This week I started a basketball unit in my PE classes. As you can imagine, some gradelevels are advancing much quicker than others. In my third grade class, we played a passing game called Birdie in a Cage. It's basically keep away but in a circle with one person in the middle. I made a couple of passes illegal and told the students if they performed an illegal pass they were automatically the birdie in the middle. One cognitively smart but socially not, little girl asked, "If we are the birdie can we make chirping sounds like this: tweet, tweet *insert whistling here*?"
I told her if she was the birdie she could make whatever sounds she wanted to. Then we proceeded to play the game in small groups.
As I wandered around the gym checking on groups, I found her laying face down in the middle of her circle. "What's the matter?" I asked. The students told me she committed an illegal pass and was now the birdie. She didn't think it was fair that she was the birdie because she didn't realize said pass wasn't allowed. "Well," I told her, " everyone is going to get a chance to be the birdie. Now it's your turn. Just do the best you can, and try to steal the ball."
She stood up and got a defensive look on her face, "I am NOT that kind of kid! I DO NOT steal! My parents taught me not to steal. Stealing is wrong, and I won't do it."
"Uh. Okay," I said, a little baffled. "Just try to get the ball." That word choice didn't help the situation. It was already too late. She was done. So she sat out the game and upheld her family's standard of not stealing.
On her way out the door at the end of PE, she handed me a peace offering. "Here," she said shoving something at me. "You can have this, I got it yesterday at the YMCA."
Great. It was a piece of trash, a shiny foil like piece of trash.
"Wow, thanks."
I drew a sigh of relief when she was out the door and on to her next mission under somebody else's supervision.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Kid Zone
I have some pics and stories from Christmas and Quentin time, but I'll have to backtrack later and share those another time. I have had this post on my mind for the last couple of days and wanted to write it down before I forgot all about it.
My Q was in town this week...so were his parents. My sis thought it would be a great idea to take the Q to the Kid Zone for the afternoon to give him a chance to wear me out in the miles of tunnels, slides, and ball pits they have for children much shorter than 6ft. He is too young to go through the main thoroughfare of tunnels by himself so an adult had to accompany him. My sister pulled the "I'm 7 months pregnant card," which seems like a cheap excuse, but because it meant some Quentin time, I let myself be volunteered to go with him. The thing is, I hate germy spaces - like kid playgrounds, and I hate tight enclosed spaces - like stuffy itty bitty tunnels with no visible end. But Q was so stinking cute and in ball heaven once we entered the first ball pit, that I couldn't hold him back and keep him from exploring the rest of the structure.
With the help of one of my students, who was there celebrating his birthday, we found ball pit #2. It had a trampoline type base, so I got some smiles out of Quentin by bouncing him up and down in the balls. Shortly after we started playing, a fat seven-year-old boy joined us. Rolly Polly laid in the balls as well and I continued to bounce both him and Q. Then Rolly said, "I'm hurt, carry me out." And I said, "heck no." Actually, that's what I was thinking. Luckily, his dad intervened. "You're not hurt, you can get out."
"No, my ankle is hurt. Carry me."
"I don't think so," I said.
At about that time, Q was ready to move on. We headed into the tunnel, and after I shook Rolly Polly's hand off my ankle, we continued to make our way up the tunnel. Evidently, Rolly found he could walk because he headed into the tunnel directly behind me. He kept trying to squeeze by and Shae, who was watching the whole thing, told him to give us space, but he kept head bumping me in the butt. "Back up, " I said, and blocked the slide outlet so Quentin could slide down without getting bowled over by the turd who was once again trying to squeeze by.
We ditched that space and found a new section of tunnel, where I managed to bruise my knees and have a grand ol' time chasing Q through the plastic tubing and down various, faster than I anticipated slides. Once the main play structure became too crowded with 'homeschoolers,' we went to the "gettin' bigger" structure that was for kids six and under. Although, there was one seven-year-old girl in there, who told us a good half a dozen times that she was in fact "seven and too old to be in this area, but they let me anyway." Awesome.
