I'm in the midst of being in meeting after meeting these days. The last two days I barely saw children, which is always frustrating because working with the kids is clearly my favorite part of the job. The rest is just background noise. Or I'd like it to be, but sadly, on there are some weeks that it seems to become flipped. These are not weeks when I am a happy camper.
At the end of the day during dismissal a little girl slipped her hand into mine. "Mrs. Lipstick, are you going to another meeting?" she asked. That's when I know I've been out too much- when they assume that no matter what I'm off to another meeting.
"No," I explained, "No more meetings today."
"Oh." she looked puzzled for a minute. "Mrs. Lipstick?" she asked again after a pause, "Where do you keep your bed at school?"
I love the assumption that if I'm not going straight to another meeting then clearly I'm going to bed. At school. You know, where I live. As I explained that no, I didn't live at school but in fact had a home to go to other children overheard. "You don't live here?" they asked, confused. "Where do teachers live?"
There is something about object permanence and teachers- little ones just assume that if we are one place when they leave and one place when they come back then we must stay in that one place all the time. I do love kindergarten.