I thought I’d introduce you to a few of the little ducklings that are in my world this year. I’ve got some classic types, as well as a few little novelties. Introducing six of my strongest personalities…
Miss Thang: This little girl is all boss. She keeps an eye on her watch at recess and gets the class lined up before I blow the whistle. She keeps the daily schedule at hand, and always knows what is coming up. Now, granted, I run a pretty reliable ship, but most of the rest of the students like to wander around like zombies during break times until I remind them (again!) that art comes after math on Mondays. Not MT! She’s standing by the door with supplies in hand. This is the fourth grader who wants my e-mail address so her people can get in touch with my people.
Needykins: This girl is as near to me as my own arm hair. She raises her hand constantly to narrate her thoughts and feelings to me as we go through the day. “Ha, I just picked up my pencil and I thought the lead was broken, but then it wasn’t!” “Guess what? I just read a whole chapter in my book!” “Ha, this is the fourteenth time I’ve raised my hand in twenty minutes!” This is the girl who, no lie, has poked herself in the eye for two days in a row so that she can get a wet paper towel to hold over her face like an eye patch.
Speed Racer: Nothing gets this kid going like the thrill of being the first one finished. He hurries through his assignments so that he can whip out his homework and finish it up before the school day ends. In Speedy’s mind, the only thing worth slowing down for is an encore of a classic Charlie the Unicorn video on YouTube.
Pokey the Puppy: Pokey is part of the reason that I can’t keep Speedy busy. This little girl is as cute as can be, but she moves like she’s underwater. She always brings up the rear of our line when we go from class to class, with her backpack hanging off of one shoulder and her papers falling out of her binder because she wasn’t finished packing up when I left. Pokey is in her own time zone.
Mr. Perfect: Everything he does is beautiful. His handwriting is so perfect, I feel guilty making any corrections on his papers. When I display student work on the bulletin board, all of the other mothers stop and gaze at Mr. P’s work, sighing that they wish their children could produce such beauty. Remarkably, Mr. Perfect does not find himself stuffed into lockers or staring into toilets for daily swirlies; he is the most popular boy in the class. That’s life in a private school for you.
Grumpus: This little dude is like a crotchety octogenarian in a ten-year-old body. He hates it when people touch his stuff and bump into his desk, and he’s prepared with a short “Watch it!” when his space is violated. Life is currently peaceful for Grumpus because he’s the lucky winner in this week’s seating chart and he doesn’t have to share a desk with a partner.