(kids)

I've had a nasty cold all week, but as I could breathe with at least one nostril today, I decided I should drag my weary, sad self to classes and do my best to dispense a bit of Christmas cheer to my students.

The morning was a bit of a rough go, but by the afternoon I had a few moments of sweetness that shone through what seemed to be a veritable swamp of crazed, almost-Christmas-vacation student behavior. I'm sure any teachers out there know what I'm talking about. Somehow, despite trying to yell over misbehaving voices with no real voice to speak of and watching the snow melt (sad), I came home enjoying the impression that the day had left on me, mainly due to two "breather" moments.

Moment number one:

I had the little CPs today (that's first graders), who generally always put me in a good mood. This day's sweet happening was the spontaneous and overwhelming desire of my kids to explain how Santa gets into each of their houses on Christmas eve. I went with it and let each kid share--it is, after all, almost Christmas, and I don't want to be a classtime scrooge, do I? I heard plenty of explanations:

"I don't have a chimney, so Santa just comes in the front door!"
"Well, at my house, he doesn't come in the front door--he just climbs up a big ladder to my balcony!"
"I hope Santa doesn't try to come down the chimney like the other years because this time there's glass in it!"
"We don't have a balcony or a chimney, so Mom says Santa has to climb in the window!"

My favorite one of all, though, was a little girl with big, believing eyes who explained quite matter-of-factly:

"Well, I think our windows are too small and since we live in an apartment he can't come in the front door (he doesn't know the code), so I just don't know how he does it but the best part is that he comes in and leaves the presents all the same!"

Moment number two:

Immediately following that class I had CE2s, the third graders. This is one of my most talkative classes, and they were in rare form today. I was doing oral evaluations in the hallway and trying to keep an eye on them while they bickered and complained and interrupted. They were really awful, and I was nothing short of pissed. Because of their behavior, we didn't have time for me to read 'Twas the night before Christmas' to them as I'd planned. (You may think it odd that I would read that poem to kids whose most recent challenging English lesson was on colors. It might be, but given that I'm sick, they're crazy, and they don't really hear the flow of English very often, I decided it was an acceptable part of a Christmas lesson.) With my other classes, I passed out coloring sheets, had them repeat and write "Merry Christmas," and then introduced the poem. I told them not to worry about understanding it, but encouraged them instead to listen to the pretty rhymes in English while they colored. In every class, I was pleasantly surprised at how well it went over. The students would settle in with their markers, and I would proceed with an expressive reading of the poem to a completely silent, enthralled audience. Again, those who have ever dealt with several kids at a time know how rare that can be. So back to my CE2s. Flustered at the end of class, I told them they could all go to recess, and as an afterthought threw out the option of staying in and listening to the poem if they wanted. I then went to their teacher to discuss the oral evals and got caught up in a bit of chit-chat. One student, Pablo, came and tugged at my sleeve. Now, you should know that Pablo was probably the most disruptive student of the day, and he'd gotten a special lecture from me already. I turned to him with an exasperated "oui?" I expected him to start explaining away his actions again, but was thrown off guard when he said, "Maîtresse, don't forget--we're waiting for the poem in the other room."

After 45 minutes of deplorable comportment, it was refreshing to smile at Pablo and find 6 of my students, pencil cases and notebooks in laps, waiting calmly for me to come back and read to them. During recess, no less! I happily picked up my sheet and began my hoarse recitation to an enraptured audience of kids who had no earthly idea what I was talking about. A couple kids even wandered in from the hallway to listen. By the time I was finished, I could hardly reconcile the recent classtime frustration with the sweet faces grinning at me. "You were right!" Cassandra exclaimed, and Mathieu and Valentin chimed in, saying "Yeah, I didn't understand it, but it sounded really nice!" and the quintessential French compliment "Pas mal (not bad)."

Sometimes I think there's an automatic emergency brake in the minds of all kids--just when they've done their worst and you're ready to swear off of them forever, their safety feature kicks in with something cute or curious or funny and keeps you on their side. This is very good for the welfare of mischievous children, as far as I'm concerned. I'll try to keep this in mind as I think about going to my more difficult schools tomorrow morning...