the story of the soup
In what might seem like an abrupt turn around ( see it's official), we have decided to place each girl in her own classroom next year for Kindergarten. What changed my mind? That’s the story of the soup…
One Saturday in early spring when there was still a chill in the air, S. Judy shared some lentil soup with me for lunch. She loved it. So, I reminded her that soup was available every day for lunch at her school—all she had to do was ask for it. I knew that the teachers always offered the students soup and salad before the main course of either a sandwich or a hot lunch.
S. Judy said she would try it. Walking home from school with the girls on Monday, I asked S. Judy if she had tried the soup at lunch time. With a mischievous grin, she said, only, “Cinderella wouldn’t let me.”
Then, Cinderella grabbed my leg and hid her face in my pants as we continued to walk. “Why didn’t you want S. Judy to have soup?” I asked.
“Because!” exclaimed a very distressed Cinderella. With tears and a red face, she added, “I know I am not supposed to tell her what to do, but if she has soup then she might miss the sandwich. I don’t want her to miss the sandwich.”
“Of course, she will be able to have her sandwich---after the soup.”
“No, Mommy. I’m trying to tell you. Really. I don’t think she should have soup.”
The conversation went on like this between Cinderella and me for quite a while.
When I spoke with the teacher the following morning, she was very confused, “S. Judy had soup yesterday,” she told me. “Are you kidding me? Nobody, not even Cinderella, keeps S. Judy from doing something she wants to do.”
Well, that explained the grin. S. Judy had never actually told me whether or not she had soup—all she had said was that Cinderella tried to stop her and I’m certain now that she knew saying so would start some trouble.
And that’s when I realized that Cinderella needed to be in her own room.
The big sister, or “little mom” as the girls sometimes call her, was the one who would benefit most from being separated from her sisters. It just seems like too much responsibility for a little girl to be constantly watching out for her sister in the same class the way she has been for an entire school year (even though it is something that is instinctive for her), and she deserves to be free of that for some period of time each day, I think. And since her sister clearly doesn’t need to be looked after, I think all three girls will be better off in their own classrooms.
I guess we will find out if I am right in September.
One Saturday in early spring when there was still a chill in the air, S. Judy shared some lentil soup with me for lunch. She loved it. So, I reminded her that soup was available every day for lunch at her school—all she had to do was ask for it. I knew that the teachers always offered the students soup and salad before the main course of either a sandwich or a hot lunch.
S. Judy said she would try it. Walking home from school with the girls on Monday, I asked S. Judy if she had tried the soup at lunch time. With a mischievous grin, she said, only, “Cinderella wouldn’t let me.”
Then, Cinderella grabbed my leg and hid her face in my pants as we continued to walk. “Why didn’t you want S. Judy to have soup?” I asked.
“Because!” exclaimed a very distressed Cinderella. With tears and a red face, she added, “I know I am not supposed to tell her what to do, but if she has soup then she might miss the sandwich. I don’t want her to miss the sandwich.”
“Of course, she will be able to have her sandwich---after the soup.”
“No, Mommy. I’m trying to tell you. Really. I don’t think she should have soup.”
The conversation went on like this between Cinderella and me for quite a while.
When I spoke with the teacher the following morning, she was very confused, “S. Judy had soup yesterday,” she told me. “Are you kidding me? Nobody, not even Cinderella, keeps S. Judy from doing something she wants to do.”
Well, that explained the grin. S. Judy had never actually told me whether or not she had soup—all she had said was that Cinderella tried to stop her and I’m certain now that she knew saying so would start some trouble.
And that’s when I realized that Cinderella needed to be in her own room.
The big sister, or “little mom” as the girls sometimes call her, was the one who would benefit most from being separated from her sisters. It just seems like too much responsibility for a little girl to be constantly watching out for her sister in the same class the way she has been for an entire school year (even though it is something that is instinctive for her), and she deserves to be free of that for some period of time each day, I think. And since her sister clearly doesn’t need to be looked after, I think all three girls will be better off in their own classrooms.
I guess we will find out if I am right in September.
Labels: classroom, multiples, separating
posted by kim at 1:19 PM
2 Comments:
It makes sense to me.
Right now I think I'll separate mine in first grade. That being said, they are only three and I could change my mind and split them up much sooner.
I know. I always thought I would keep my girls together much longer, but this just feels right for us at this point. I think it will obviously different for each set of multiples.
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