Dave McKean

The post where I ramble about work

Yesterday was my first day of work at P.S. 59. I got redistributed from the 3rd grade classroom where I worked for the past two years to the only room that didn't already have an America Reads tutor: Pre-K. Yes.

Eight-year-olds are basically like little miniature human beings. Four-year-olds are more like ... squid. With perhaps slightly fewer tentacles.

Seriously, there isn't very much for me to do. Keep an eye on the squid during recess, snack, and activity time, basically. And then ... just sort of hang out and look imposing during circle and storytime. Not so much with the homework to mark and the big projects to work on and such.

Oh well. I can only work about nine hours a week this semester anyway, so how bored can I get? (The correct answer is: nine hours worth of bored.) Also, the early childhood development center seems to have coffee and pastries in the foyer every morning, which is motivation to show up for work early. Mmm.

Also, in an attempt to make this post slightly more interesting, a meme and its kissing cousin, gacked from vagabondsal:
If you read this, even if we don't often speak/write, please post the first story of mine you remember reading, and what you thought. Then post this to your journal. See what people remember about you.
AND/OR
If you read this, even if I don't speak to you often, please post a memory of me. It can be anything you want, so long as it happened. Then post this to your journal. See what people remember about you.
  • Current Mood: awake awake
  • Current Music: The Bachelor and the Bride - The Decemberists - Her Majesty the Decemberists
I worked at an elementary school part time during university (it was a lab school for the University of Toronto, conveniently enough). I really enjoyed working with both grade 3 and 4, the grade 5/6 class was a bit irritating, since they were becoming too-cool-for-school, and the grade 1 class was just...babysitting :P.
Yup, I think you nailed it. They're really sweet when they're young enough that they genuinely want to help you, and old enough that they can actually do something useful.
So that's where you've been. I been missing you.
I wonder if you'll find that any of the 4-year olds are literate. I'm sure you and I were at that age, but I wonder about the other kids.
I first read one of your slashes, one involving oral sex, before you even knew I knew about your LJ, and then I guess there was the Janssen story too. I never knew you were such a perv.
I remember fingers dipped in wax. I remember a mother who was unconcerned about housefires.
No readers so far, unless there's one among the afternoon squid, whom I won't meet until Friday. Makes sense I suppose, since if they were reading their parents would be more likely to put them in a private school of some sort.

My mom would be so torn if the house caught on fire. One part of her would be upset and try to put it out and stuff, and the other part would be all, Oooooh fire.
Well, if it's insured she could grab the most important possessions, deposit them on the curb and watch the rest burn.
Without going back into your archives to check, the first story I remember of yours concerned hijinks at the library you were working at. I believe it was tips for patrons as I recall. The writing struck me as excellent right away... The most memorable entry for me, though, was definitely your brother's your prom invitation.
Ah, that was a classic. I miss the library now.

And my brother is so secretive, I don't even know how his relationship with that girl is going. She better be impressed.