After a week away, I was back upstairs with the 3 to 5-year-olds today. As usual, there were new kids and familiar ones were gone.
One new boy (call him Rasheem) latched onto me when I started reading a counting book. Another kid, a very large 3-year-old, probably the biggest and most active in the room, came up and was being disruptive with some maracas. I started scat singing and pretty soon had a rhythm section instead of three hyperactive boys and a girl who also wanted my attention.
The boy, call him Kiante, was a twin. His brother was there, too, dressed in an identical shirt but easily a head shorter and probably two-thirds the weight of his brother. Another, smaller set of twins wore matched red and white rugby shirts. Again, one clearly had won the struggle in the womb, but his tiny brother was a fierce fighter. I saw him lash out quickly at a much bigger boy, making him cry.
A lot of refereeing this morning. The kids like to crowd into tight places and someone ends up getting pinched or knocked over or kicked by another whose personal space has been violated. They're supposed to use their words to settle these problems, but that work is ongoing only in preschool. In the room or other areas of the shelter, an aggressive face and surprising flurry of punches may be drawn on, because who knows what rules the other guy is following at the moment?
Kiante was especially prone to getting physical, but that meant I could watch him. The other kids blow hot and cold. Sometimes they seem placid and engaged in what's going on around them. Then seconds later, they start acting out.
You can especially what state a child is in during "morning meeting," when we all gather on a carpet and the teacher leads a few lessons. Today, we talked again about construction, with a book and a song, followed by questions from the teacher.
A couple boys lolled on the carpet instead of sitting up. One very deliberately lay facing the opposite direction, blatantly ignoring the teacher with the sort of hard blank look you might see on a late night No. 12 bus rider. Rasheem, Kiante and his brother and Sierra all plastered against me at the edge of the carpet.
While the lead teacher tries to hold their attention, Rick and I (and any other volunteers) freelance, sort of like the short fielder in softball, moving to different positions and scooping up whatever trouble evades the others.
Usually, that keeps order at about the level you'd find in House of Commons.
Rasheem is paying reasonable attention, so I give him a few hints to help him with a couple of the teacher's questions. He comes up with the answers on his own: ladder and basement.
A few minutes later, he is asleep.
We can't let them sleep now, but he is clearly exhausted. When snack time comes, he has to get up and wash his hands. He cries. I can barely induce him to sit at the snack table.
After indoor activity time, we head outside. One kid finds some puzzle pieces in wood chip duff covering the playground. We start recovering them and collecting them on the picnic table. This is a fun activity for the kids and much easier than putting the puzzle together. It's also very appealing to a borderline obsessive personality. I'm determined to find as many pieces as possible, but the kids discover the next game, which is scattering the pieces back over the playground.
The smallest twin climbs on my shoulders. His pants are damp. I ask Rick if he's toilet trained. Yes, he says, but he has a hell of a diaper rash.
Did he wet his pants?
Rick shrugged. He was playing at the water table. Is that the answer you wanted?
The lead teacher is taking Rasheem's temperature. It's 103°. He didn't have a fever when I was holding him earlier, but Miss A has a theory. He had been going to Headstart earlier in the week, but showed up here this morning. He was probably sent home for 24 hours because he'd been sick at Headstart, so mom dosed him with Tylenol and dropped him here.
That kind of stuff happens all the time at the shelter.
I'd been pretty tough with Kiante today, trying to keep him in line. At lunch, he asked me to sit next to him, then, before he went to the restroom, he asked if I would rub his back. (When kids go down for nap, some of us give back rubs to help quiet them down.) I'm gone by nap time, but told him I would stay.
I rubbed his shoulders and we talked. I asked him to be a good boy and I would see him next week. He nodded and smiled.
That kind of stuff happens, too.
