Once in a while, at my school workplace, children will respond in a way that leaves me smiling and speechless. These remarks aren’t all newspaper worthy, but a few bear a quick mention. Here we go.
This autumn, over a noon hour recess, I watched a small girl painstakingly bashing the end of a caragana branch with a rock. She showed dogged determination in completing this self-appointed task — for whatever reason. Each time I passed her, my eyes were drawn to the repeated rise and fall of her stone as she thrashed the helpless stick to a pulpy mass.
Was she taking out some simple frustrations on an inanimate object? Endeavouring to start a schoolyard fire through the primitive means of flint and tinder? Or was I mistaken about the branch altogether? Maybe she was mushing an unfortunate beetle and the twig got in the way. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer and walked over to ask the burning question.
“What are you doing?”
Her efforts halted. She looked up at me with a radiant smile and bright blue eyes. Pushing aside her long curly hair, she motioned to the stick and explained in a cheery voice, full of all the youthful candor one would expect of a sweet, six-year-old girl.
“I’m sharpening a stick so I can use it to kill gophers.”
Yikes! Hard to come up with a suitable reaction for that one.
Several years ago, during a class where a math test was being reviewed and mistakes explained, I witnessed a total of three boys argue with their teacher that 26 was the correct answer for question three instead of the 32 she told them. It mattered not that the teacher did the sum on the board to demonstrate the method, and the right answer.
Each child was sure they’d gotten it right — 26. They hotly contested her findings and requested full marks for the question. Their teacher looked at them perplexed. Eventually, one of the boys was convinced 32 actually was correct, but still refused to give up his right to the marks. He turned to point accusingly at his friend, two seats back.
“But it’s not my fault. I should have another chance. He told us it was 26.”
Probably not going to win marks on any level that way, kids.
One time I read a poem to a little tyke in first grade that delivered a lesson in identifying rhyming sounds, complete with colourful pictures. It was a cute poem, all about a cat and his well-dressed friend. For the final line the kids were expected to fill in the missing word. It went something like this:
Little Fluffy is a cat.
She sits all day upon a mat.
With her friend, a great big rat,
Who wears a floppy, purple …
“Coat!” she screamed with delight. “Can we read it again?”
Did it matter that the picture clearly depicted a portly rat, squatting with a cat on a mat while wearing a hat? Nope. Ah children, they bring smiles to each and every day.
Helen lives on the family farm near Marshall, Saskatchewan, where she works as an author, columnist, and in education. To contact her, write Box 55, Marshall, SK. S0M1R0 or go to helentoews.com. There, you can learn more about her humorous Prairie Wool Books, or newly released fantasy series.
