Fairy Tales, Alligator Tears, and a Random Penguin

After concluding my semester as a preschool Theatre teacher, I moved on to my older kids in a foggier area of town for my Presenting a Play class in the Outer Sunset.

This class consists of ages ranging from 5-8 and kids who have elected to take the class because of a genuine theatrical interest. Or because their parents thought the class would be a good outlet for their outspoken child. Or somewhere in the middle.

Presenting a Play is designed to meet it's title. We, as a class, construct a play based on characters the kids have picked to be and spend the course rehearsing it so that we can present it to their families. Our current play is a spin off of several fairy tales coming together. We have the two stepsisters from Cinderella, the three pigs and their wolf (only, in our version, it's the three rodents and their alligator), and a penguin. Yeah, just a random, non fairy taled penguin.

While in rehearsal, one of my younger boys suffered a fairly routine meltdown. Which tends to happen when he's feeling cranky, or hungry, or just in the mood to openly weep in front of class. Today's problem? Well, it seems another student took a pillow that he had set up for the scene and moved it. The result? Full on kicking, screaming, and wailing. A real impassioned nightmare.



The other kids looked at me like, "oh, man, what are you going to do about this?!"

I looked at them like, "oh, man, what am I going to do about this?!"

Well, not really. I clenched my fists and took a moment and then gave the kids a break so that I could talk my little guy off of his emotional ledge of despair. We sat down on some blankets and I watched his lip quiver and his blue eyes leak with tears as he explained that the pillow (and it's placement) was very important to him. I then brought over the student who caused the meltdown. I sat in the middle of the two boys and we talked about words we could use to explain how we feel and how to avoid further crying and yelling matches. And we returned to rehearsal and the boys managed to finish the class without any more tears or shouts.

The real beauty of the class though came at the end when we met in a circle and I asked the group if they wanted to say anything about our play or mention anyone who they felt had done a good job. Both boys eagerly waved their hands before my face and beamed explaining how proud they were of the other for their ability to work together and properly communicate. And how much they thought it helped our play.

Not going to lie, guys, I put my personally high-fived hand to my heart and smiled. Hoping with that whole heart that within today's Theatre lesson I had helped the boys with a little life lesson.

Sure, I know it's not the end of afternoon meltdowns or future fights, but I like to believe it's a start. At least until they discover the potential wars existing in blankets...

The Right to Bite

Last day in the foggy Richmond. Last official day of preschool teaching for the semester.

I had hoped for a parade, fireworks, perhaps a party with one of those bouncy castles. Instead I got a bite.

In the middle of playing one final game, a student became very involved in acting as a tiger and came over to bite my leg. (Interestingly enough, it wasn't the same student who bit my leg at this school earlier in the year.) The bite was pretty innocent, as far as bites go, and my pant leg probably suffered the most damage. We finished the game and the students and I made our goodbyes.

I walked out of the school after being soaked in hugs and almost immediately tripped on the sidewalk.

The fall was completely unrelated to class. Or to my bitten leg. But I mention it because it was yet another reminder that even when you think you've reached an end, there will always be something else that humbles you and forces you to pick yourself back up again.

I'm also pretty clumsy. And that's probably not going to change. Even without leg bites.

Final Cheers

Another day. Another goodbye.

Today I had to wave farewell to the group I've come to love (how could one not fall in love with being cheered every time you enter the room to do theatre?) and enjoy one last class in the Mission.

I spent it with the youngest students and I tried to fill the day with some of their favorite games and activities. We constructed a magic boat to take us to the beach, we read and acted out "Where The Wild Things Are", and took turns picking new animals to become.

At the end of our time I sighed and thanked them for the fun class. Suddenly, they all turned into little adults. One tiny little girl said, "Teacher Ashley, that was a very enjoyable class. I'm sad it's over." and another small boy plainly piped in, "Aw. I will really miss you this summer." My heart expanded to the point of bursting and then they returned to their silly wiggly ways. I brought them back to their teachers as they continued to be dinosaurs. As I walked out, I promised myself that if I found myself feeling sad I simply need to remember my Mission T-Rex cheerleaders as their strength to restore my spirits will never be extinct. Take that dinosaurs.

