Bear hunt kids song
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As I held him in my arms, I cried, and I prayed and pleaded that this wasn’t real, that I wouldn’t have to go through this trial, that I could see my kids grow up and that they’d remember who I was and how much I loved them, not because someone told them about those memories but because they experienced them.īut here is the thing-it was real. It was hard. My three-month-old woke from his nap after my binge of information, and I went upstairs to nurse him. The doctor didn’t say the “c” word, but when I went home after my appointment, I looked it up on the internet, and the world wide web said what my doctor hadn’t had the heart to put into words.Įvery story I read ended the same….” So and so fought valiantly but lost his/her life to Synovial sarcoma after X years…” Every single one. When I went to what was supposed to be a casual follow up–I was told I had something called synovial sarcoma. A few months after giving birth to my second child, I had surgery to remove what was supposed to be a benign growth in my leg. And even after I eventually stepped away from the public school system and moved on to my life as a stay at home mom, this song stuck in my mind. I missed teaching, but I also enjoyed the blur of motherhood and the opportunity I had to see little lifeless blobs develop into fully formed, smart, interesting humans.īut, just one year after I stepped down from my job as a kindergarten teacher, things changed dramatically in my world. By the end of that unit every year, my thighs were sore from all our imaginary hunts. The kids would slap their thighs along with each part of the adventure aand we’d act out conquring every obstical in our way. Splash splosh! Splash splosh! Splash splosh! We also learned songs about bears-the kids’ favorite was from the picture book: We’re Going on a Bear Hunt by Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury According to the set curriculum, we had teddy bear picnics and learned facts about bears. It all started with our first big unit of the year on bears. And it’s because of my time with these kids that I learned one of the most long-lasting and important lessons of my whole life. It is because of my accidental stumble into the world of kindergarten that I soon had my own classroom and found my passion as an early-childhood educator. Though, they did think it was weird when I put on the nun’s habit (I couldn’t give up that part of my dream). And it turned out that my love for these young learners was just as vital without the nice hair, long legs, and a scrappy personality of a Hollywood actress. And, when we had music time, and I introduced a new song about elephants with funny names and crazy hand movements, they sang their hearts out and made every single move like they were a mom in the eighties doing her Jazzercise. Kindergarteners might not love recitations of Walt Whitman, but they did like my dramatic readings of storybooks and begged me for “just one more” book every day at circle time. And nothing intimidated me more than the idea of being wholly responsible for a child’s foundations as a reader. But, just like good ole Sam I Am taught his buddy with those green eggs and ham, I soon found that the one thing I’d been running away from was also the one thing that would bring me the greatest joy. So when I was assigned to a kindergarten classroom as a part of one of my undergrad classes, I questioned if the assignment would be helpful in my path to becoming an educator. After all, I had no intention of lingering in the primary grades, leaning more towards a career as a middle school language arts teacher. Still, I told myself I could pull it off.
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And I was pretty confident that I could even Whoopi Goldberg kids into singing gospel songs in a choir for the pope while wearing a nun’s habit-which is a very specific set of skills. Or, that I could Michelle Pfeiffer a group of kids who just needed someone to believe in them. When I first decided to focus on elementary education, I’d always imagined myself teaching older grades. I was sure that I could Robin Williams a room of pre-teens with a dramatic reading of O Captain, my Captain.