Well . . . as much as I like the days to seem longer with sunlight lasting all day, I am not a fan of losing an hour of sleep.
I mean, what in the world? Really? Who came up with this? And why?
And I woke up with a sore throat.
A thore throat, I said!
And it didn’t go away! And now I’ve got the sniffles like Cindy Brady on the Brady Bunch. So I decided to have some wine because I heard alcohol kills anything. Really. I heard that. I certainly didn’t make it up.
And I might watch Catching Fire later because I heard that’s relaxing and should be watched whilst eating
vodka pasta and bread and caesar salad chicken noodle soup.
In the meantime, my hubby’s aunt and uncle are over and we’re sorta kinda watching the dogs play while simultaneously watching Taken 2 and some of us might be blogging, as well.
And what I’m blogging about today is a little management/trick/transition tool that I use every once in awhile when I remember it.
For example, I used it this week when I remembered I had it in my bag of tricks, and my kids were in awe and then it dawned on me it was the first time I’d used it this year.
I am forgetful.
I have too many tricks.
This is what happens after teaching in the same grade for seventeen years. You lose track.
So, anyways, my all time favorite transitional tool is music. My kids know that if I play a song, they have to be on the carpet before the song is over. I like to use Heidi songs or Math songs or Disco songs or Katy Perry songs or Sitcom songs (because they’re short and I learned that from Rick Morris who is absolutely brilliant!) or I just sing my own song that I make up such as Hurry Hurry Now You’re Taking Way Too Long To Clean Up And I Am Losing My Mind You Cannot Organize Your Pencil Box Right Now Ooh La La and Do Do Di Di Thank You Very Much For Joining Us Mr. and Mrs. Slow Poke! (Be sure to look for this song on the Billboard Top 20)
Well, anyways, I remembered that I had this song and my kids were enthralled by it and it also made me remember that I love first graders and they are actually little preschoolers trapped inside six and seven year old bodies.
So as my kids are coming to the carpet, I sing . . .