#ifuckedup

More then any other item up for discussion, I am asked for parenting advice and teaching tips on the regular. I decided to put just a little bit here on my foray into teaching.


When I started my career in early child education, it was because my husband and I were Divorcing and In order to take care of my children alone, I had to retire from being a SAHM with 13 years beneath my belt.

I didn't know what I was doing. I only knew that I was offered a Job by my Bestie, and that I had to take it.

I started my work experience with Kinder Care learning centers, and while going through school I was placed as an aide in the Toddler room.

Ugh. Toddlers.

While they are cute and cuddly...mentally stimulating they are NOT.
Most days I could stare at them and watch each child's snot compete with their drool in epic battles of MUCUS RACES.

Snot went everywhere! Toddlers are fat buckets of snot. If you have a child who is in care someplace and when you enter the room you notice some boogers sliding down your child face, please DO NOT assume that it has been there all day ignored. I guarantee teachers wipe more of your child's snot then you do.

They also go home with it in their hair, and dried to their faces.

UGH. I was dying in the toddler room. My mental abilities were stunted. Some nights, I swear I would go home and speak toddler to my kids. I also gained my foot stomping fits from that stint I did in the toddler room at KinderCare.

But when all of the diapers were changed, and the snot was eradicated I would stare into the window of the 2 year old room and I would wish for brighter days.

Days filled with human children who could speak back to me....and wipe their own noses.

Then one day...it happened. I substituted in the Two's room for a teacher who was out sick and I absolutely ADORED it. At the end of the night I asked Dawn if there was any chance that I could stay in that room.
 After her initial shock and "YOU actually WANT to be in here?" I was allowed.

And it was then that I learned that this was not JUST a job. THIS was my niche.

EVERYTHING THAT I KNOW ABOUT ECE I LEARNED IN THE 2's ROOM AT KINDERCARE.

Our Two's room at the time was taught by the MOST unpleasant, unattractive woman that I have ever at the inopportunity to work with.
 She also absolutely REFUSED to work with me. And no matter how much I tried to ask what she would like for me to do, she answered with a back turn or a sharply worded response.

A whisper speaks louder then a scream.

I also had left the toddler room with a nasty case of laryngitis. (I blame the snot, but whateves.) and the only thing that I could do was whisper. Which, if you can imagine controlling a group of 24 Two year olds with a whisper....yeah.

So I started small. With each individual child I set about wrangling that classroom from her witchy hands. I watched her work, noted the schedules and paperwork and set about making changes. Most importantly, I learned from observation. Something that has stayed with me ever since.

That case of laryngitis and that cunt of a teacher gave me a wonderful advantage. I had the time to spend with each child and earn their trust and more importantly...their love.

Even though I couldn't talk, I had hands that could clap and feet that could stomp. I also had the most powerful tool that a teacher needs. A smile.

If you smile at a child. They will smile back.
If you stick your tongue out at a child, they will giggle.

I had no voice for a month, but the children learned that if Ms.Beanie stomped her feet, that meant we were lining up to go outside. If I clapped my hands, that meant to look at me and if I sat on the floor we were building sheet forts or having circle time. (Which I conducted using a highly intelligent child that would speak for me when I whispered to him.)

If I didn't want a child doing something I would clap my hands and whisper "NO" while shaking my head.
Beanies babies listened to my whispered words, but I choose to believe that they KNEW that I loved them and would protect them from the evil witch. That point was proven with an autistic child and his backpack.

Being an advocate for children.

We had a little boy in class who was autistic. How did we know? We work in children, we can tell. However as teachers we learn that it is not our place to diagnose anything. It is our place to teach and love each and every child that enters our classroom. (For me, the weirder the better.)

He had a backpack that he loved, he had an attachment to his backpack. It was how he self soothed. Whenever he was stressed out, he would rub the strap of his backpack. If he felt insecure he tightened the straps of it around his shoulders.
I quite loved that about him, and think that everyone should find comfort in inanimate things. It would save a lot of rushed marriages and one night stands.

Every day when Robby would come in, he would clutch his backpack and look at the cunt of a teacher in fear. So the next day, I started paying more attention to his drop off.

And it went: Mom shows up, Robby is dropped off and the evil witch clutches Robby's backpack to remove it from his body.

I watched as she peels his backpack from his body and tells him he cannot have it in class. Robby drops to the floor in desolation. His comfort just taken from him. It still breaks my heart and brings tears to my eyes thinking of it, even 7+ years after the day.

I walked up to her clapping my hands very loudly. Every child turned to look. "NOPE." I whispered as loud as I could.
"WHAT?" She sneered at me. Her crooked teeth and huge nose warring for space in her face. I swear even the children cringed at that look.

I grabbed Robby's backpack from her hands just as forcefully as she had removed it from his and handed it back to him. He hid behind me, clutching his backpack. I could feel his tears soak into the back of my pants. "DO not ever take his backpack away from him again." I whispered. I was absolutely seeing RED.

She was outraged, and unattractively so. "WHAT! He cannot have it!"

I crossed my arms "YOU cannot have it."

"FINE! YOU run the class then." She huffed and sank to the floor with her phone. Laughing at me.

(I cannot stress to you enough how unattractive this teacher was. Practically horrifying.)

