A group of kindergartners were trying to become accustomed to the first grade. The biggest hurdle they faced was that the teacher insisted on no baby talk.
"You need to use 'big people' words," she'd always remind them. She asked Chris what he had done over the weekend. "I went to visit my Nana."
"No, you went to visit your GRANDMOTHER. Use big people words!" She then asked
Mitchell what he had done. "I took a ride on a choo-choo."
She said, "No, you took a ride on a TRAIN. Use big people words." She then asked Bobby what he had done. "I read a book," he replied.
"That's WONDERFUL!" the teacher said. "What book did you read?" Bobby thought about it, then puffed out his little chest with great pride and said, "Winnie the Sh*t."
The little boy came home from his very first day of kindergarten.
His mother was anxious to hear all about his big day at school, so she asked him, "What did you learn today?"
The youngster rolled his eyes and replied, "Not enough. I have to go back again tomorrow."
It was my first year of teaching in Newfoundland, and when spring finally arrived I decided to teach the kindergarten children a song about spring. As an introduction to the song, I asked the children if they could tell me what season it was. After several seconds of silence, one little boy looked at me rather incredulously and said, "Why, miss, everybody knows it's lobster season!"
On the first day of school, the kindergarten teacher said, "If anyone has to go to the bathroom, hold up two fingers." A little voice from the back of the room asked.
"How will that help?"
What’s Your Name?
At his request, each morning three-year-old Ray's mother pinned a bath towel to the back shoulders of his size two T-shirt. Immediately in his young imaginative mind the towel became a brilliant magic blue and red cape.
And he became Superman. Outfitted each day in his "cape," Ray's days were packed with adventure and daring escapades. He was Superman.
This fact was clearly pointed out last fall when his mother enrolled him in kindergarten class. During the course of the interview, the teacher asked Ray his name.
"Superman," he answered politely and without pause.
The teacher smiled, cast an appreciative glance at his mother, and asked again, "Your real name, please."
Again, Ray answered, "Superman."
Realizing the situation demanded more authority, or maybe to hide amusement, the teacher closed her eyes for a moment, then in a voice quite stern, said, "I will have to have your real name for the records."
Sensing he'd have to play straight with the teacher, Ray slid his eyes around the room, hunched closer to her, and patting a corner of frayed towel at his shoulder, answered in a voice hushed with conspiracy, "Clark Kent."