I recall it well, on Tuesdays and Thursdays I would walk from my Black History class with Komozi Woodward plus girlfriends Jay and Arlene to the Early Childhood Center. Observations hours were required for a child psychology course I had signed up for on whim. I had been sitting at my desk, exhausted/excited over the idea of moving from Oregon to New York, and picking out my first college courses. This sounds good I recalled, filling in the information for a psychology course...
The ECC was nestled in a older home, most likely donated to the college from one of the old money Bronxville families. It had that same smell that all schools have, a mixture of finger paint, dried play dough, and stale paper books with crinkly edges. I worked in the two's room. A simple "mommy and me" class where the student to child ratio was very high. They would play with us in a classroom while the class director, Lorelle, would talk to the wealthy, and very thin mothers in the next room. Our classroom was sun filled, with divided sections, and a padded book area. I worked there for two semesters. Those darling two year olds will be heading to kindergarten this fall.
I half-heartedly considered early childhood for a major. Two things kept me from it, one, the communications world seemed more glamorous and more "me," and two, I didn't necessarily want to be in charge of a classroom with thirty some children.
Fast forward two internships, and what am I doing?
Teaching two year olds at a preschool.
This is nothing new. I had decided working part time here would be great, and enjoyed working with the infants. Then I was put in the young toddler and finally two's room. I liked the kids, my co-workers, and the pay. I planned on staying on after graduation. Why not? The economy is "bad," and this just makes me tick–
Monday my boss called me into his office. Where he offered me the position to be the "lead" teacher in the Two's room.
I'm excited. We have so much work to do in there. I took the curriculum book home last night, and tonight I have our school catalog with me, to pick out fun supplies. Between the stress over kids biting each other, getting thrown up on, and the crazy room re-arrangement, I am excited.
I get to do something fun. Everyday. Four years later, I am doing the same thing.
So, my exciting news: promotion. Have a glass of wine, or juice on me!