Squeaks and Sunshine

Yesterday, I made goodbyes to my two Tuesday preschools. The adorable laughing small faces in SOMA and the heartwarming tiny hands in the Tenderloin. The morning was nothing spectacular or too out of the ordinary. It consisted of familiar games, books, and giggles but in the air was a sense of conclusion. Which, always makes me feel a little sad.

For many of my kids, I've come to learn their home lives and have been entertained with tales from treasured family weekends and various city adventures. But for many of the children in the Tenderloin, their time away from their school can be quite unpredictable. Several technically belong to the state of California and are ushered from foster home to foster home. They may also disappear from school without any trace of a goodbye or return after an absence shadowed in darker secrets that I'll sadly never know.

It's my first year at this location and when I was first prepped for it I was gently advised to try and "bring sunshine to their darker backgrounds." Each day with them is always unique and changes based upon class attendance. Yesterday's group had a combination of faces from my very first class and a handful of newer kids who I met over the last few weeks. After reading to a small group that craved cuddles and stories, many of the kids "performed" some pieces they had been working on. All of which were from the "Chipmunks II: The Squeakquel". And consisted of them dancing and singing with a CD of popular songs sung by crazy high voices. So obviously, it was awesome.

Though when I made my final goodbyes, a part of me struggled to hold back tears. I don't know if I 'll ever see any of these children again. I'm not sure what the summer holds for them or how much longer they'll be in San Francisco. I wanted to hold their small sticky hands and look into their big eyes and tell them to hang in there. That someone is thinking about them and routing for them. That I will continue to do so. And to thank them for the laughs. The hugs. For being stronger than I am. They may have darker home issues but those kids carry their own sunshine and I'm honored to have felt the warmth of it.

Luckily, the other part of me was able to applaud their brilliant Squeakquel acts and smile one last smile before I left. Leave it to cartoon chipmunks to help me pull it together.

The Letter P

Preschool Teacher: Who can tell me what sound the letter P makes?

Preschool Student: It's the sound you make when you really have to pee!

And so concluded my year at FranDelja.

After the hour and a half commutes (each way) and the walks in some less than friendly streets, today marked my final day of the semester in the Bayview. It's been a trying year over at this location as many of the personalities of the children are reflections of their harsher home lives. But a time of a lot of laughter and enjoyment as well. While their favorite activity will always be pretending to be different animals with the sole goal of covering me in "mud" (because they love when I pretend to be upset about it), we've also shared some wonderful educational moments as well. Today before my theatre class I had the privilege of overhearing the conversation above. After my own personal laugh, I chimed in, "and another word that starts with 'P' is play!"

Strawberry Ambitions

After the excitement of Saint Patrick's Day, my preschoolers and I started off our days in a similar pattern. Sleepy. Them because of vivid dreams of gold, leprechauns, and green gleams; me because of late nights and Irish inspired beverages. Anyway, as always, we were a charming match.

Along with learning today that leprechauns are purple in real life and disappear if you blink, the children shared their hopes for the future. The best came from one of my favorite kids. A tiny tomboy of a little girl who delights me with her unexpected comments. Today, she gave me this treasure: "when I grow up I want to be a strawberry gummy bear." She later told me that there was a snake in the room that wanted to bite me, take me back to his house, and read him a story. (And I was like, "ugh, really snake? Are you going to buy me dinner first or what?" Nah, just kidding. I don't date snakes.)

Well, to me, this gal is as sweet as candy and small so she's practically achieved the big goal. But it's a lovely aspiration to strive to, isn't it? And just like a leprechaun, the idea may be gone in a blink... So on the day after the day we praised Patrick for ridding Ireland of snakes (though they clearly probably left in search of a nice gal who could read to them...) I've learned once again to hold on tight to your hopes for yourself. Let them be delicious and plentiful and don't stop until they've at least given you a sugar high.

