Tiny chairs

Until you walk into a kindergarten classroom, you forget just how small those chairs are and how large your own tookus has become. I went to curriculum night at A's school the other night, to find out more about what he will learn this year and how his day is organized. And since we met in our children's classroom, the only place to sit was in those tiny, tiny chairs...I am not the tallest nor the widest person around, but I still felt like my butt cheeks were hanging over the sides and my knees were around my ears. And after an hour in that chair, my hindquarters felt as though they were having an out-of-body experience.

Despite my physical discomfort, it was a useful hour. I really like A's teacher, Mrs. G, and the class paraprofessional, Mrs. C. Both are seasoned educators (in other words, not 20-somethings just out of college with more enthusiasm than pragmatism) and exude knowledge, confidence and pleasure in teaching children.

Of course, several of the other parents annoyed me beyond all reason. One woman, who was pushy and possessive of Mrs. G's time back at Open House, had a comment about EVERYTHING and made sure that everyone there knew that Mrs. G had been her 2nd grade teacher. Not only did she talk often, she talked at length about her child (Jake) and, most damning in my mind, she talked in that nasally nasty hick Georgia accent. I am sure that I involuntarily shuddered (or voluntarily, who knows?) each time she opened her mouth to speak. Thank goodness that Mrs. G, despite being a Georgia native, does NOT have a similar accent so at least I know that Jake's mom did not learn it in her classroom.

There was another woman who also talked a lot, although not nearly as much as Jake's mom, but she wanted everyone to know that she couldn't volunteer to help in the class because she works every day, 8 to 5. Well, bully for her. Her comment was in response to the appeal for help from the perky co-room parent - nice enough woman (and well put together, dress-wise, which is always a rarity out here in Green Acres) but I just know that if we lived in a more urban area, she would be a member - and probably an officer - in the Junior League.

I had already agreed to volunteer in A's class two hours every other week so I was off the hook on the "please help" plea. My first tour of duty is next Wednesday, and I am sure it will be interesting. I wonder if there are any exercises I can do to prepare my bottom for those chairs?