Some people say that babies only learn to talk so they can tell adults to stop being so silly. When faced with a new born, or a toddler, or a child, we do have a tendency to adopt that cutesy tone, speak a couple of octaves higher than we usually would and get very overexcited by anything the infants tell us.
But it’s easy to get carried away. Especially at story time. A key time of day in the Early Years is that point where we all settle down to hear about Elmer’s latest trysts or to find out if ‘The Gruffalo’ ends any differently on the 45th read through. And we all know that it’s no good to just tell the tale. We need expression, we need to demonstrate the pleasure that we get from stories and we need to be excited so we can pass our love of and enthusiasm for reading on to the little ones. And a great way to bring all this together is by building the tension and creating that atmosphere of suspense.
So I sat down to read the latest class favourite to my charges, and although I could recite the text word-for-word, backwards, I still got a bit caught up in the moment. ‘But who do you think is hiding in the bush?!’ I asked, all wide-eyed and squeaky voiced. ‘An elephant!’ The class cried, giggling as I turned the page to reveal all. ‘And who do you think is stuck up in the tree?!’ I jiggled a bit in my seat as I waited for the cry of ‘snaaaaaake!’ followed by screeches of delight. But on that particular day I may have gone a little too far ...
‘And, last of all, who do you think is hiding in the hole?!’ I drew out my vowels and slowly moved my gaze around the room, watching as a few of the more imaginative children screwed up their noses and hugged themselves in excitement. But one of them wasn’t quite so taken.
‘Uuhhhh…’ came a sigh from the back corner of the room. ‘Teacher, can’t we just see? If you turn the page, then you’ll find out!’
Sunday, 23 October 2011
Saturday, 1 October 2011
Eat up, it’ll make you grow nice and strong…
Trying to getting a child who won’t eat to take a nibble of their food can be like trying to get blood out of a stone. I, personally, find banging my head against a brick wall more productive. But there is one fail-safe tip that is always effective …
Whilst visiting my former nursery class I joined in with circle time to share in the selection of satsuma segments and raisins. As guest of honour I found myself being the spoilt with gifts of a wide variety of squashed and fingered fruit, for all of which I expressed my gratitude profusely before surreptitiously sneaking them back into the plastic bowls to be sucked on by the intended recipients.
Joe, sitting to my right, particularly proudly presented me with a squished raisin, alongside a beaming smile and a self-satisfied stance.
'For you.’ He proclaimed, staring over without blinking as if challenging me to risk slipping it back into his bowl.
‘Thanks Joey!’ I held the raisin, deciding that one couldn’t do too much damage. ’Are you going to eat some of your fruit too?’ Joey hesitated before wrinkling up his nose and diverting his gaze to his bowl. I watched to see where he was going until my attention was distracted by Benjamin. He was sitting so close to Joey that he was practically in his lap, and demanding raisins as his bowl had only held satsuma.
‘Look Ben,’ I indicated Joey’s bowl. ‘Joey has lots of raisins, I’m sure he’ll share them with you.’ Of course what I actually meant was Joey ‘will share his raisins with you, and if he refuses he will get a mini-lecture on the need to be nice to our friends and will be forced to hand over a raisin and ‘be kind‘ whether he likes it or not.’
Joe hesitated before looking down at his massive stash of dried grapes, but in the intermittent period Kiara, sitting on my other side, decided to take control of the situation. Standing up with a giggle of pleasure at her impending good deed she leant over and plucked the raisin Joey had given me out of my hand, holding it tightly between her forefinger and thumb as if it were a precious stone, before gazing round the whole room in great concentration and finding Benjamin, still all but sat in Joey’s lap. Very deliberately she toddled over towards Ben and presented him with a broad smile and the, by now split and flattened, sacred raisin.
‘Thank you,’ Ben said, all seriously.
‘It’s ok.’ Kiara replied, matching Ben’s grave demeanour.
Ben raised his hand to his mouth and took the raisin, chewing slowly and deliberately for what seemed like at least five minutes before swallowing with a self-satisfied gulp.
‘Do you want some more Ben?’ I questioned, aware that Joey was still clinging onto his supply that was practically spilling over the rim whilst Ben’s bowl was empty but for a speck of rejected pith.
‘No, I’m full now.’ He declared, rubbing his stomach and breathing deeply.
Kiara patted him on the head before returning to her space and looking over for a bit of reassurance that she had, indeed, ‘been kind to her friends’. I gave her a smile, then glanced back over at Joey, who was now hoovering up raisins as if his life depended on it. It never fails - no way is as effective at getting a child to eat as threatening - explicitly or otherwise - to give their food to one of their peers.
Whilst visiting my former nursery class I joined in with circle time to share in the selection of satsuma segments and raisins. As guest of honour I found myself being the spoilt with gifts of a wide variety of squashed and fingered fruit, for all of which I expressed my gratitude profusely before surreptitiously sneaking them back into the plastic bowls to be sucked on by the intended recipients.
Joe, sitting to my right, particularly proudly presented me with a squished raisin, alongside a beaming smile and a self-satisfied stance.
'For you.’ He proclaimed, staring over without blinking as if challenging me to risk slipping it back into his bowl.
‘Thanks Joey!’ I held the raisin, deciding that one couldn’t do too much damage. ’Are you going to eat some of your fruit too?’ Joey hesitated before wrinkling up his nose and diverting his gaze to his bowl. I watched to see where he was going until my attention was distracted by Benjamin. He was sitting so close to Joey that he was practically in his lap, and demanding raisins as his bowl had only held satsuma.
‘Look Ben,’ I indicated Joey’s bowl. ‘Joey has lots of raisins, I’m sure he’ll share them with you.’ Of course what I actually meant was Joey ‘will share his raisins with you, and if he refuses he will get a mini-lecture on the need to be nice to our friends and will be forced to hand over a raisin and ‘be kind‘ whether he likes it or not.’
Joe hesitated before looking down at his massive stash of dried grapes, but in the intermittent period Kiara, sitting on my other side, decided to take control of the situation. Standing up with a giggle of pleasure at her impending good deed she leant over and plucked the raisin Joey had given me out of my hand, holding it tightly between her forefinger and thumb as if it were a precious stone, before gazing round the whole room in great concentration and finding Benjamin, still all but sat in Joey’s lap. Very deliberately she toddled over towards Ben and presented him with a broad smile and the, by now split and flattened, sacred raisin.
‘Thank you,’ Ben said, all seriously.
‘It’s ok.’ Kiara replied, matching Ben’s grave demeanour.
Ben raised his hand to his mouth and took the raisin, chewing slowly and deliberately for what seemed like at least five minutes before swallowing with a self-satisfied gulp.
‘Do you want some more Ben?’ I questioned, aware that Joey was still clinging onto his supply that was practically spilling over the rim whilst Ben’s bowl was empty but for a speck of rejected pith.
‘No, I’m full now.’ He declared, rubbing his stomach and breathing deeply.
Kiara patted him on the head before returning to her space and looking over for a bit of reassurance that she had, indeed, ‘been kind to her friends’. I gave her a smile, then glanced back over at Joey, who was now hoovering up raisins as if his life depended on it. It never fails - no way is as effective at getting a child to eat as threatening - explicitly or otherwise - to give their food to one of their peers.
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