The Garden School Tattler

The moral of the story is: always do your homework; know your audience; read the map; if the light's not on, turn it on.

I suppose we passed muster this afternoon. I suppose if someone were to visit the Garden School for the first time, he or she might not realize that Edith has been a professional licensed teacher since 1963, and in all that time, her work with children has been exemplary, totally giving and totally a work of art.

He or she might not know how avid a childcare writer I am, and how I've spent 25 years as a veteran preschool teacher and curriculum developer.

They wouldn't necessarily understand how hard a licensed teacher like Miss Rachel works to teach first grade material to young children, how much she contributes beyond the ordinary, and how her special talents are constantly and flawlessly spent on the children of the Garden School.

They might not realize how much Miss Stacey is working to present all the beginning lessons to the very youngest. It's new to her, and she's doing a fine job.

They might not realize Miss Molly is the school watch dog, the gregarious, effervescent school heart who would throw herself in front of a train to protect and preserve the life of the Garden School and her little ones.

They might not meet Mr. Tom until the afternoon to discover his great love for the kids and his ability to work with them on a level we, as women, can't achieve. Tom is an outstanding addition to our staff.

People who first come to school won't wee the tight knit group our staff is or understand about our affection and work with our families, nor would it necessarily occur to them that we would have taken the time to get to know our families. They won't understand that we want to know all our families for years to come, and that we are deeply interested in our children, and that Mrs. St. Louis sends a birthday card to every child who has ever been at the school, even if they are now in college, or out, or married with children of their own.

If they notice the cat, they won't know that Maestro has been the class elephant for over seven years. It's important for children to have animals, to be around animals, and how hard everyone works to make the animals a neat experience.

I would like to think if anyone came in and just observed for a little while, they would figure it out.

The weather report: Sunny with a few stubborn thunder clouds. Helpful cool breezes, and a couple of nice rainbows graced the day after a few frustrating showers.

The toys are cool. Not really meant for our age group, but you can bet we will find a use for everything. We are so deeply grateful.

The kids have been outstanding. We are playing football now, and the boys don't understand that the ball needs to be in play, and that holding the ball so that the other children can admire it his arms is not "sharing." When the outgoing kids get the ball in motion, it's a beautiful sight to see the run, the chase, the tackle, the thoughts flying like bullets, but when the selfish kids get a hold on the ball, they dissolve into lumps of clay with the precious ball clutched to their mid sections screaming about so and so taking "their" ball and "not sharing" and other "pink" complaints.

When a few of them were squalling, I only had to say, "That's pink," and they stopped right away, gritted their teeth, and took it like men. Miss Stacey had to cover her mouth to hide her laughter.

We had a noodle and meat sauce lunch with cottage cheese and apples and grapes and carrots and dip and salad and bread and butter.

We played Snorta - my favorite new game. It's filled with animal sounds and quick responses. Miss Rachel and I put together these little plastic boats -- a strategy game -- which we intend to re-write.

And so the day came gracefully to a halt. Four new Guinea pigs were born, and we have new baby love birds.