Just when I thought I had worked my last day of the
school year, I got a message from one of the kindergarten
teachers at the West Ridge Elementary School, asking if I could fill in for her on the penultimate
morning of the spring term. She was taking a half day to attend her younger
son’s “moving up” ceremony, from one level of pre-school to the next. It was a
welcome assignment for me. I was familiar with all of the children, having
taught them on several occasions earlier in the year. Each one is memorable in
individual ways.
Meghan is eager to help, seeing herself more as a
teacher’s aide than a student. She would prefer to follow me around the
classroom and offer unsolicited help on all matters related to kindergarten. She
informed me that she would be going to the Park Ridge town pool directly from
school that day, and volunteered to demonstrate her cannonball technique by leaping off
her chair. I declined the offer.
Classmate Jayden, who reminds me of Charlie Brown’s
curly-haired younger sister, Sally, overheard this conversation. She would be
joining Meghan at the pool, she said, and was particularly excited to try out
her new watermelon bathing suit.
Lauren likes to remind me that I know her older brother,
Ryan. Conor is the class comedian; Jake and Breyden are his best audience.
Tanvee is very serious; Kathryn, McKenna, Joseph, Lia, Ved, and Ella less so
but studiously quiet and unfailingly diligent. Jason has two older brothers and
remains above whatever fray happens to break out. Anjali is ever happy and
always with her hair and dress immaculate.
And then there is little Madeline, a freckled-face,
red-headed innocent. On this day she greeted me with a wide smile, revealing new
gaps in her mouth that must have taxed the tooth fairy’s June budget.
Maddie seems
to enjoy all things about kindergarten. There are the morning meetings, which comprise
a recitation of the days of the week and of the ever-growing list of acquired
sight words, the recognition of the calendar month’s pattern, and a choral performance of
seasonal songs. There is also the weather report, with a different
kindergartner serving as daily meteorologist. The forecast involves a quick
peek out the window to see if it is sunny, cloudy, rainy, or snowy. Movement of
tree limbs and/or leaves indicates a windy day.
I cherish the autographed drawing Maddie gave me during a
previous assignment in her class. She has yet to master all of her lower-case
letters, notably “b” and “d.” The signature on her abstract artwork read “Mabeline.”
In the course of the morning, as I was reading aloud a
story to the class, Maddie interrupted me. “I called Joseph “daddy” once by
accident,” she cheerfully said. That type of non sequitur, I’ve discovered, is not uncommon in
kindergarten. Drew chimed in: “Once I called [kindergarten teacher] Mrs. Tobin ‘mommy’ by accident.”
The invocation of “daddy” reminded Maddie of another
personal memory. “My daddy loves sunflower seeds,” she told me. “One time, on
our way to vacation, he stopped to buy himself a whole pack.”
I tried to press on with the story to the class, but Maddie
was not done. “My papa catched a squid at my vacation house,” she said.
How did the squid get in your house? I asked, getting
caught up in the silliness.
She clarified. “He catched it when he went fishing.”
Emily’s hand went up.
O.K., that’s it, I said. No more questions until we
finish reading the story.
“It’s not a question,” she said.
I knew I’d regret it, but I allowed her to continue.
“I had a great time at Hershey Park,” she said.
We did eventually come to the end of the read-along, but
not before one final interruption.
“It hurts when I do this,” said Drew, awkwardly tilting
her head left and right.
Don’t do that, I said, channeling Henny Youngman.
