I Used To . . .

. . . wish for indoor recess. I would wish for rain, sleet, snow, hail, and/or temperatures below 32 degrees. All 19 of my kids contained in one room. For the kids: no running, no falling, no bumps, bruises, or blood. No pushing, no shoving, no attempted dodgeball playing. For me: no shivering in the cold and the wind, no referreeing, no breath-holding while silently chanting get up, get up, get up, when one of the kids took a spill. Indoor recess meant kids sitting on the floor building with Legos, gathered around the computers playing games, laying on the floor playing a board game or Connect Four, or sitting at a table drawing pictures. It meant that I could sit and correct papers, answer parent notes, write lesson plans, and tackle the endless paperwork.

During indoor recess, a few of my girls would play school, with one lucky girl getting the role of the teacher and the others being the students. They'd set up their classroom near my desk and most of the time, the worst thing I'd have to deal with was cringing as I listened to the teacher-girl say something exactly as I've said it. Boys and girls, I have go to go to a quick meeting. Mrs. B. will be here with you while I'm gone. I know she'll have good things to tell me when I get back. Love you - mean it. (I really say that?) Then there's the old favorite, Are you making a good choice? And the always popular, Thank you for remembering to raise your hand. It was painful to hear, but hey - at least someone was listening to me. Teacher-girl would write with a dry-erase marker on the whiteboard, and ask for a volunteer to answer a question or solve a math problem.

Well, a few days ago, the whiteboard-writing girls stopped playing school . . . and started drawing.

This is Bikini Girl #1.


I got quite a chuckle out of this drawing - a self-portrait of the artist in summertime. The girls were tired of being cold and were expressing their longing for the warm summer sunshine. I got it. I didn't have my camera with me, so I grabbed my cellphone and snapped a picture. The girls got a kick out of my enthusiasm and really got into this bikini girl thing. Shortly after I took the photo, the artist added an interesting oval-shaped object on the bare stomach of the bikini girl. "What's that?" I asked. "It's my tattoo," the artist answered. Yikes.

Here's Bikini Girl #2, wearing a lovely and more modest green two-piece swimsuit.

I love her blue hair and her adorable freckles. So sweet and innocent.

The next time we had an indoor recess, the Bikini Girls got right back to it. This time, though, they positioned the whiteboard so that I couldn't see it. I heard occasional fits of giggles, but let them continue to follow their artistic whims. The giggles got louder, and louder, and louder, so I got up to check out the artwork.

This is what I saw:

Oh my.

After I snapped a quick picture, I made them erase it - immediately and completely.

I told the artists that from now on they had to draw one-piece bathing suit girls. Or shorts and t-shirt girls. Or dress girls. No more bikini girls. Done done done.

Imagine the look on the principal's face if she'd walked in to see that? The look on a parent's face? The "Do It" mother's face? I shudder.

I want to go outside for recess now. There may be bumps, bruises, and blood. Bring it on. That I can handle.

Knitterly stuff . . . My new earrings! Love these. I bought them for $10 at a 50% off sale at Given to Gauche, a cute little store in the center of town. They made me think of balls of yarn. Balls. They were meant for me. Balls.

Here's my Knitpicks Chunky Cable Purse.

I used Knitpicks Cadena in the color Neptune. It took me 2 days to finish and it's my first successful finished project with cables. It needs to be blocked and lined, and then I need to choose handles. It's small and cute and I'm happy.

Now let's go outside and run around.