They've Turned on Me

The Little People have turned on me.  Yes, this is true.  There I was just a few days ago, tripping along happily planning our last three weeks of activities, things in the classroom humming along nicely.  We're doing Sea Animals and Summer these last few weeks, and there are tons of fun activities that go along with that.  The lesson plans are chock full, all culminating in an End of the Year Fiesta the next to the last day of school.  I anticipated that the last days would end in a flurry of fun, but then...the Little People turned.

Somehow in the blink of an eye, they went from well-trained, communicative, well-adapted students to DONE.  Actually, it was a longer transition than a blink of the eye.  I noticed over the span of a few days that they were getting harder and harder to control in group settings, and then all of their "doneness" began to leak out from there.  The whining.  The intolerance of their carpet neighbors.  The ensuing tattling.  The loud voices.  The arguing back to me that has never happened before.  Even the flat out refusal to do what I ask them to do.    The grumpy ones are grumpier longer.  The weepers are weeping more.  Even ones that have never weeped before are now for the first time weeping on a daily basis.

Wow.  What a sad state of affairs.  And the truth is that I wasn't even counting the days until the end of the year until all of this happened.  Sure, I was looking forward to summer, but I also still thought every day was fun.  Until about four days ago. 

Sure, sure, I know that in the textbook world of Early Childhood education I would read that the kids are sensing a big change in their little lives, and when they getting irritating I get irritated, which makes them more unsettled...etc., etc.

However, in the real world of mutinous Little People, it can be very hard to keep irritation at bay.   For example, I might sit at lunch at the table with the kids, and the child beside me wants my attention.  She happens to be the child with the loudest, most piercing voice of all of them.  In other words, she could whisper one word while looking my direction and I would know without a doubt that she was talking to me.  However, she feels like she must get my attention before she even speaks today.  So, she pets my arm.  Like a kitty:

Pet, pet, pet. 
"Yes, Sally?" I say. 
She then tells me some random fact. 

Two seconds later, pet, pet, pet.  
"Yes, Sally?"
Another random fact.

This goes on several times before the final blow. 

Pet, pet, pet.
 "Yes, Sally?" I say as I pull my arm out of her reach. 
"Ummm, I wanted to say that I made up a song for you.  It goes like this, 'Sometimes things are wettttttttttttt, and then they are dryyyyyyyyyyyyy.'  That's all." 

Despite the admirable fact that she seems to have a good grasp on the concept of opposites, this is my final straw, and I take my well-petted arm and move away.

Ah, well.  I suppose it had to happen sometime.  It all means that it's time to pull back out the stickers, fruit snacks, or even (gasp) M&Ms. 

Did you know that there are 10 more days of school this year?