Monday was my second and probably final parent helping day at my daughter’s school. I love the opportunity to be part of the class, see the other students interact, and get a feel for the routines that make the day move. Having set up my own classrooms for many years, it is always a pleasure to see how other teachers craft their environment and build the classroom community. It is doubly a treat because my own child is in the room.
Unfortunately, both children chose Sunday night to have issues with sleep during the night. My daughter started it with a nightmare, benignly enough about a book that was missing, and led my son into a flat denial of sleep. He repeated, “Wake up?” which changed from a question to a flat statement and then to an exclamation. Thinking it was both developmentally inappropriate to teach him the difference, I instead put a pillow over my head after the umpteenth intervention. My wife and daughter escaped downstairs, and I listened to my son yell himself to sleep.
This night combined with the physical labor and ensuing sore muscles made me less that productive as a parent helper, but I still enjoyed the morning of being in the classroom.