From Seeds To Trees

It appears like the addition of new classes to my schedule has unfortunately paused my writing about all of my many teaching adventures each day. It's something I hope to correct. In any case, it's a new day with a new lesson! Daylight Savings may have taken away an hour of time but it certainly didn't take the spring out of the steps of my students.

This afternoon, while doing a cool down, I had the kids make their bodies into seeds and then stretch into trees. One replied, once she had grown, "I'm a cuddle tree and I'm here to cuddle you!" All of the kids yelled, "me too!" and proceeded to wrap their tiny arms around my legs. It was nothing short of pure magic. Upon smiling and soaking up their love, I started to wonder if life's cruelest joke is that we are born to grow up. How complicated the world can seem once we start to "branch out" and abandon the simplicities of our small seeds. We often intertwine ourselves in serious matters knowing we're rooted and unable to move away with the humor and youthful grace of our past. It's so easy to lose the easiness.

Luckily though, I suppose, it's possible to grow up in good company. Fine fellow trees to make your acquaintance and help you to reach for that next thing. And fortunately for me, I'm in a forest with little cuddle trees. Who help remind me that while I had to get older I still have the ability to come down for additional lessons on how to grow.

Teach Me, Sam I Am

Feeling a tad sleepy after an already busy week, I brought in an old classic to read to my kids to dramatize and discuss. "Green Eggs and Ham". A book consisting of under fifty words.

Sure enough the kids ate it up (get it?) and greeted the book like an old friend they hadn't seen in a while. Hugs and kisses included.

My first class loved my choice to make the character who hates the idea of green eggs and ham a tearful, at times, fella. During my reading, they continued to yell, "make him cry again!" over and over. Thinking, I had really nailed my voices and intentions and emotions, I came into the next group confident and excited to wail the words. Of course, this group thought my reading was off. They stopped me to say, "be angrier!" and constantly questioned, "why aren't you yelling more?" before letting me continue. By the end of that session I had exhausted myself in a fury of trying to prove to my kids that I should be cast as that role in my imaginary production of "Green Eggs and Ham". Luckily for me though, no one ever questioned or complained about the voice I assigned to Sam. Guess even my old tired book choices and old friendly characters deserve time and consideration. Lesson learned.

Don't Let The Rain Get You Down

After yesterday's rainy "Blue Monday", another day of gray weather battled me on my way to school. Since I sadly lost my umbrella, each trip outside has proved to be an uncomfortable undertaking. And I'm not the only one suffering. Matching my own gray mood, everyone at my bus stop came prepared with grumbles and stomps today. When our haven of shelter and warmth was delayed and then forced to pass by without hesitation, as it was completely full to capacity, I thought a riot would ensue. When it happened a second time we all seemed a tad closer to ultimate despair and ready to drown in the downpour.

Third time's a charm though, so my already soaked shoes and I boarded that bus and traveled to school. When I saw my kids (decked out in elaborate rain jackets, umbrellas, and boots that made me wonder if I could still pull off alligator or princess rain gear) they each graced me with a grin. I immediately wondered: how do these kids remain so cheerful in this weather? What is the secret?

So I asked. And a little boy said, "This rain ain't gonna get me down! I like to jump in puddles!" Okay. We're on to something here. While I, and the rest of the adult bus patrons, frown and do our best to avoid the rain, these kids are doing whatever they can to cover themselves in it. They're jumping right in and they're getting over it before it drags them down. To them, the rain is still a magical and fun adventure. And for whatever reason, just knowing that wonderment like that still exists, I found it much easier to trudge along to my next class. Puddles and all.

