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THE JOYS OF WORKING AND PLAYING WITH CHILDREN: It’s like a fountain of youth

In late August, the Meher School, where I teach preschool, had staff Prep Week, much like other American institutions—a week of cleaning, meetings and staff trainings. Our school was not quite childless, though.

Children of a number of our teachers accompanied that parent to work. They ended up having all the play yards, bikes and toys to themselves, and the whole day to play! Though different ages, they bonded closely with one another.

Part of the fun was that this year’s crop of prep-week kids turned out to be nearly all girls! Six or seven of such privileged daughters did most of their playing in the preschool play yard where I, too, was engaged.

I was cleaning outdoor cabinets and touching up a decorative painting I’d done several years before. The girls would ride by on tricycles or push-cars, often wisecracking as they passed. The sidewalk I stood on or had my chair planted on was their highway, so we were partners in a co-operative, multi-use environment.

The play yard in Lafayette, California, across the bay from San Francisco, where some of the events recounted below took place.

The children, who were from three and a half to around eight, were extremely lively, funny and happy. Friendly, too! One sweet three-year-old even pulled up a tiny chair and sat beside me for quite a while just to talk and “help me” wash the cabinets.

Her big sister was one of the riders on the sidewalk/highway. After we’d gotten to know one another—this was actually the third day we’d been co-inhabiting the sandbox and artificial grass areas, and the adjacent sidewalk—she pulled up right beside me, looked me squarely in the eye, and said, “You’re a kid!”
“Just don’t tell anyone,” I replied.

The painting that the author was touching up, as the girls drove by on their bikes and toy cars.

This was on Friday, the day of the annual all-school lunch to which the administration “blows” the staff. The feast was scheduled for noon, and just after my little exchange with the older girl, I stopped work and walked up to the grassy area behind Room 12 on the next tier, where some tables had been set up to house the buffet-style meal. Everyone was starting to congregate there, but it turned out the Food was a little late, one of our co-principals announced after a bit. So we all just hung out, waiting.

The sequel to “You’re a kid!”


Once again up here, I coincidentally found myself flanked by my six or seven little girl friends! As I stood there wondering, along with everyone else, how long the wait would be, the same girl I’d just talked with down below sidled up to me again, stared pointedly at me, and repeated: “You’re a kid!” “

“Shhhh!” I replied.

She said, “Kids aren’t allowed here!”

I said the obvious thing: “What about you?”

With a serious face and without skipping a second’s beat, she told me, “I’m 18!”

“I want to see your driver’s license,” I said.

Once again she was quick with her answer: “I don’t have it with me today, I left it at home.”

The other children, standing nearby, could hear us. One of them, I think this girl’s sister, who’s quite a bit shorter, chimed in nonchalantly, “I’m 17!”

“I’m 16,” added a third girl.

“I need to see all your driver’s licenses!” I demanded.

They began enumerating a litany of creative excuses. “Mine is made of air!” said one. “Mine is made of flowers!” said another. “Mine is made of sun,” said a third. Imaginative replies went on and on.

I finally said, “I like coconuts a lot. Can I get one made of coconut?”

They were all standing right on the pushcart that the man from the restaurant had used to wheel the tubs of food up from his truck. It was a funny sight, the six or seven girls of vastly different heights, standing cheek to jowl in that very compact space.

I said, “They’re gonna start giving out the food in a minute. Here, I’ll push you all over to the food line on the cart.”

Then I noticed that the man who had brought the food was walking toward us, “Do you need your cart back?” I asked him. He said yes, not seeming to notice any humour in the arrangement of the girls on his cart. They sensed his seriousness and got off. Our little comedy hour was over.

It had been such zany, zany fun, all week, and especially that morning! Down there in the play yard, it had been a bit like a rural American one-room schoolhouse with children of different grades and ages playing together, bringing different age-sensibilities, but all enjoying one another enormously. And I had so enjoyed and appreciated our time in proximity. I felt proud to have even earned that “honourary designation” from one of them as “a kid.”

I’d wanted to make a video of their shenanigans about their ages and driver’s licenses, while they were standing together on that cart, but not having permission from their parents, had refrained. My photos here of our morning venue can only vaguely suggest the time we had. You’ll have to use your imagination.

Can you see the vapour trails of the bikes and pushcarts on that sidewalk between the play yard grass and the sidewalk? Can you feel them now? Can you hear the laughter fading in the air?

A little?

«RELATED READ» LITTLE BUDDHAS: A preschool teacher’s latest adventure with his young charges»


images: Max Reif

The post THE JOYS OF WORKING AND PLAYING WITH CHILDREN: It’s like a fountain of youth appeared first on The Mindful Word.



This post first appeared on The Mindful Word ⋆ Journal Of Mindfulness And En, please read the originial post: here

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