My class is shaping up, slowly but surely. Each year, I forget how little they came to us knowing, and what a hard task those first few weeks are, teaching them all the little quirks and rules. I guess it's because at the end of the year, they're well-trained, and it's underscored by how far they get by the end of the year. Simple things, like knowing their own last names, or what their mama's names are.
I misplaced the little slip of paper that I keep with me that tells me how all my babies get home: these two to daycare vans, this one to the on-site afterschool care service, these three or four walk home with big brothers or sisters, and so on. One child, I could not, for the life of me, remember how she got home. So, I called her up to my desk to question her on the matter.
Mrs. KLee: "Sweetie, are you a bus rider?"
Cute Little Girl: "Huh?"
Mrs. KLee: "Are you a bus rider, a car rider, or a walker?"
Mrs. KLee: "How do you get home? Are you a car rider, a walker, or do you ride the bus?"
Cute Little Girl: "No, I'm a Baptist!"