Some days I wish a documentary film crew could follow me around as I teach kindergarten.
The cameras would capture sublime moments that I would love to share widely, moments like Elena’s first two-wheel ride yesterday.
But they’d also catch surreal moments. This morning the imaginary film crew would have caught me teaching an unplanned lesson in basic sanitation to one of my young male scholars.
We use washable markers to write names on the rubber mat where they sit for instruction. This lad knew about the washable ink. His knowledge must have filled him with a desire to test the permanence of the letters of his name.
He knew that he would not be allowed to bring a wet towel or sponge to satisfy his curiosity about the washability of the ink in his name. Those who’ve gone before have spit on their names and scrubbed away with fingertips. This, our lad must have known, would result in a consequence he preferred to avoid.
He employed an innovative scouring tool I have never before seen put to this task: his tongue.