This is a short one.
But it involves talking about the kindergarteners that I teach, so that instantly makes it feel a lot longer than it should be.
I remember one of the things I was most afraid of when I came to Russia was that the kids wouldn't like me. This haunted both my nightmares and my day-to-day routine, following me everywhere. I was going to be the worst, most hated, most awful teacher EVER. I just knew it.
So, thinking thus, it would only make sense that my fears would turn out to be unfounded, and I would be the best teacher EVER, and everything would be perfect.
Sadly, real life isn't like that, and my first day of teaching, I found myself facing a classroom of 20 kids (our teaching limit is 8, by the way) who had never had ILP before and didn't speak a lick of English, with no teachers (American or Russian) to help me.
Suffice it to say....not such a warm welcome to teaching.
I was just thinking about this today, setting up chairs for opening for my kindergarten class. The kids we teach in our class are pretty young - no older than 5. And oh boy, do they show it.
At first, I wondered if there was something wrong with the way I was teaching. Was I doing something wrong? Was I not interesting enough? Maybe I should use more objects...make bigger, more exciting lessons.....make them WANT to sit down and listen to the lesson.
Now, I know it isn't that simple. I realized, partway through, that I wasn't doing anything wrong - I was doing the best I could. And that's all I could keep doing. As long as I did that - wasn't lazy, planned my lessons, and did my best at teaching, no matter how bad the kids were being - then I would have no reason to beat myself up about it.
And honestly, taking that approach has made me a better teacher. Sure, I won't be winning any awards anytime soon, but I know how to deal with my kids.
More importantly, I know my kids. As bad as they are, I know how special each and every one is - their personalities, behaviors, likes and dislikes. As incredibly frustrating as it can be to teach these kids, I still love them.
And then there are little, rare moments that I just cherish.
Like that day, only last week, where Mischa, one of our most badly behaved kids, was the only kid left at the end of the day, as everyone else had been picked up early. We wound up pretending to be airplanes, flying around the room, arms outstretched, making wooshing noises. He has the most adorable crinkly-eyed smile, and the tiniest, highest-pitched little boy's voice. He rolls his r's all over the place when he talks - listening to him is sort of mesmerizing.
A few days ago, I brought a plastic yellow barrel for a class. I had put a pom-pom inside it, primarily for transportation purposes. When I took it out, I handed it around for the kids to look at. When Mischa got it, he immediately noticed the pom-pom. He showed me the pom-pom inside the barrel, closed it, and then hid it under the table. At first, I was the verge of stopping him - he has a habit of taking things or knocking things over just to be annoying - when he whipped it out again, dramatically displayed the now-empty barrel, and loudly proclaimed, "ABERRRRA-CADABERRRRRAH!"
I nearly lost it. It was a good thing that we rotated right after that, because I don't think I could have kept the laughter in for much longer.
As bad as Mischa is, I am going to miss that kid.
I'm going to miss Kirill, who can't ever stop talking, and always wants to tell me everything (even though I have no idea what he's saying), and has that huge, bright, ear-to-ear smile. He always speaks so earnestly, and always waves to us when we leave, or shouts "HELLO! HELLO!" when he sees us coming. I'm even going to miss how he always tries to explain his way out of trouble, when it's obvious that he's the one that hit that kid or stole that marker. It's also made me glad that I don't speak Russian.
I'm going to miss Sonya, who always comes to class with a new stuffed animal (which she proudly shows off to us at opening) and is the most princess-like little girl I have ever met. And she knows it. Long, gorgeous hair, bright green eyes, and that exasperating penchant for refusing to do something while giving me that sweet, oh-so-pretty smile.
I'm going to miss Vova, and the strange little world he always seems to be living in. Sometimes paying attention, but mostly staring off into space, making loud explosion noises, or wandering around the room, off in his own amazing, explosion-filled story. When he speaks in Russian, he puts such quirky expression into his speech that I genuinely wonder what on earth he's saying - mostly because I have a feeling that it's something incredibly interesting....or hilarious.
I'm also going to miss Dasha, for being the sweet little angel that she is. She always speaks in class, always tries to help keep the other kids in line, always does the right thing. Her large brown eyes shine and sparkle all the time, and she is one of the most kind-hearted little girls I've ever met.
I'm going to miss Velizar, for his garbled way of speaking, and his cute little boy mullet, and his absolute OBSESSION with dinosaurs. Seriously, other little boys only wish they could be this devoted. He always brings a new dinosaur toy to class, always wears dinosaur clothes, and always notices whenever we have dinosaurs in our lesson - even when it's just a tiny little picture in a newspaper someone is reading in a scene in a picture book.
I'm going to miss Polina, for her bright, chubby little face, and the way she sulks so melodramatically. I love making her laugh, and seeing her bright smile.
I'm going to miss Gardei, and his fast-paced way of talking (both in Russian and in English), and the way he says, "Please sit down!" and "Fold your arms!" whenever he wants me to calm down or leave him alone. I'm even going to miss the way he just randomly tries to grab things from my lesson - no matter how many times we explain the rules to him, both in English and in Russian (with help from the teachers), he just keeps doing it. It's like it's an impulse - he just can't help it. The little kleptomaniac.
Heck, I'm even going to miss Nikita - big, burly, blonde-haired, brown-eyed little boy with the need to hit and kick just about everything, and make mocking garble-garble noises when we're trying to get him to repeat. Yes, even you. Because you know what? I know you're a fun kid. I've played ball with you - you like copying me when I make fancy tosses. I remember our first day, how Nikita was the last kid to be picked up, and he was so shy and quiet, and I had no idea what to do with him. So I just took out a ball and tossed it. A few minutes later, he was happy and smiling, having so much fun just throwing a ball back and forth. I had a ton of fun myself.
So, I'll remember the bad stuff, certainly - but at least by the time I get back home, it will be funny, and I'll have all sorts of stories to tell my family. But I'll also have good things to remember, and talk about.
I'm glad I didn't flake out and go home early. Because this, as frustrating as it has been, was worth it.
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