That was the day that the 2's room at KinderCare Oakdale became "Ms.Beanies" room.

The next morning, every time she reached for a child's blanket I would clap loudly at her and shake my head.

It is policy at KinderCare that children place their blankets in their cubbies upon arriving. It is a cleanliness thing. However sometimes they are not quite ready. I let them know that when they were, to make sure to hand it to me so that I could place it in their cubby to keep safe.

Within a week the children were gladly giving up their blankeys with a lispy "Mith Beanie I ready." so that they could go and play. And soon enough Robby felt safe enough to hang his safety backpack neatly on a coat hook and eventually my voice came back and shocked the children with its ability to carry.

This taught me a huge lesson. Adults are asswhacks and children will love you even if you can only whisper.

I was in the same room with that teacher for nearly 6 months before she eventually got let go. And in that time I learned that it is not important if you like your co-teacher or get used to her ugly face and cuntish ways. It is however important for an adult to always speak up for a child.


YOU Change, they don't have too.

I know that I am successful in this field. Mostly because My bosses seem pretty happy with my performance and parents usually like me. I can honestly say that my success is owed to these three things:

 

1. I fuck up

 

I will never forget telling a well worded 2 year old that her daddy is a HUNK and having her mother let me know about it the next day.

 #ifuckedup

 

I was called into the office for addressing my entire class as "Beasts" (which they were.)

#Ifuckedup

 

I once had to explain to a black single mother that her son had called another boy a honky....and that he had learned that word....FROM ME.

#whitegirlfuckedup

 

I was called into the office for addressing my class as honkies.

#gofigure

 

2. When I fuck up I take ownership of it

 

"Mistakes are wonderful opportunities to learn" is a quote that I have taught by. Sometimes I fuck up. It used to be a lot more regular, but I have learned from my mistakes and become a better teacher because I did not blame them on another human being like a pussy....

I took it on the chin like a BOSS.

 

 

3. I learn from my fuck-ups and change the way I teach.

In this field, you have to be able to change the way you see things. You have to be able to observe and objectify your OWN teaching styles. Sometimes what you are doing is JUST NOT WORKING. SO...what is a teacher to do? I will tell you ...CHANGE it.

After a few months of being in the Two's room I looked around a realized that my classroom was the equivalent of a baby war zone. Particularly since I was, at the time, stanching the blood of a little boy who had just gotten beamed in the head by a smuggled in Hot wheel. You know....the metal kind.

Let me set it up for you shall I?

I had one little boy who would scream "FUCK YOU!" at the top of his lungs whenever he was angry. By the end of the week every single child said "Fuck YOU" to their parents, and I had a shit storm of complaints coming my way.

I had one little boy who enjoyed the taste of human flesh. He was particularly fond of other children's cheeks and thighs.

I had a little girl who loved to kick other children and would say her new favorite words while she said "Fuck you fuck you fuck you"

I had a boy who threw cars and any other object as long as they were heavy. (This time it was a metal hot wheel)

I had a severely autistic boy who climbed my cots and got me in trouble EVERY.SINGLE.day.
And every single other child ran around copying them and kicking, hitting, or fuck you-ing at random.

I had all of 6 ECE credits at the time and a thought in my head "WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO?"

Choice #1   

    I can blame everyone and anyone else for my situation. I could blame the parents for giving birth to their cussing, throwing, kicking children. I could blame my boss for not training me. I could blame my co-teacher for....I dunno...something. And finally, I could blame the children because there were just TOO many of them...and run screaming from my job.

 

OR  (and here is when the pussies get separated from the bosses.)

 

Choice #2       

I can take ownership of MY classroom. I can acknowledge that this chaos is caused by MY inability to teach proper behavior and nurture these children's level of creative needs.

I can realize that I have fucked up BUT I can do the most important thing of all. I have the power to change it. And that is precisely what I did.

 

I took ALL of my children outside and taught them some NEW words. "NO THANK YOU."

I told them they could scream it, shout it and point at the person who made them mad. We had entire training days outside where all we did was scream, stomp and shout "NO THANK YOU!"
It worked. Soon enough the "Fuck You" complaints ended and parents loved the words that were coming out of their child's mouths.

I removed everything hard in my class and We threw things. We made paintball art and I had days where there was a sopping tub of balled up streamers just waiting for someone to throw outside.
I had a bin of "angry balls" that were available to throw at any wall the kids wanted.

I separated the beds and let my autistic child climb to the top and gain the social freedom that his brain needed. It was safer. I also helped his mom get in touch with Silvan Learning center, who ultimately got her a diagnoses and eventually he left to join an autistic school.

I brought in boxes and instructed my kicking child to stomp it until it was flat and scream no thank you rather then the other words.

And the biting boy had an oral fixation that needed a pacifier to chew on, but eventually he left anyways. (long story that one)

Soon, the kickers were tired of kicking, the screamers had all but become hoarse and the thrower was ready to sing songs and learn.

As the leader of a classroom, it is NOT the children's fault if your classroom is not running efficiently. It is yours. And it was mine.

Therefor the biggest advice that I give out, is this: Be willing to change. Be willing to accept that you are always learning. Each year brings a new batch of young minds for you to stimulate and advocate for. And the BEST way to BE a child's advocate is not stating that you are one. It is proving it.