Victory Numero Uno: In these last few weeks that my kids have homework I've taken to bribing them. Judge me all you want but I haven't found a single grey hair this spring. So deal. On Mondays I tell them if
I spent ALL WEEK forcing them to score 9/10. Every thirty seconds or so you'd hear me yell "Biter how's that math coming along? Dennis the Menace that doesn't look like homework to me- put it away! Thug One and Thug Two SEPARATE!" Maybe I stressed myself sick or maybe it's just because my hand sanitizer ran out but by Thursday I had the flu and called in a sub. I left strict instructions that the kids were to be on their best best best behavior so that I could get them a pizza party for Friday. Then I took my cough medicine and drifted off to quiet, calm, kid-dramaless sleep.
The next day I got to work and heard from my sub that my group of girls had been super loud during homework time. All my hard work for nothing! Also I had already bought the pizza damn it. I was all set to rant about how those kids spoil everything when the sub kept talking. Apparently my girls had been loud because they wanted to score a 8 or lower because they were worried that I was spending all my money on pizza for them. They didn't want me to have to waste my money.
This marks the first time in my two years with them that those girls have thought of anyone or anything before themselves. I LOVE that they're at the age where they're capable of that.
Victory Numero Dos: This is both a sad and happy one. I recently got a new third grader in my class. I'm going to call him Wild Thing here. Wild Thing's teacher personally warned me about his behavior. The kid is a tough cookie. He rarely tells the truth, rarely does what's asked of him, and rarely makes a connection with anyone. He came with a few of my boys as his close friends but even they were wary of him. I spend a full week battling with this little dude with no idea what was going on with him.
Let me preface this by saying that I had possibly one of the best childhoods possible. Sure it wasn't perfect but whose is? I had two parents who cared about me, grandparents/aunts/uncles/cousins who would have done anything for me, a place to call my own, a bed to myself, and I always knew that I would be cared for. There was never a doubt in my mind that I was loved. Add to that the fact that I grew up in a safe neighborhood 2 blocks from my elementary school where the greatest crime I had ever heard of was stealing roses from the house down the street and you'll see how great I had it.
Wild Thing clearly is not me. His childhood is not what mine was. Honestly it's a miracle he functions as well as he does. After learning a little bit about what this kid is like I've decided I really like him. He's smart and witty and he can definitely hold his own in a debate (trust me- I've lost a few to him).
Last week I did an activity with these awesome Cheez-Its that are shaped like scrabble tiles. We made scrabble boards and tried to hook all of our Cheez-Its together for points. It was an activity I was proud of and for the first time ever Wild Thing was excited about something. He was hooking words together faster than any other kid. He was even helping other kids after he had finished all of his crackers! I think the best part of it all was that the other kids recognized that Wild Thing was good at the activity and some of them were asking him for help when they may not have really needed it. Seems to me like they were trying to help him feel good about himself.
Victory Numero Tres: On Friday we had our Annual Family Potluck. We put up notices and sign up sheets over a week in advance and told the kids a gazillion times what a potluck is.
Kid: What's a potluck?
Staff: It's when everyone brings food to share and we all have a picnic.
Kid: Huh? What am I supposed to do?
Staff: Help your mom and dad remember to bring food.
Kid: Why?
Staff: Because we're having a potluck!
Kid: What's a potluck?
Staff: Go ask someone else.
So I knew that we were prepared for this thing but that didn't stop me from the usual night terrors. Maybe no one would show up? Maybe every single parent would bring pizza? (totally could have happened) Maybe our kids would be demons that day? (this one was most likely)
But on Friday everything went perfect. Most of the parents showed up, everyone brought food, and not all of it was pizza. My rice crispy treats disappeared quickly (I even had two of my boys politely ask me to snag two because they didn't want to cut in front of everyone but they were afraid they would run out before they got there). Best of all was the kids themselves. Even the ones whose parents weren't there were on their best behavior. For once no one pushed in line or fought over the last Capri- Sun. They even tried the healthy food! It was a miracle sent from childcare heaven.
So I'm challenging myself to forget more of the tough stuff and start remembering that my kids rock. They care about other people, they try to make others feel good about themselves, and they don't push in the potluck line. Does it get better than that?