Hearts Are Made For Breaking

Another morning of cold rain greeted the city of San Francisco as I made my commute back to the Mission. Because of the weather, I found all of the preschool students sitting down to watch a movie since they couldn't play outside. The same child who wept about not being able to go to drama class last week had to be encouraged to join me today and leave the film behind. Can't say I blamed him, the movie was about dinosaurs!

Once we settled into class one little boy shouted out, "Teacher Ashley! I'm growing!" To which I asked, "You are! Do you think I'm growing too?" He firmly replied, "No." I joking then asked if he thought I would grow taller, if my feet would get bigger, and if he believed my heart could become larger. He then, in the most matter of fact tone, said, "You're going to break your heart. And then you're going to cry." "Um, yeah, been there done that, kid, but do we have to bring it up..." is what I should have asked but before I could muster out a word another little boy walked over to be and said gently, "Here is a new one." And he placed his small hand near my chest. As if the gesture couldn't get sweeter, he then said, "And here's some ice cream!" The rest of the class followed him and gave me "hearts" and "ice cream cones". It's an incredible feeling to know that if I allow my heart to be broken, I now have a surplus of extra ones to get me through and a never ending supply of ice cream to ease the pain.

Guys Are Good For Dancing

Today was one of those mornings when it seemed like the universe was rooting for me to stay in bed. Partially because I had come home late the night before leaving me little time to sleep and partially because of the storm outside my window. I almost convinced myself that nature actually had an opinion about my work schedule based upon the amount of rain I had to fight against to arrive on time.

But, as usual, the second I stepped foot into the classroom I was met with all I needed. A small boy with big blue eyes so pretty I wanted to swim in them offered me a trip to the moon to dine on blue cheese (as long as I promised to wear a blue hat) and another held my hand and complimented my polka dot rain boots. I couldn't ask for more.

My second school provided not only a shelter from the weather but more giggles. I spent a good amount of my time working with one little girl this morning who provided me with a lot of wisdom. I made her a pretend crown of seashells and she honored it by yelling at anyone who came near her head in fear that it would break. She also pointed at one of the little boys in class and said, "There's a guy. They are made to dance with me." I laughed at first but then I found it almost poetic. What a romantic vision this young child must have regarding the relationship between men and women. Maybe I need to learn how to avoid complication and keep it simple. Though, next time I intend to ask her how to get them to agree to a dance in the first place.

Dinosaur Robot Music Ears

Thursday mornings mark the final class for my outreach preschool weekly schedule. (Don't worry, I still teach other classes outside of this program.) And there's no better place to celebrate than in the Outer Richmond district.

The kids at this location are probably the most affectionate preschoolers out of the bunch. This is the school that provided me my first bite from a student and I'm pretty sure I've very unwillingly managed to find myself at second base on more than one occasion with some of these eager young tykes.

Often I split my time between three groups ranging from 2 - 5 years of age. Since this particular school had shown an interest in penguins (perhaps thanks to the foggy nature of the Richmond?!) I picked a story to work on today involving a misunderstood penguin. The black sleep of penguins, if you will. Sadly, the kids were not impressed with this selection and began feeling a little restless. When this happens, I will usually ask them to please turn up their listening ears and make sure their looking eyes are on. I have sound effects for both.

Today, one of the little girls looked at me and said, "I'm sorry. I left my ears at my mom's house today." To which I replied, "It's okay, do you want to borrow mine?" She nodded her small head and I placed "my listening ears" into her palm. She "put them on" and I asked if she could hear me better and if she was ready to start listening to our story. She answered, "No, I can't hear you. There's dinosaur robot music playing in there."

Oh, how forgetful of me! I didn't turn off my dinosaur robot music! Unfortunately for me, the tune didn't help her to enjoy the story. When we then began to dramatize the tale, she told me that she would not be participating because she "didn't like the book enough." Ah, well. Perhaps next time she can borrow my teeth... so she can lie through them.

