As a mom that works from home I get suckered into doing a lot of volunteer work at the elementary school.
What I meant to say is that I enjoy spending time helping out at my kids’ school whenever I can and if I am lucky I get to spend extra time with my darling children whom I love more than anything.
I keep forgetting that they can read now. Hi kids!
As I was volunteering this morning due to a strange turn of events I found myself reading with a classroom of first graders none of which were relations.
At this point you may some some questions like 1)Aren’t your kids in second grade? and 2) Why are you reading with strange kids? and 3) Don’t you have like 10 jobs? How do you find the time? and 4) What kind of school is this that lets you hang out with strange kids?
Yeah, I’m with you. What happened was I was supposed to be reading to my daughter’s class today. I went in early and started talking to my daughter’s teacher about NHL coaching changes (I adore that woman) and she said that her class had the Italian teacher coming in at 9:30 so we would cut the reading short, but if I didn’t mind there was another classroom that didn’t have enough volunteers and I could spend the rest of my time with them.
Of course I agreed. (see: sucker)
The deal is that the parent volunteer takes each child out into the hall and the kid reads a book on their predetermined level to the parent helper then the child takes the book home and reads it to their parent then brings the book back the next day. Rinse and repeat.
So I read with a handful of kids from my daughter’s class and then I go to first grade. The kids are cute and it turns out I know a few of them from baseball or from around the neighborhood. They seem to do their take home reading a little bit differently and some of these kids like to go into the drawers and choose their own books.
Fine. I’m a floater. I can adjust.
Until one kid is looking through the green drawer and chooses a book says is called “Parts of a Whore”.
“Parts of a what?” I ask.
“Parts. Of. A. Whore.” he says slowly and distinctly. I am picturing each of the seven or eight pages with an individual whore part. Page one: This is Bambi. See Bambi’s red high heels. Page two: See Bambi’s tube top. Page three: See Bambi’s sequined mini skirt.
“May I please see the book?” I ask trying to maintain composure. What kind of books do they read over here in the first grade. I don’t remember this one from last year.
“OH!” I say “Parts of a WHOLE. Like half or two thirds.”
And then I breathe deeply and try not laugh or emergency tweet while he is reading, but after he is done I say “Before you put that in your folder do you mind if I take a picture of your book?” He looks at me quizzically and I don’t want to confuse him so I add “I’m a blogger. Can you please send out Will next?”