My little students are busy learning about the four seasons with puzzles, a set of rubber stamps of a tree through the year, songs, and stories. Out in the garden, they are picking the last green tomatoes. We are all amazed that our favorite spider is still living on the gourd vines on the other side of the fence. Does it have a warm ski chalet that we can't see?
When I go home from school to the condo, my year has only two seasons. For many months it took an NFL linebacker to open the front door. Suddenly, the front door doesn't stay closed unless it is locked, as I discovered when I took my recyclables out to the cart.
The older students are in the middle of an art project about warm and cool colors. We are imagining Frosty the Snowman's New Year's Eve party. What happens when all the snowdudes and snowdudettes start eating nachos with jalapenos, dancing to loud music under that flashy disco ball, and doing over-the-top touchdown endzone celebrations? What about all those over-stimulated snowkiddies chasing each other around the dried-out Christmas tree, bopping each other over the head with their twelve-inch talking Jesus dolls (or, in my oft-regretted past, the plastic toy guitar)?
Brrrrrr. Sisssss! I'm envisioning a new game of Sims Snowmen...
© 2007 Nancy L. Ruder
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1 comment:
In KY, the two seasons are "Heating" and "AC" There's about a week of changeover between them. I'm exaggerating, but only slightly.
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