Batman Brings Honey Hammabuggas

Wednesday mornings follow a similar pattern. I hit the snooze button more times than I'd like to admit and roll out of bed to begin my feud with the transportation system of this city. For whatever reason, getting to my preschool in the Mission from my apartment is never an easy task. Taking the 24 to the 48 manages to push almost every patient button I have, regardless of how lovingly divisible those two bus numbers are.

This morning was no exception. My first bus made me wait fifteen minutes longer than the time my computer's prediction promised before I left the comforts of home and the second bus was delayed so greatly that I decided to speed walk the two plus miles to school instead of waiting in frustration.

But arriving at my Wednesday morning site is always worth it. Not to play favorites, but yeah, okay, let's play favorites, the kids at this preschool have become just that: my play favorites. Every time I step foot in their colorful classroom I'm met with cheers. I'm not exaggerating, gang, these kids get really excited for drama class. This morning a little boy wept because his group wasn't scheduled this week. Once again, the wish of having that power over men by own age and by casting directors overwhelmed me.

Today's class featured a game I created called "Magic School Bus" where we all pretend to get into a vehicle, put our seat belts on, and drive to destination. This week the kids decided on the beach. (Specifically to swim and see a pirate ship!) On their own, they each picked a character they would like to be at the beach as well. We had a mermaid, the Cookie Monster, Spiderman, an ant, and Batman aboard, just to name a few, and they each promised to provide something that we may need at the beach, like sunscreen or a towel. But my absolute favorite came from the little boy who asked me to call him Batman. With his tiny little voice he yelled, "I'm bringing Honey! And Hammabuggas!" It took me a moment to realize he meant hamburgers but I used the time to laugh and do my own private cheer. Regardless of how terrible my commute may be at times, I have a superhero who likes me enough to offer hamburgers. Bring on the cheese!

First Impressions

It was off to SoMa for my first preschool today to meet two new classes of students. We officially began our spring semester this morning which meant starting a friendship with the youngest students at this particular site.

It began the way all new relationships should. Over pizza. Meaning, I was amazed to find how all of our first conversations somehow related back to that delicious food and how 2.5 - 3.5 year olds can't say enough about it. In both classes I was only able to complete half of my intended lesson plan because I hadn't properly allotted ample time to discuss cheese pizza. Other than that though, the new young ones proved to be more hilarious and adorable than I could have hoped. To tell you the truth, they were so cute I just wanted to eat them!

When I walked into my second school today, I was met by familiar faces. My class in the Tenderloin is made up of children who speak very little English and some of my ideals for the group involve teaching them new words through dramatic art. On my first day at their school, back in September, I found myself unable to verbally communicate much with the students or their teachers. After several attempts at conversation, I finally gave up and began to mime "making a cake".

It was a weird choice, sure, but at least it's confirmed that when I don't know what else to do, I'll always rely on baked goods. And the kids ate it up. (See what I did there?) They loved adding in their own ingredients and working together on a creative treat. And luckily for me, we were able to create a bridge of communication over a cake. Thanks to our beautifully decorated pretend dessert, the kids started to open up; they soon trusted me to lead them in a series of imaginative games and we've been working well since then. So today, we began our class with an old greeting... "Hi, hi! Cake lady! Let's make a cake!"

"I Hate You..."

"I hate you."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I haven't seen you in a week; can we talk about why you're mad?"

"You didn't come to my birthday party."

Ah, just another start to my teaching week beginning in the Bayview area of San Francisco. I was greeted by some hostility today from one of boys because I had inadvertently missed his 5th birthday party. Honestly, I was flattered that he'd want me at such an event.


Thanks to a few rounds of "The Children Are Sleeping" it appeared our friendship had been restored. And after giving him a hug and wishing him a happy year, I seemed to earn his love back. For the remaining hour at least. Proving to me once again that sometimes all we need is a game and a hug to make it through the day. When I left, one of his friends (who has learned English as a second language) said, "No, please don't go, baby! I love you!" And I left with a laugh. Love and hate are truly separated by a fine line, huh?