After the time-out debacle our dynamic duo of toddlers would gather for cheese and crackers. I happily leave the pleasure of the experience to my lovely coworker and set out to prepare the pacific nap room. At some point both snack times find their conclusion (the toddler section and the '4 and up' section) and the children begin spilling out of the rooms like ball bearings on a hardwood floor, crashing and bumping against each other with adults like flippers in a pinball machine trying to guide them aright. Some children must wash their hands and go pee pee, others must be filtered into the coat room to collect their 'outside things' (galoshes, rain pants, jackets, etc.). In between these two destinations one can find a variety of other activities taking place: hopping up and down on the newly made nap-cots, crawling under tables, smacking me on the buttocks while running by in a blindingly fast bolt of toddler-lightning. "We don't hit at Sophia House!" i call out limply as the Tasmanian devil goes tearing by down the hallway.

Somehow, with a magic that i can only liken to what is commonly called, 'the magic of the theater' in which everything miraculously manages to happen with a sort of frantic grace, the children all make it outside - clean hands, rain pants, the whole show. A new addition to my schedule this year is the duty of lunch-cook for the children twice a week. While the pleasure of sharing 'outside time' with the children is one that i truly enjoy i am now most happy to have a few relatively quiet spaces in my schedule to spend cooking meatballs or chicken soup or spaghetti for 14. The meals are regimented, uniform and simple. The condiments are: ranch dressing. I have become quite accustomed to the taste of rice with avocados, tomatoes and ranch (for the aspiring vegetarian this is often all that remains at the children's lunch table).
I thought with some arrogance that perhaps i had mastered the art of speed-cooking. Having lived at Camphill where i once threw together a pizza (from scratch, crust and all) in one hour i thought i could easily field the small chips of kiddie lunches pre-planned. However, the very details have become my near downfall.

Imagine if you will: 1 hour. 3 lbs of ground beef rolled into bite-size balls and pan-fried. 4 cups of rice. i bag of 12 carrots diced and boiled, then topped with honey and butter. 3 tomatoes, 3 avocados and 1 1/2 cucumbers diced and laid beautifully out on little ceramic dishes. Also, wiping down the little dining room, setting places and washing the dishes from snack to be reused at lunch. By the time i finish up this kind of work i will gain not only character but the performance skills of a kitchen commando.

The rest of the day essentially follows the old pattern involving naps, tutoring and cleanup. I realized recently that i am in effect voluntarily flunking 3rd grade for this position, at least the homework component of it. I am now very refreshed in times tables, pluralizing words, story problems and the like. However, my relationship with Oscar is sailing along smoothly with the sort of unspoken understanding that if i only pick the most important battles he will cooperate when i do. Its very pleasant, really.

And that's how life began in 2007.

I woke up this morning in the dark, an all-too familiar experience that lets you know without question that the relief of the holiday has come to an end and you have been flung once more into the race of life. For about thirty minutes i wrestled with a sense of dread. However, as i went through my morning routine the warmth began to return. I could hear the laughter and screams of the children reverberating through my floorboards from below. By the time i had swallowed the last sweet drop of coffee most of my dread had dwindled. I descended the stairs, took a deep breath and pushed the door to the playroom open. The reception i got there was warm but not overstated. Rather than shrieking in excitement from having not seen me for two weeks, the children were primarily concerned with telling me that Martin (a former coworker who has returned for a few months to help out) was back and now there were two boy teachers!!

I proceeded to the back room where i have now been assigned and had morning circle with the two year olds. This consists of attempting to wrangle two little ones into an activity that involves standing in place, singing, listening and doing the proscribed movements. Needless to say, our first attempt was not altogether perfect. In the first few moments the children were intrigued. This was a new format for them and before they realized they were expected to do anything, they did it voluntarily and out of curiosity. However, once it became apparent that we wanted them to participate the magic quickly faded. On one hand Lila broke away from the circle, pressing her face into the carpet and pushing herself along with her back legs in a movement reminiscent of a bulldozer. On the other young Isaac was flapping his little arms and jumping 360, although at least in one place. Slowly Isaac managed to flap down to a small fidget but Lila continued to doze the carpet with her face. Sadly i saw the dreaded sidewards flit of the eyes from my fellow coworker and activity leader which said, "she needs to go," whereupon i had no choice but to hook the little one under the arms and carry her now arch-backed and protesting body from the sunny little room into an adjacent, equally sunny 'time-out' room.

There we sat together, me in a little blue chair and her on the floor screaming unholy murder. At this point i had no choice but to resort to my trusty, divert-attention-out-the-window trick. Much to my delight there was a cat walking along the fence edge in the back yard, a surefire distraction for any little one caught in the chasms of irate shrieking so deeply that even she couldn't remember what she was carrying on about. Withing minutes she was pushing her little head between me and the window, begging to see the kitty cat. Unfortunately it was too little too late. The cat's time had come and gone, but she had forgotten her fury and all was well in the time-out room again.

(to be continued)