Though my idle Wednesday night is deliriously ticking away, I have some burning, meaty questions for the world:
I. Why do kids find the need to scream? Like .. all the time?
II. Is screaming correlative to IQ? (I’d answer that myself, but I’m in danger of insulting a few parents.)
III. Why do I deal with this?
Very thought-provoking questions, if I do say so myself. After three days of working with kids, I think I’ve just declared myself as the poor man’s child behaviorologist. It doesn’t take much to understand. They’re cute, but they scream. They’re cute, but they ask weird questions, e.g. “If I put a roll of toilet paper into the potty, what would happen?”, “Can I eat that?” referring to a 3-day-old peanut butter cookie left on the table, referring to glue, referring to pocket lint. They’re cute, but they eat everything. The cute ones make me simper at the thought of one day becoming a mother, one day meaning 50 years from now; the others .. well, let’s just say that getting my tubes tied ain’t out of the question. (Not to air any slightly-soiled laundry to the public, but I think I’d be a bad mother anyways. I’m always calling my new baby cousin and Cathleen’s new baby niece “it”.)
I remember reading Matilda when I was neigh high and remember being really puzzled by the opening of the book, where Dahl whispered to me that teachers always said nice things about snotty little kids. Even if they didn’t mean it, those horrid liars! But now I understand. With each e-mail I pen that says “Your child has an amazing sense of direction” instead of “Your child found his way to the playground, but couldn’t make it to class when the rest did”, I understand. With each e-mail that I painstakingly pen “Your child is nice”, instead of “Your child is stupid, like really”, I understand. With each e-mail that says “Your child understands very mature concepts about this world” instead of “Your child just threatened to shoot me”, I understand, utterly and completely.
Despite everything–to answer III–they’re really cute. They kick the other TA when I ask them to. (Sorry Johnny!) They laugh at my jokes, because none of my friends ever do. This may require all fingers and thumbs, but I’m glad I took the job.