Dear kids,
I may only be twenty without any biological or adoptive children, but I think of you as my own.
Some of you have parents who love you so much they'd stay home with you every single day if they had the choice. Some of you live in one-parent or no-parent households where family members raise you. And still, others of you are adopted and placed into families that literally chose you to be theirs.
Regardless, when you walk into my classroom or anywhere I am, know that you are loved and appreciated. And that you teach me much more than I probably teach you at the ripe old age of two!
Like the boy in the photograph, you might get paint EVERYWHERE when I find a craft that involves it, which could end up in you going home with paint dots on your little arms if I don't catch them myself. But that's how your parents know you had a good day.
That little picture of a snowman that you hand-painted in our class today and excitedly handed to whoever picked you up goes on the fridge, but I make sure to snap a quick picture first so that I can remember it!
Swim days during the summer might seem meticulous. All you want to do is throw on your bathing suit and race outside to the water! But first, you have to patiently stand there (let's be honest, you sometimes end up failing everywhere out of excitement) while I swap your regular diaper or underwear for a swimmy diaper.
And you still end up running on the pavement even though I tell you not to! Just know, I'm silently praying no one falls because they didn't listen.
If I'm being perfectly honest, on those summer days, I don't mind if you splash me with water because you want to come show me the little plastic bucket you've filled to the brim. I brought an extra change of clothes hoping for it actually because it's too hot outside!
When you come in from the playground to eat lunch, you might run all around the room or sit in a chair reading a book (depending on your personality), but I make sure to give you all the same portion of food so no one gets upset over having less "smiley fries" than the person next to them.
I lay out all of your cots, sometimes changing locations because you like to talk after lunch. I remember which pillow goes on which cot and who's monkey sheets go with the white blanket. I remember whether you like to be tucked in as tight as a burrito or just slightly enough so you stay warm and cozy.
Before I take my break, I make sure your naptime CD is playing and that everyone's gone potty if they need to. And sometimes I sit in one of your little seats (that I can barely fit into) just to watch you fall asleep. Also, who knew two-year-olds could snore so loud? But I don't mind.
When I come back in to wake you up, I know which ones to wake up first for potties and which ones to let sleep a little longer so they don't get fussy. I know which chairs you like to sit in and just how many cups of water you'll ask for during afternoon snack.
And when your parents come to pick you up, I know who had a good day and who's day I need to make better tomorrow.
You may not think I see much or that I don't care about the pictures you draw or the games you want to play, but I do.
Because you were my first kids.
