It’s been sort of a weird day–it’s been the sort of day where most of my students have given me a reason to want to be here. Except my 6th period, of course, but then, I’ll have to content myself with the sad fact that I’ll probably outlive most of the kids that are giving me most of the grief. And since I’m pretty sure I’m having a better time than they are, even as old and decrepit as I am, I think that’s a decent trade off, don’t you?
I actually told one of the young sweet things in the English department that I wished I was nineteen again–I mean sure, I was bulimic and I didn’t know jack shit about Jack’s shit, but, damn, my body wasn’t falling apart in measurable increments, now was it? But other than the whole foot fiasco, today hasn’t been bad at all, really.
One of the things I’ve been musing about, though, has been Ladybug and Cave Troll. Cave Troll went in for his Kindergarten diagnostic a couple of weeks ago, and the conclusion was that he didn’t recognize numbers or letters, and that this is a skill he needs for Kindergarten. His babysitter says that she’s been working with him on this, but that it just doesn’t seem to register with him, which worries me. We joke about him being hyperactive, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe there isn’t something at work there–I’ve been telling Mate that his attention span/concentration ratio just seems to be off, and last night I was reading an alphabet book and a counting book to him and his sister, instead of the Boynton books which are my usual favorites.
Ladybug’s skills are higher than his.
No, seriously–she not only counted to ten, she knew what the number looked like. She identified as many if not more letters than he did. Her coloring skills are equal to his, and she understands colors enough to know that her favorite is pink and NOT yellow (even though the yarn that I bought on sale was yellow because it was prettier than the pink!) The Cave Troll just picked a favorite color a couple of months ago–bright red.
Now I’ve been telling my students for years that my kids were not super-geniuses–they seem to assume that because I’m a teacher and my husband’s an engineer, some sort of dormant uber-gifted gene will breed true and square itself. No, I’ve told them, my kids are just like my husband and I–they are smart, yes, but mostly, they just work their asses off for their good grades.
The Cave Troll is going to have to work his baby ass off even more than Chicken, and maybe even as much as Big T.
Ladybug is going to rule the freakin world. If she doesn’t burn it down first.
The future is looking VERY interesting–I’d better take care of myself and make sure I’m here to see it!
