This semester, I have a Service Learning component to one of my classes, Brain and Language. I am all about service, but previous to this semester, went about it in my own way, in my own time, in my chosen areas. As I was pre-K enrollee in Tulane University, the Service Learning Graduation Requirement did not apply for my graduating class, so I was not personally familiar with the Service Learning requirements. Anyways, for my Service Learning, I was assigned to the Bright School, which is a truly wonderful program. Previous to Katrina, there was a building dedicated to the school, but it was seriously damaged in the storm. Post-K, the director of the program, has worked with the students in their homes and has now joined forces with the Rayne Early Childhood Program to provide the youngest Bright School students with an opportunity to develop social interations with other children, with the goal being to prepare the Bright School students for mainstream kindergarten when the time comes. Like I said, its a really amazing program.So on Tuesday I went in for my Orientation. And what an orientation it was. First of all, nobody knew I was supposed to be there, and director's daughter-in-law had just gone into labor with the director's first grandchild. Needless to say, the director was a bit, erm, shall we say, distracted. Basically, the orientation went like this:
Her: So you will be working with two little girls (for the sake of the blog we will call them C and B). They are both severely hearing impaired, and the goal of having them in the Rayne program is to work on their interactions with "normal hearing" students.
Me: Wow, what a wonderful program, what can I do to help facilitate these interactions?
Her: The girls are both quite adept at signing, so if they are unable to communicate with the other children verbally, they will sign to you and you can interpret to the other children.
Me: Umm, sign? As in, sign language?
Her: Yes, we do American Signed English. You do know it, don't you?
Me: Ummm, no.
Her: Even a little?
Me: Not a word, letter, or number.
Her: Oh. Well. You can just play with them I guess. And if you don't understand what they are saying, just try.
Me: Ok, so, do the teachers know how to sign in case I need help?
Her: No, I'll have one of my assistants copy a packet of information for you so you can start learning how to sign. You really might want to start working on that. Now I have to go, my grandchild is being born RIGHT NOW.
With that, she left, and informed me that she wouldn't be seeing me again, but would be receiving reports of my work every week.
So yesterday, I arrived at Rayne right on time and went upstairs to the classrooms where C and B are. As I approached the doors, I realized something: I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to be doing...which girl I was supposed to be working with, what I was really supposed to be doing, if the teachers knew I was coming, I didn't even know which ones were B and C! Oh my.
Have I mentioned that me and children are not exactly like white on rice? More like water and oil. Yep. It's true.
So into the classroom I went. And what happened, you ask? Nothing. The children were all sleeping, and the teachers did not even so much as glance in my direction. Then a child near me woke up (apparently from a bad dream) and started screaming. Yes, screaming, that I was a monster. Well that got everyone's attention. As well as conveniently woke up all of the other children, who all promptly concurred that if one of their own thought I was a monster, then clearly, I was a monster. So the teacher's took a bit of pity on me at this juncture, and pointed me in the direction of C. Due to her hearing difficulties, C was still asleep. I woke her up and smiled. Apparently that was enough from her and she smiled, laughed, and started ordering me around to help her organize her napping implements, namely, her mat, blanket, and Dora the Explorer pillow. At least she liked me! The rest of my time with C went something like this: her saying something, me not understanding what she was saying, me attempting to interpret what she said, her smiling and laughing (mostly at me and my attempts, but at least it wasn't screaming!). Have I mentioned that C is super cute? She has pom-pom hair accentuated with pink glitter hair-balls. And pink checkered shorts. AND pink, Dora the Explorer sneakers. She's pretty fly. And she giggles when I giggle. And when the time came for her to go home, she left and started to leave, then ran back, hugged my leg, flashed a peace sign and ran out. C is a firecracker.
Then I moved into B's classroom. Here the teacher's welcomed me and said hi, but again, no instructions. So I surveyed the room, and observed...a whole lot of 4 year olds doing...pretty much anything they wanted. Including engage in some semi-mild tussling on a carpet. So my dream afternoon. Then I notice that B is sitting at a table alone, reading a book. I went over, and discovered it was an instructional tome about tying your shoes. So B and I undertook an effort to tie our shoes. This mostly consisted of me repeatedly tying her shoes, spending the majority of time having bunny-ear loops hopping up and down her legs. I think it was my killer shoe-tying skills that won her over. Apparently my mad skills impressed the other children, because they began to FLOCK towards the table. Mostly the girls. Who summarily got into fights at the table and then went and told their teachers that I was mean. And then came back and tried to get me to give them toys they weren't allowed to play with at the time. Pretty soon B was bored with the options at the table and decided she wanted me to read to her. So over to the reading area we went (we being B, myself, and my posse of 4 year olds). At the reading area, another little girl joined the group. At first, said newcomer was very impressed by me, and I apparently warranted a sticker (ps-giving 4 year olds stickers is a very bad, no good, horrible plan!). Then, I read the book that B picked out, which upset the newcomer in posession of the sitckers, who apparently wanted to read a different book. She went storming away. Five seconds later, guess who was back. I thought to myself (admittedly smugly), Aha! She came back to hear me read. Oh no, the little squirt came back and RIPPED the sticker off of my hand because I was a "meany and didn't deserve a sticker" (this is a bit of an interpretation. But her meaning was very clear). This stickering and de-stickering continued until the end of the day. At one point, I had accumulated 2 stickers. I ended the day with none. But I made it out alive. Which is a miracle considering how many germy little hands were all over me for 2 hours. I'm not sure that B is totally sold on me, but at least she didn't give me stickers and then take them away.
And thus begin my Thursdays at Rayne.
