At a neighborhood playgroup today, one of the moms was asking if our kids sang The Name Song in Kindergarten.
Scott, Scott, bo bott, Banana, fana, fo fott, Fee fi mo mott, Scott
Did Scott sing this? Like every. second. for months. Before I could get all nostalgic about Kindergarten and how I miss his teacher, my friend, who writes at the blog Floating In Space, said, "Good thing there aren't any Chucks or Arts in the class." I laughed all day about that.
But I did do some reminiscing about his former teacher and how good she was with the kids. How she was the perfect teacher. And she was attractive and ...classy, to use my dad's lingo.
Compared to this year's teacher who is sarcastic and a little crass. The kids think she's funny, usually, but Scott doesn't always get it exactly.
The other day he told me he "guessed" (he can actually see the amount without counting, so he didn't guess) the correct number of tally marks on the board and his teacher said, "You varmint!"
"Mommy, isn't varmint a word for poop?"
"No, sweetie, I think you are thinking of vomit, which is a word for throw-up."
"Well, what's varmint, then?"
"Um, like a fox or a wolf that kills small animals like rats. I guess she was saying you got her because you answered so fast."
Then today when Scott came home and told me that they only get one recess from now on, "Our teacher said we need to get off our heinies and get some exercise."
"What did she say?"
"You know, get off our heinies, our butts."
He might be adjusting to first grade, but clearly, I am not.