Saturday, September 11, 2004
A Book for the Teacher
On Max's first day in his new classroom, he came upon a large box of dinoaurs. He dispersed them across the rug, and Mrs. Foltz, one of his three teachers, sat down as he began to identify a few: T-Rex, Stegosaurus, Triceratops, Ankylasaurus. When Max faltered, Mrs. Fotltz helped: Pteronadon, Allosaurus, Veloceraptor. Mrs. Fotlz is a dinosaur fan, too. Then Max and Mrs. Foltz came upon an odd looking creature. Protruding backwards from the crown of its head was an elongated bone, like the prehistoric precursor to a racing helmet that Lance Armstrong might wear, but longer and thinner. Both Max and Mrs. Foltz were stumped. Max and I agreed to look up the unfamiliar dinosaur in one of his dinosaur books when we get home, and we did. And then we practiced chanting its name: PARA - SAURA - LOPHUS. PARA - SAURA - LOPHUS. PARA - SAURA - LOPHUS. It practically rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?
Yesterday morning as we were getting ready for school, Max announced that he wanted to take his dinosaur book. I explained to Max that if he took his book to school it might not make it home. And that's when he explained to me that he wanted to show his teacher the Parasauralophus in the book. Oh, so this wasn't just "show and tell"; this was in furtherance of education. I could just imagine the scene on the classroom floor: Max, holding the peculiar looking dinosaur, was saying, "It's a Parasauralophus!" and no one around him understood, or perhaps believed, and certainly didn't validate, what he was saying. But he knew this to be a Parasauralophus. Who wouldn't be frustrated and confused under those circumstances?
Ordinarily, the school day begins with a carpool line, in which the parents line up at a porte chochere, and a teacher unloads each child and escorts him or her to the appropriate classroom. The day concludes in the same fashion, with a teacher delivering children to their cars and strapping them into their car seats. I consider this a wonderful feature of Max's new school. I can remain in the air-conditioned comfort of my car on 92 degree afternoons, and I don't have to tackle the task of getting both Boo and Max safely to and from the car. If I'm early, I even have a few spare minutes of quiet and relative solitude to read a magazine or just sit and think. Sometimes those precious minutes are a highlight of my day.
Parents have the option of parking and walking their children to their classrooms, and yesterday morning I offered to do so in order for Max to show the dinosaur book to his teacher. Max eagerly accepted. We went to Max's class and he told Mrs. Foltz that he wanted to show her his dinosaur book. He turned to the relevant page, pointed to the bony head, and said, "See, it's a PARA - SAURA - LOPHUS." Mrs. Foltz repeated his words back to him, and apparently satisfied that his mission was accomplished, Max returned the book to me for safekeeping. "Bye, mommy, see ya later!" I just hope she doesn't think this was my idea.
Yesterday morning as we were getting ready for school, Max announced that he wanted to take his dinosaur book. I explained to Max that if he took his book to school it might not make it home. And that's when he explained to me that he wanted to show his teacher the Parasauralophus in the book. Oh, so this wasn't just "show and tell"; this was in furtherance of education. I could just imagine the scene on the classroom floor: Max, holding the peculiar looking dinosaur, was saying, "It's a Parasauralophus!" and no one around him understood, or perhaps believed, and certainly didn't validate, what he was saying. But he knew this to be a Parasauralophus. Who wouldn't be frustrated and confused under those circumstances?
Ordinarily, the school day begins with a carpool line, in which the parents line up at a porte chochere, and a teacher unloads each child and escorts him or her to the appropriate classroom. The day concludes in the same fashion, with a teacher delivering children to their cars and strapping them into their car seats. I consider this a wonderful feature of Max's new school. I can remain in the air-conditioned comfort of my car on 92 degree afternoons, and I don't have to tackle the task of getting both Boo and Max safely to and from the car. If I'm early, I even have a few spare minutes of quiet and relative solitude to read a magazine or just sit and think. Sometimes those precious minutes are a highlight of my day.
Parents have the option of parking and walking their children to their classrooms, and yesterday morning I offered to do so in order for Max to show the dinosaur book to his teacher. Max eagerly accepted. We went to Max's class and he told Mrs. Foltz that he wanted to show her his dinosaur book. He turned to the relevant page, pointed to the bony head, and said, "See, it's a PARA - SAURA - LOPHUS." Mrs. Foltz repeated his words back to him, and apparently satisfied that his mission was accomplished, Max returned the book to me for safekeeping. "Bye, mommy, see ya later!" I just hope she doesn't think this was my idea.
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