Preschool

I used to teach preschool.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday my little students would show up at my house. I was very organized and put a lot of work into every session. Every student had their own mini chalkboard which we used when practicing writing. Once they could write their own name without help they could take the chalkboard home with them.

We had singing. I played the piano and had a wide variety of fun little songs that we went through. Every week we had a theme. We started with the letter A. The entire weeks activities were on this theme. Every Friday we took a field trip. I arranged for a pilot to show us his airplane at the airport. We visited a wide variety of places, the fire station, Christmas Tree Lane, museums, and on and on. It was a lot of fun.

Still, it was a lot of work. I decided to put my energies into something else.

That's why I was so confused when the doorbell rang and kids started piling into my house. I was teaching preschool again. I was expecting children, but these kids seemed so much older than my last students. And they were some mouthy rude boys grouped together. And their mothers all came in and wanted to watch, one of them wanted to smoke. One of the pushier mothers tried to team-teach with me. She started giving me songs and activities that she thought we should do. Suddenly I couldn't remember what I had planned for the day. I couldn't think of one song to sing. I couldn't find any of my music. The mothers were starting to complain, the rude boys were being rude. The pushy mother started telling me how I needed to remodel my house to accomodate the amount of children we had attending. I couldn't even form a coherent sentence. I felt so out of control.

I was so relieved when I woke up and discovered it was just a dream.