They Want Blood

As a Mormon, I believe we are all children of God. That being said, I think the 4-year-olds in my Sunday school class are trying to destroy me.

I got the assignment to help teach this class a few months ago. I was initially paired up with this wonderful young mom in the ward who speaks flawless English. My first lesson went pretty well. Preparing it was more work than I've ever put into any church teaching assignment, and in the end it was way too short, but the kids seemed to be attentive and interested. In retrospect, that probably had more to do with my accent and strange way of speaking than any language-transcending child skills. But I taught several more lessons, and they also went pretty well. My German was improving and the kids were starting to get used to me. They weren't perfect. But my teaching partner was always there to wrestle and subdue and chastise when necessary.

But at the beginning of the year, things got shuffled. My partner stayed with the 3-year-olds-turning-4 class, and I moved up with the kids we'd been teaching to the 4-year-olds-turning-5 class. The first Sunday a woman from the Primary presidency came to my class to sit in and help keep the kids in check. They were a bit crazier than normal, but it was tolerable. And I think by the end of class they could tell you that WdR stands for "Wähl das Rechte" ("Choose the Right"), so I consider that a success.

But last Sunday I was alone. In a small room with five children I don't understand 85 percent of the time. And for 45 minutes anarchy reigned. Even the mild-mannered kids were going nuts. And the already nuts kids were going completely postal. Kids were screaming and climbing tables and running through the halls. They were crumpling up the drawings I'd worked on all night to illustrate a story. The most quiet the kids got (when they were all in the room at the same time) was when one girl tripped and smacked her head on a table. While she cried it out and I held her, everyone else watched and said nothing. It was amazing. But it only lasted about 30 seconds. In the end, I think the kids could tell you that I tried to tell some story that involved birds and then we sang a song while one girl angrily and repeatedly hit my songbook.

The reason I share this is because next week I'll be alone again and I am pleading with you, people of the Internets, in all your wisdom, to share any tips you might have on wrangling rabid badgers, I mean 4-year-olds. Keep in mind that verbally reasoning with them is out of the question in my case. I can stay "Stop it", "Listen", "Be quiet", and "Sit down", but I can't be expected to be able to choke out much more than that in German come gametime when the adrenaline is really flowing. Whatever I do will have to be very straightforward and action-oriented. I'm thinking reiterate the rules and figure out some kind of reward system for the kids who are good.

With your help, and God willing, I will live to fight another day.



JEM