spunky kindergartner whose parents very much wanted her to learn to read. I'd never taught anyone to read "from scratch" before. This was my first "success story," as it turned out. Some days I remember being rather mentally exhausted after her forty-five minute session; I mean, keeping a five-year-old focused for that length of time--and learning at the same time can be nothing short of miraculous. I enjoyed her funny quips and struck a good balance between answering and redirecting her comments and questions--but I was always glad to see my much older clients coming.
After the reading clinic, I took a job at Cornerstone Christian School. It wasn't the right timing for my young family for me to be working full-time, as it turned out. But...we loved the school--and the following year we enrolled both girls. Kalina was in preschool; Kristiana was in third grade. There was more to my "kindergarten education" ahead.
I had marveled at Kristiana's kindergarten teacher, Miss Tunnell (in Albany), for dealing with Kristiana's "daydreaming" and her flair for the dramatic. I marveled once again at Kalina's teacher, Mrs. O'Connor, as she entered kindergarten--she could be stubborn and challenging, but this woman had the ability to teach her to read, among other things. I thought to myself, 'I could never teach kindergarten.'
I subbed for Mrs. O'Connor several times over the next few years, finding the kids adorable of course but always secretly thinking, 'I'm more cut out for the older kids.'
Once Josiah was in kindergarten at CCS, I was the librarian there--and that year I ran a program with my co-librarian, Mrs. Franklin, that we called "Kindergarten Storytime." We would read a story to the kids, then lead them in a corresponding arts and crafts project. I found this to be a delightful time and carried on the program by myself the following year--boy, was it hard to complete some of the projects in the allotted time! I had to learn what kindergartners en mass were capable of and try to plan accordingly. I was inclined to think in terms of what an older child could accomplish in fifteen or twenty minutes. I liked that it was a short, bright, fun spot in the day for them--but was thankful that I didn't have to plan an entire afternoon's worth of lessons and activities. Once again, the kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Bittner, had my utmost respect--and as much as I loved storytime, I didn't envy her job.
It wasn't until I had a couple temporary school district jobs, a fifth- and sixth-grade job share, a second- and third-grade classroom position, three years of language arts pull-out classes, and several years of being a librarian under my belt, that I even considered the idea of teaching kindergarten. It was part-time, which wasn't what I'd set out to obtain--but the schedule appealed for several reasons. Still, it was kindergarten! It had become a necessity for Josiah's school, which was now known as Crosshill, to add a second kindergarten class. I remembered Mrs. O'Connor's words to me years back, when I'd first gotten to know her: "You can do all things through Christ." For some reason, I had peace about this idea and found myself saying to the principal one day on the phone, "I'd be interested in the kindergarten position." This came as a surprise to...everyone--especially me!
I was hired and began setting up a classroom, for the first time in eight years. It had been determined that I would have two of my friend Vonnie's grandkids in my class; their family were missionaries to Ukraine, and they'd be spending a year in the States. Their Seth reminded me in some ways of my Josiah when he was younger--and we managed to make a fast bond. Havalah took a little longer to "fall in love" with me, but once she did she was one of my biggest fans.
As the year went on, I could not believe how fast it was racing by--and how some days seemed way too short. And then as it ran down to weeks left, I found myself thinking, 'I haven't had enough time with these kids.' You see, I had fallen in love. They had made me laugh. They had learned and grown. They had developed socially. They had let their little--no, their big--personalities shine. And I was going to miss them all.
I assumed I'd be teaching kindergarten again the following year, having learned the new language curriculum and all. But enrollment didn't have two kinder classes in store. Instead, I ended up teaching fifth grade. I adored my fifth-graders as well. But looking back, there was something pretty incredible about my year in kindergarten. So many milestones reached, so many things learned--not just for the students but for me.
Will I teach kindergarten again? I don't know. But now I know that I am not scared of it--that I would actually welcome it. I figured out that I could be over-animated--and guess what? Kindergartners love it. I would sometimes randomly change lyrics to songs to keep them on their toes. I would give them "true or false" statements that were sometimes ridiculous. And I had one student who absolutely loved it when I would show "the wrong way" of forming a letter on the board, pretending I was doing it correctly--so that the students would have to tell me the right way to do it.
In the movie Mrs. Doubtfire, Robin Williams' character, Daniel Hillard, expresses a theory about educating children--that "you don't have to play down to them. You just play to them." And that's kind of what teaching kindergarten is like. Yes, there are the more serious moments--but there's energy--as a kindergarten teacher, you have to keep it fun and engaging if you want true learning to take place. And the best teaching moments are when they're having so much fun that they don't even know they're learning.
I miss the light in their eyes, their innocent and often complex questions, the way they learn to use scissors, the messy "just ate snack" faces. All of it. So here's my confession, in a nutshell. Deep inside...I just might be a kindergarten teacher.
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