So in the Gettin' Bigger section we had the Q - who can be a little ornery with other kids. He likes to pinch. We also had a biter. And then the rolly polly kid showed up with his dad. We let Quentin climb up the play structure by himself because it was a really tight squeeze for me, but then a little boy who Q had tried to pinch a couple of times went up, and neither came down. Then the biter went up. All three were climbing around in the tubing and not coming down the slide. I started to get a little worried because I know Q might hit if the other kids got too close and then I might get bit, and who knows what would ensue. I decided that I'd better go up and help him down, but as I approached the slide, Rolly Polly came running up in a fire fighter's hat and a sequined cape and slipped in front of me. "It's on fire, and I've got to get those kids," he said when I asked him to come down and let me get my nephew. Up he went, so up I went. I grabbed Q and guided him away from the secquined fire fighter and to the slide. Unfortunately, Rolly decided to follow us. I let Q go first, and knowing it would take him some time to get off of the slide, I waited at the top a few extra seconds. Then I went. As I came around the corner of the slide, Q was still sitting on the edge. I was coming fast, so I put my arms behind me along the sides of the tunnel to slow myself down. It reefed on my shoulders, but didn't hurt too bad until little fat man came barreling down behind me and plowed into my back with a thud. I scooped up the Q, and we headed out of the play area. I don't think the fat kid's dad even said a word. We had fun while it lasted, but at that point we were definitely done.
I don't think we'll be back again soon.
My Q was in town this week...so were his parents. My sis thought it would be a great idea to take the Q to the Kid Zone for the afternoon to give him a chance to wear me out in the miles of tunnels, slides, and ball pits they have for children much shorter than 6ft. He is too young to go through the main thoroughfare of tunnels by himself so an adult had to accompany him. My sister pulled the "I'm 7 months pregnant card," which seems like a cheap excuse, but because it meant some Quentin time, I let myself be volunteered to go with him. The thing is, I hate germy spaces - like kid playgrounds, and I hate tight enclosed spaces - like stuffy itty bitty tunnels with no visible end. But Q was so stinking cute and in ball heaven once we entered the first ball pit, that I couldn't hold him back and keep him from exploring the rest of the structure.
With the help of one of my students, who was there celebrating his birthday, we found ball pit #2. It had a trampoline type base, so I got some smiles out of Quentin by bouncing him up and down in the balls. Shortly after we started playing, a fat seven-year-old boy joined us. Rolly Polly laid in the balls as well and I continued to bounce both him and Q. Then Rolly said, "I'm hurt, carry me out." And I said, "heck no." Actually, that's what I was thinking. Luckily, his dad intervened. "You're not hurt, you can get out."
"No, my ankle is hurt. Carry me."
"I don't think so," I said.
At about that time, Q was ready to move on. We headed into the tunnel, and after I shook Rolly Polly's hand off my ankle, we continued to make our way up the tunnel. Evidently, Rolly found he could walk because he headed into the tunnel directly behind me. He kept trying to squeeze by and Shae, who was watching the whole thing, told him to give us space, but he kept head bumping me in the butt. "Back up, " I said, and blocked the slide outlet so Quentin could slide down without getting bowled over by the turd who was once again trying to squeeze by.
We ditched that space and found a new section of tunnel, where I managed to bruise my knees and have a grand ol' time chasing Q through the plastic tubing and down various, faster than I anticipated slides. Once the main play structure became too crowded with 'homeschoolers,' we went to the "gettin' bigger" structure that was for kids six and under. Although, there was one seven-year-old girl in there, who told us a good half a dozen times that she was in fact "seven and too old to be in this area, but they let me anyway." Awesome.
So in the Gettin' Bigger section we had the Q - who can be a little ornery with other kids. He likes to pinch. We also had a biter. And then the rolly polly kid showed up with his dad. We let Quentin climb up the play structure by himself because it was a really tight squeeze for me, but then a little boy who Q had tried to pinch a couple of times went up, and neither came down. Then the biter went up. All three were climbing around in the tubing and not coming down the slide. I started to get a little worried because I know Q might hit if the other kids got too close and then I might get bit, and who knows what would ensue. I decided that I'd better go up and help him down, but as I approached the slide, Rolly Polly came running up in a fire fighter's hat and a sequined cape and slipped in front of me. "It's on fire, and I've got to get those kids," he said when I asked him to come down and let me get my nephew. Up he went, so up I went. I grabbed Q and guided him away from the secquined fire fighter and to the slide. Unfortunately, Rolly decided to follow us. I let Q go first, and knowing it would take him some time to get off of the slide, I waited at the top a few extra seconds. Then I went. As I came around the corner of the slide, Q was still sitting on the edge. I was coming fast, so I put my arms behind me along the sides of the tunnel to slow myself down. It reefed on my shoulders, but didn't hurt too bad until little fat man came barreling down behind me and plowed into my back with a thud. I scooped up the Q, and we headed out of the play area. I don't think the fat kid's dad even said a word. We had fun while it lasted, but at that point we were definitely done.
I don't think we'll be back again soon.
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