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Caterpillar Kisses: Lessons My Kindergarten Class Taught Me About Life - Hardcover

Naman, Christine Pisera

 
9780385513876: Caterpillar Kisses: Lessons My Kindergarten Class Taught Me About Life
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0385513879 ISBN 13: 9780385513876
Verlag: Doubleday, 2005

Inhaltsangabe

Encompassing the theme of transformation and development, an inspirational collection of reflections, insights, and observations features real-life vignettes for each month of the year based on the author's experiences as a former kindergarten teacher. 17,500 first printing.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

CHRISTINE PISERA NAMAN is a writer and a stay-at-home mom in Monroeville, Pennsylvania, where she lives with her husband and three small children. She is the author of Faces of Hope, a book about babies born on September 11, 2001. She has written for several magazines, and is a frequent contributor to the Chicken Soup for the Soul series.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1


August


The First Day of School


It was the first day of school, the first hour to be exact, and I sat at my desk in the front of the room surveying the class before me. The motley crew of five-year-olds scattered in front of me comprised this year's kindergarten class. The names and faces change from year to year. They are boys and girls, tall and short, plump and thin. They are blonde and brunette and one is always a redhead. Their hair is short and long. Their uniforms are neatly pressed and wrinkled. They come bearing everything but the kitchen sink and they come empty handed. They are always very different from, yet very similar to, last year's class. They are also very different from, yet very similar to, one another. However, although each comes in a unique outer wrapping, inside they are all five-year-olds. And I have always found five-year-olds to be a very good thing.

They sat before me, each coloring a paper caterpillar with their name printed on it. This was one of my favorite "getting to know you" activities. I have found through the years that there is nothing children enjoy more than seeing their name anywhere and everywhere. Printed big, bright, and bold. They enjoy it; they become flattered and proud. "If my name is here, I must belong," their eyes seem to say.

I studied them with interest, noting how uniquely they approached the task assigned to them. Some sat straight and tall, coloring perfectly and confidently inside the lines as if they were modeling for a Norman Rockwell painting, while others looked more like Spanky and the gang from The Little Rascals, disheveled, slouching, and wielding each crayon wildly like a sword.

I rose from my desk and walked around the room offering encouragement with positive words and gentle touches on the shoulder. "These are simply the most beautiful caterpillars I have ever seen," I gushed.

As I continued to weave in and out of the desks, a clamor from the hallway drew my attention. Another class was passing by my doorway on their way to the gym. I did a double take as I realized it was not just any class, but my kindergarten class from last year--this year's first graders. I paused and watched as they scampered by, some of them waving. They had outgrown me. My heart melted and a lump formed in my throat as I watched them. A flood of memories washed over me. How they had grown! They had stumbled in last year so young, so insecure, with wide eyes and cowering shoulders. Throughout the year they had grown and by June their eyes had become sure and their shoulders straight. As the line of children dwindled, the flood of memories dried, leaving just a drop in the corner of my eye. I sighed and wiped the tear away with a quick hand.

"Teacher?" My thoughts were interrupted. Last year disappeared.

"Teacher?" persisted a voice from a straight and tall inside-of-the-lines colorer in the front row. "If we are caterpillars now," she asked, with her blonde ponytail bobbing, "will we be butterflies when kindergarten is over?"

I smiled at her as she tilted her head to admire her perfectly crayoned caterpillar. "Yes, Julie," I said, reading her name off the page. Her eyes darted to mine at the sound of her name. She smiled and blushed, surprised that I knew it.

"Yes," I said again, smiling to myself and enjoying the thought. I savored the image in my head for a moment longer; then, as the last first grader danced by my door, I said, "Yes, I believe you will be."

And with that, I somehow had a new understanding of the work set before me for the next ten months, the work that God had sent me to do.

Nurturing wiggling little caterpillars into beautiful baby butterflies.


2


September


An Apple for the Teacher


"It's for you," she said, boldly dropping a bruised red apple onto my desk. The apple wobbled unsteadily for a few seconds, then settled on its bottom.

"Thank you," I said warmly, peering into the part of her eyes I could see. Her blonde hair hung straight, covering most of her chestnut eyes.

"Sometimes haircuts cost more than the people in this neighborhood can afford," an experienced teacher once told me.
"That was very nice of you," I said, gently smoothing the hair away from her face. "I'll enjoy it with my lunch," I promised.

She stared at me blankly, then turned on her heels and returned to her seat. Only momentarily put off by her lack of reaction, I went back to my own work. But the strange silence that fell upon the classroom distracted me. I raised my eyes to find twenty pairs of five-year-old eyes staring back at me. I had no idea what they were looking at. I looked at them. Unblinking, they looked at me.

"They're waiting for you to eat the apple," said a voice that suddenly appeared next to me. It was the voice of Mary, who taught in the classroom next to mine. She had a habit of appearing out of nowhere. She would often startle me, as she did then. I would joke with her that she was always creeping up on me. I looked at her questioningly.

"They're waiting for you to eat the apple," she explained softly. "The teacher who had this job before you never would. She looked down upon these kids and their families. She didn't understand that dirty and poor are not the same thing. These people just don't have a lot of money. But it doesn't mean that they're bad or unclean. She said she'd never eat anything that came out of their homes. The problem is, the kids knew she said it and so did their parents."

I flinched, thinking it unbelievable that someone could have actually mouthed such words. Mary looked at me with a touch of sympathy in her eyes, as if she had just told me there was no Santa Claus.

I guess she knew how naïve I was. She had been teaching in this school for twenty years. This was my first teaching job. And I came from the suburbs. What in the world did I know about the inner city?

I nodded at Mary. "Thanks," I whispered. I was truly grateful for her.

"You'll figure it out," she said, smiling faintly. That's something she said to me often. "You'll figure it out." Sometimes I knew what I was supposed to figure out. Other times I had no idea. She walked out of the room.

Twenty sets of eyes were glued upon me. For a moment, I stared back at them and then began figuring it out.

"Actually," I announced casually, checking the seating chart that lay on my desk. (Since it was still the first few days of school, I hadn't had the chance to learn all of their names yet.) "Actually, Rebecka," I said loudly, locating her name on the chart, "I don't think I can wait for lunch to eat this apple. I didn't have much of a breakfast, so I'm hungry. I hope you won't mind if I eat it now."

I picked up the apple. Overacting, I eyed it lovingly, then made a noise that telegraphed my longing.

They were mesmerized. Wide-eyed with anticipation they awaited my first bite. After one last look, I closed my eyes and sunk my teeth deep into the apple. I chewed with my eyes closed, making grand noises of pleasure. Finally, swallowing, I opened my eyes to meet theirs still staring at me.

"Delicious!" I remarked. They bought the entire act. And loved it. Relaxed now, they shifted, giggling in their seats. They smiled at me and at each other. With the crisis passed, I pressed them back on track.

"You get back to your work," I suggested, "and I'll get back to mine." And that's what we did. They resumed their coloring, only raising their heads sporadically to watch me take my bites,...

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Verlag
Doubleday
Erscheinungsdatum
2005
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0385513879
ISBN 13 
9780385513876
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
100
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar