Here is my daughter posing by my classroom door. She was helping me set up my room. At her school she had a classmate whose mom was a teacher, who arrived early and stayed late with her mom. This friend filled Miranda’s imagination with tales of sliding through the halls in sock feet and other such adventures. So on this day her dream was coming true-she was the teacher’s daughter with the run of the place. She got to write on the board, staple papers, put pictures on the bulletin board, use the computer at my desk, and yes, she slid down the hall in her sock feet.
At this age she LOVED playing school. Notice I did not say she LOVED school. Because she didn’t. Her teacher she loved. Being in school she didn’t like. And she HATED homework.
But oh, how she loved playing school. She asked Grandma to buy her “teacher clothes” at Goodwill. She made her own gradebook. She had some old spelling and math books, and she gave her “students” (imaginary kids, dolls, or a couple of younger girls from the neighborhood) assignments. She had a classroom economy modeled after her teacher’s system. She was a pro at putting kids in time-out. A jar of lemon drops sat on the desk just like one on her teacher’s desk. She asked for an overhead projector for Christmas. (She got a whiteboard and dry-erase markers.)
Trying to encourage her to like school more, Grandma would say, “You know, if you are going to be a teacher, you need to study and get good grades.”
Miranda had an answer for that- “Oh, Grandma, that’s OK, I’ll teach kindergarten. I’m not trying to be mean, but those kids are kinda dumb. They don”t know much. I can handle it.” Her plan at that point was to teach and during the summer, hit the road with her camper and horse trailer to ride in the rodeo.
Fast forward and now Miranda is a college freshman- and elementary ed major! (She doesn’t plan on the rodeo, though she does have a deluxe camper and horse trailer picked out.)
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