Running the Gauntlet of 4-Year Olds

I know that I am 100% responsible for the problem.  I created it – unintentionally, mind you - but I accept that it is my fault, and mine alone.  One hastily made decision that took all of one second to execute has created a daily event much anticipated by the 4-year olds and equally dreaded by the preschool staff and me.  And I am responsible.

Here is how it happened.  At 3:15 each weekday afternoon I arrive at Wesley’s preschool to pick him up.  He is in the 2-year old class.  His classmates are just as adorable as he is and are deep into potty training and language acquisition – in this case, two languages - English and Spanish.  This is a bilingual program.  To reach Wesley I pass through the classroom where the 4-year olds meet and this is where the problem arose.  In the first weeks of September, as I passed through their room, they would call out, “What’s your name?”  and I would I answer, “Donna.”   Each day they asked and each day I gave the same answer.  After a few weeks I found it wearing and realized I was answering "DONNA" through slightly gritted teeth.  Finally, it became too much.  They clearly knew my name, were having fun at my expense and I was tried of it.  This is when I made the fatal decision.  I am not sure how I came up with the smart answer I gave but it was a poor choice that has had great ramifications.  I looked at them and said, “Ketchup.  My name is Ketchup.” As I walked out of their room, I heard them draw in their breaths and let out a scream of laughter.  When I returned with Wesley they were ready for me. “Hi, Ketchup!” they called with delight as we walked by.  Their teacher tried to hush them but the damage was done.

If it had just ended there it would have been fine but I am dealing with 4-year olds here.  4-year olds are really into scatology, silly riddles and noises.  My joke was right up their alley and they still think, months later, it is hysterical.  So each and every day we live through a new rendition of the routine.  They no longer ask my name they just delight in greeting me. They have long since wandered away from Ketchup.  I am now greeted as “Mustard,”  “Relish,” “Hot Dog,” “Bun” as well as variations of my name – Dina and Dohnah are both popular.

The problem is bigger than the name calling, however.  When I arrive I walk into a room of completely calm children enjoying their afternoon snack but 5 seconds later, by the time I have passed through, they are at a fever pitch from calling out new variations of my name.  They try to top each other but, of course, remember they are 4 so it will go something like this: “Hi, Onion!”  “No, I’ve got it.  Hi, French Fries!” “No, No, listen to me, I know a better one.  Hi, Pickles!”  They are so proud of how very clever they are.  At least they remain somewhat appropriate.  I have never been called “Potty Pants” or anything like that. 

I feel really bad about it.  I taught for 34 years.  I know how hard it is to bring kids back from fever pitch moments and this happens every day.  If I were their teacher I would want to kill me.  I try to slide through without catching their attention and whenever the teacher apologies I apologize right back – I accept that I am responsible. The husband of the director is often at the school and is not  amused when he witnesses it.  I think he believes it offends me although I have explained that I know it is my fault.  He tries to get them to call me “Grandma Donna.”  They look at him with pity.  As if.

Maybe it is the weather, maybe they are finally getting past it but it seems that they have quieted down somewhat in the past weeks.  Some days they don’t participate at all and I count myself lucky.  Other days they greet me with a new variation but it is said with some thoughtfulness.  I try to help the situation by remaining distant.  Yesterday I walked in while they were sitting in a reading circle.  All the 4-year olds were intently listening to their teacher read a story in Spanish.  I moved quietly around the circle and, as I started to pass through the room, one of the girls caught my eye and said softly, “Hi, Milk Shake,” then returned her focus to the teacher.   I must admit it made me smile.  I know I should have looked stern but I couldn’t – it was sweet and she clearly meant it fondly.  And that’s why the problem will continue.  I am not consistent.  I know what I should do but I can’t chastise a 4-year old who responds to my original stupid off-the-cuff comment.  So I accept responsibility and heck, June will soon be here and they will move on to kindergarten.  I won’t make the same mistake with next year’s class and hopefully this set of 4-year olds won’t talk to the current 3-year olds.  If you know any of them, ssssshhhhh.