Monday Morning Madness

Every Monday morning at school we do a “Community Circle,” otherwise I have 20 plus little mouths running over to me saying “Guess what I did this weekend Ms. Bunnik…?”  I have to restrain from doing a talk to the hand gesture and rather invite them into the room, take a big breath, remind them we will have time to share soon enough and with a smile I redirect them to home reading and agendas and other necessary parts of our Period 1 morning routine.  I could resort to jamming my head in the storage closet and uttering quiet curse words, but then I feel little fingers tapping my back repeatedly and saying my name (also repeatedly, as if I did not hear the first 5 times).  I would rather take them head on! 
 
This community circle is supposed to be about them, of course, so I often try to skip my turn, but they let me know that I forgot to share (every time!).  Now, since a couple months of school have passed and we approach Christmas, they seem to know what I am going to say.  Rather than saying “What did you do Ms. Bunnik?” they now know and ask “Did you clean the barn again?”  I nod my head and tell them indeed I did, then try to add in a few other details that don’t relate to manure and dust.  They laugh and love to hear my barn stories (especially when the horse jumped the fence)!  It’s a world they will probably never know in their urban setting, so if I can bring a little agricultural knowledge to their 6 year old ears, then I will. 
 
In that moment of thunderous Monday morning footsteps I question why I became a teacher.  I love to hear their stories, but not all at once.  There are a few students that are wise beyond their years and understand to wait, but the rest bombard me like a flock of chickens wanting vegetable scraps.  The routine I thought we established in September and October disappears on those Monday mornings.   This chaos that is ever so close to giving me a heart attack is also what I treasure about the profession.  I am delighted that they want to know about my furry friends and barnyard excitement. As well, I want to know what excites them, their weekend adventures, what makes them curious and proud… but just “not yet!”      
 
They sometimes ask if I ever get sick of cleaning the barn and I joke and say with a grin that the animals don’t talk back to me.  Of course, those few students that are wise beyond their years know exactly what I am implying and giggle – trying not to look at those individuals that wreak havoc in the classroom!  This Monday morning I will be able to tell them that not only did I clean the barn, but I also cut down the Christmas tree from the back forest, turned the big 30 years young and celebrated with the horses and a large carrot cake!