Teaching four year olds can be challenging 90% of the time. Well, for me at least. Probably because I’m not the most patient person in the world and have never taught this age level before. So far, I feel like it’s just five hours of wrangling squirrels and trying to keep them in order. But usually there’s a moment in my day that makes me smile and chuckle in between the moments I look up to the sky to say “Jesus Christ” (really more in a prayer to keep me sane). There was one moment this week that I definitely want to share with you because it really does show how powerful our minds can truly be.
Earlier this week, I was having my babies (yes, I’ve become one of those teachers I detest because they call their students babies...but in my defense, these kiddos really are babies) catch up on some work they didn’t finish. One of these assignments required coloring with markers. For the record, I am not a fan of having students color with markers due to the fact they can be messy (I told you, patience isn’t necessarily a strength of mine) and students like to draw murals on their desks and arms, but my fabulous assistant told me I need to have them use markers once in a while so they can learn how to use them properly, so I reluctantly agreed.
I strolled around the desks to check on everyone’s progress and pencil holding skills (it’s apparently a big thing at this age), when I heard the sounds of a child wailing. One of my adorable little ones (I can’t stand how cute they can be sometimes) was using a red marker to color in a scale on his Rainbow Fish. Well, sometimes a four year old can always control those markers; in such a moment, his marker must have taken a swipe on his leg and he didn’t notice….
As the crying’s volume increased, I leaned down next to the child and asked him what was wrong. He tried his best to tell me the issue in English, but when English isn’t your first language and you’re crying, a lot gets lost in the mix. He finally pointed to his leg. I couldn’t figure it out. It was a mark from the marker’s red ink; it happens all the time. He kept pointing to the mark. I finally figured it out! He thought he’d cut himself somehow and he was bleeding. SMH.
I told him to come with me. I took a paper towel, put some soap and water on it, and proceeded to wash most of the bright red off. The lighter the mark became, the lower the volume of the crying became. I finally asked him, “Did you think you were hurt?” He just shook his head yes, went back to his seat, and continued to color in the fish scale.
Why do I share this story with you? First of all, I’m sharing it because he’s adorable and the story brought joy to me, so I thought maybe it would bring some to you as well. The second reason though is to show you another example of how powerful our minds can be.