Out of My Element

Just a couple minutes into Sunday School, one of the Primary workers came in and found me (Whitney was in the hall doing some YW stuff, so I was sitting alone) and asked if I could sub for one of the primary classes. I said, "Sure" and followed him to the Primary room.

Just as I sat down with a row of five 4-year-olds, the Sharing Time teacher was handing out information sheets for the children to fill out about themselves. I helped them write the things it asked for. That was easy enough. So far, so good. But when singing time rolled around, Brock was getting antsy.

"Please don't kick the back of her chair."

(Brock): "I'm not kicking it."

(Me): "Well she doesn't like it when your shoes touch her chair."

After several times asking him if he wanted to sing the song everyone else was learning (and him saying nothing), he informed me he had to go potty. So away we went. After assuring me he knew how the short urinal worked, and after pulling his pants all the way down to the ground, he said, "I don't want you to see me."

"I don't want to see you. I'll be here inside this stall."

.......nothing..........

......silence............

....uneasy grunting.......

"Brock, are you okay?"

"Um, I think I need to go in there."

"You need to come use the big toilet?"

"Yeah."

He proceeded to waddle across the bathroom with his pants around his ankles and fortunately, made it to the big toilet and could handle everything from that point on (which was quite impressive, if I do say so myself).

At that point it was just about time to head to class. I was given a manual that had the lesson about families in it. I'll say this much: the manual provided me with plenty of stuff to teach a class of adults, but you tend to use up bullet points and discussion topics a lot faster when your pupils are 4.

As I tried to get the kiddos to answer questions, Brock decided he'd had enough of his shoes. Hannah was very encouraging of his behavior. That meant the following dialogue actually took place:

"Brock, please put your shoes on."

"Brock, don't hit her with your shoes! That's mean."

"Brock, stop licking the bottom of your shoes."

(Brock): "I'm not licking it!"

(Me, in my head): "I'm terribly sorry. Please quite sucking on them with your open mouth."

Something had to be done. Game time!

"Okay, everyone take off one of your shoes and put it in the middle of the room."

(Tanner): "I don't want to take mine off" (in a very shy, timid voice).

"That's okay. Brock has both of his off. We'll just pretend one of his is yours. Now everybody grab someone else's shoe. When it's your turn, that person will tell you why they love their family."

The mad scramble ensued. Naturally, the size 13 dress shoe was a hot item, but of course, only one person could come away with it. But after the pile was cleared began the exclamations of "Hey that's MY shoe! She has MY shoe!"

"I know. She won't keep it. That just means you get to tell her why you love your family."

The game kind of worked. Madison was very relieved once she had her white, flowered sandal safely back on her left foot. I looked at my watch.

11:40.

I still had to fill 20 minutes! Thank goodness for paper and crayons.

"Okay, we're all going to draw our families!"

Guess what. Purple is in. That crayon had to be passed around so many times. But everyone was actually enjoying this activity. There was some chatter, but it was okay, because everyone was drawing (and liking it). Tanner approached me at one point with his paper.

"I think Brock should have to use this one because he drew on the back of it."

That seemed fair enough. Brock now had two pages and Tanner had a fresh one. When everyone starting finishing up and returning their crayons, I thought class was surely over.

11:50.

Luckily, that was when Madison and Allison remembered very important artistic details.

"*Gasp!* I didn't color the garage!"

"*Gasp!* I didn't draw my brother!"

I happily redistributed the crayons. Brock decided the best course of action at this point was to crawl under any chair or stack of chairs that he could.

"Brock, you need to sit in your chair like everyone else."

"But I want to hide from my Mom and Dad!"

"Why?"

"I don't want them to see me when they look through the window!"

"Brock, your parents aren't going to be here for a few more minutes, anyway."

"I need to hide!"

"No, you don't." And then came what I thought was ingenious reasoning. "Besides, no matter where you crawl in this room, your Mom or Dad will see you when they look through the window."

I guess the obviousness of the idea was lost on him. That or he refused to believe it. Note to self: Don't try reasoning with a 4-year old; play his game, and beat him at it.

"Brock, are you sure you want to hide from your Mom and Dad?"

"Yeah!"

"But if you hide, they won't see you and they're going to leave without you! They'll get in the car and go right home and you'll still be at the church."

Allison the Wise chimed in, "Yeah, you don't want to be here forever!"

Brock responded, with only a slight hesitation, "I'll run out there and grab onto the back of the car and fly home like this: Woooaaaaaahhhh!"

"Nope. The car will be too fast. Mom and Dad will leave before you even get to the parking lot."

I swear I saw a little Christmas light of realization turn on above his head. That was my chance to change the subject.

"Hey! Who likes songs?! We're going to sing 'I Am a Child of God."

Obviously that went quickly. Next up was 'Families Can Be Together Forever.' That one consisted mostly of the kiddos humming along indistinctly while I belted out the words.

12:55. Close enough.

Allison joyfully said the closing prayer (she had asked at the beginning of class to be the one to say it, don't you know).

Immediately I opened the classroom door. Only a crack, mind you, so that I could see any parents coming our way but the kiddos couldn't run out like fugitives. I confess, it was quite interesting to see which kids belonged to which parents (I didn't know all of their last names). Brock's mom, in a very I'm-aware-of-what-he's-like voice asked, "Was Brock causing problems?"

"He was...a handful. Was he any better for you when you were his teacher last year?"

An eye roll and a smile told me all I needed to know.

Growing into a Dad will be quite a ride.