I still remember about the day I stopped crying at nursery school. Until then, I think I stayed by the glass door and cried as I watched my mother disappear into the distance, but that morning, I went into the playroom and decided that I wasn't going to cry. The sliding door closed, and I held back my tears as I picked up a wooden block to force myself to focus on playing with it. I was three years old.
When we moved to New Zealand and I started going to kindergarten, the whole process started all over again. I cried like mad every time my mother tried to leave me. I don't really remember when it was that I finally stopped crying. Maybe it was when Kate came up to play with me.
Today, I went to visit a nursery school as it was part of our shadowing program. I was put into the rabbit class with 17 cute two year olds. The hardest part was making them finish their lunch. They do all kinds of stuff to avoid eating what they don't like: they drop spoons on purpose, drop the food on purpose, walk around the room, stick their hands under your apron to touch your breasts, make faces, and cry. It's amazing how they change their attitude according to who's helping them eat. A girl who would keep shaking her head to me would open her mouth when a strict teacher comes to force the food into her mouth. They can't control their pee, and yet they know how to manipulate college students with huge drops of tears and vague complaints.
One episode that might be worth noting -- a girl I was feeding (Erika) said she was finished and left her seat to pick up her toothbrush, and then the girl sitting next to her started crying, apparently because she thought it was unfair that Erika got to leave her veggies while she still had to eat hers. It reminded me of a monkey experiment that proved that even monkeys didn't accept unfairness (you can watch it here).
Later when Erika had to get changed for her nap, she came up to me with her bag packed with diapers but instead of giving me a diaper, she handed me a pair of pink undies and insisted she was going to be totally fine with that while she made me take off her wet diaper. Well, at least she didn't spit lettuce on me!
On a side note, after nap time was over, they were served a cup of milk with their snacks, and I winced as the teacher gave me my cup. I don't like milk (my mom could hardly breast-feed me). When I took a sip, it was tepid and it just tasted really bad. Having to drink it with messy kids made it harder, but what could I say after telling them they shouldn't be so picky? In New Zealand, I didn't have school lunch, so when I came back to Japan, I told the teacher I couldn't drink milk because I didn't like it. She told me I couldn't say that. I didn't quite understand her, but eventually, I learned to accept the only choice. School lunch does make kids grow up -- physically and mentally.
This article was both, funny, and nostalgic to me. I love the way children think. Their actions are either so transparent or so honest, that it makes me laugh.
返信削除Your article brought about nostalgia and reminds me of Japan when I was young (3 - 6). I used to love getting the milk in the bottles with the cream still on the top.
I had also spent a month in New Zealand when I was about 19 years old. We were mostly in the mountains during their winter. I loved the beauty of New Zealand. However, I also loved their milk. It was so delicious. It was ladled out of milk urns which had been outside, and so, was ice cold.
Although I remember a few isolated incidents when I was two years old, most of my memories start at three years old. However, my greatest memories of the toddler years came from the opposite side. I used to love watching my son do things as he played and explored as a toddler.
So far as school lunches go...I remember that they had never given us enough. I was always hungry, so I would sit in one of the isles which led to the garbage can. I would always ask the others for what ever food they hadn't touched (usually the spinach) and were going to throw away. I also saved the dessert so I could trade it for a main meal that I knew some would not like.
In High School, I had taken an anatomy and physiology class. We had to calculate our daily caloric intake over a specified number of days. I was regularly eating over 10,000 calories a day...and I was still hungry :)
Little Erika seemed to be very aware, yet, so cute in her described interactions with you. She seems to be one who will grow up to be very outgoing.
Two questions:
1) No school lunch in New Zealand? Not even a time period for one taken from home?
2) Why shadow at a Nursery? Is it part of a Pediatric program? Perhaps it is for a developmental psychology class?
This was a fun article to read.
I'm glad you enjoyed reading this! Thanks for sharing your memories. I love hearing nostalgic stories. As for the answers to your questions:
削除1) By school lunch I meant lunch prepared by the school. In NZ we all ate homemade lunch.
2) Yes, it's part of the Pediatric program; we're supposed to observe how healthy children develop (before we look at sick ones).
P.S. I think it would've been great if we had been in the same class -- I often had difficulties finishing my lunch; I definitely would've given you more than spinach!
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