rosa_acicularis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rosa_acicularis) wrote2007-09-11 11:14 pm
rosa_acicularis) wrote2007-09-11 11:14 pm
Entry tags:
Well, I'm dead and this is Chris.
I spent about an hour today discussing the work and lives of the Beatles with two four-year-olds.
I love my job.
In unrelated news, this sign recently appeared on campus. I know not why; I know only that my Freudian English lit lovin' brain thinks it the funniest thing ever. (Also, I love pink.)
I love my job.
I wore my Hard Day's Night t-shirt today, and almost immediately upon seeing me Chloe asked, "Is that the Beatles?" This is particularly impressive, given that their faces are rather fuzzy and the fact that this little girl cannot read. When I confirmed that it was, in fact, the Beatles, the girls launched into a debate over who was the best Beatle. It was finally decided that while Paul McCartney was "the best", Ringo Starr was "the bestest" because of his name, which sounds like "rock star". (I could not make this stuff up, people.)
In case you were wondering, they were both happily pro-Yoko ("She was John Lennon's girlfriend, you know.") and grieved the loss of George "Chairison". Apparently, Paul has the "scariest beard" in Yellow Submarine. The things you learn.
Given their interest, I told them the story about "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and the hominid skeleton Lucy. After a brief digression into what, exactly, diamonds were and the various ways in which they do and do not resemble stars ("Ringo Diamonds!"), they honed in on the fact that, being over three million years old, Lucy was dead.
Thus began the conversation about death, the decomposition of the human body, and the afterlife. Suddenly, I was in way over my head. For the first time ever working with kids, I was thoroughly tempted to switch on the shiny, pretty television and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day.
I didn't, of course. Instead, I distracted them with shiny, pretty books. Then we came to one of the many post-post modern fairy tales that are so popular these days. It was called Trollerella, and while it sent me into uppity feminista mode, I won't go into that here. Really, such mediocrity doesn't deserve the effort. I bring it up because there was a subplot in which Trollerella bumps into the actual Cinderella, the two stories briefly intermingling as both Ellas ran from the ball. Kate was flummoxed by this.
Kate: Why's she running away?
Me: Well, everyone's about to realize that she's a big, warty troll in a dress, so...
Kate: No, not her. (She points to the rather Disney-esque Cinderella) Her.
Chloe: It's midnight.
Kate: So?
Me: Remember the story? The fairy godmother's spells end at midnight. Her carriage turns back to a pumpkin, her footmen to mice, her dress to rags--
Kate: So?
Me: He'll find out she's a servant.
Kate: So?
Me: She's afraid he won't like her anymore if he knows who she is.
Kate: But he loves her and stuff, right?
Me: Erm. Yeah?
Kate: (finally losing all patience with me) SO WHY is she running away?
Me: Umm...(completely bamboozled) Well, I think the whole point of the story is that you're not supposed to ask that question.
Kate: Well, that's dumb.
Chloe: Super dumb.
Me: The dumbest.
These kids are obviously too smart for me. I am doomed. (In a good way.)
In case you were wondering, they were both happily pro-Yoko ("She was John Lennon's girlfriend, you know.") and grieved the loss of George "Chairison". Apparently, Paul has the "scariest beard" in Yellow Submarine. The things you learn.
Given their interest, I told them the story about "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and the hominid skeleton Lucy. After a brief digression into what, exactly, diamonds were and the various ways in which they do and do not resemble stars ("Ringo Diamonds!"), they honed in on the fact that, being over three million years old, Lucy was dead.
Thus began the conversation about death, the decomposition of the human body, and the afterlife. Suddenly, I was in way over my head. For the first time ever working with kids, I was thoroughly tempted to switch on the shiny, pretty television and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day.
I didn't, of course. Instead, I distracted them with shiny, pretty books. Then we came to one of the many post-post modern fairy tales that are so popular these days. It was called Trollerella, and while it sent me into uppity feminista mode, I won't go into that here. Really, such mediocrity doesn't deserve the effort. I bring it up because there was a subplot in which Trollerella bumps into the actual Cinderella, the two stories briefly intermingling as both Ellas ran from the ball. Kate was flummoxed by this.
Kate: Why's she running away?
Me: Well, everyone's about to realize that she's a big, warty troll in a dress, so...
Kate: No, not her. (She points to the rather Disney-esque Cinderella) Her.
Chloe: It's midnight.
Kate: So?
Me: Remember the story? The fairy godmother's spells end at midnight. Her carriage turns back to a pumpkin, her footmen to mice, her dress to rags--
Kate: So?
Me: He'll find out she's a servant.
Kate: So?
Me: She's afraid he won't like her anymore if he knows who she is.
Kate: But he loves her and stuff, right?
Me: Erm. Yeah?
Kate: (finally losing all patience with me) SO WHY is she running away?
Me: Umm...(completely bamboozled) Well, I think the whole point of the story is that you're not supposed to ask that question.
Kate: Well, that's dumb.
Chloe: Super dumb.
Me: The dumbest.
These kids are obviously too smart for me. I am doomed. (In a good way.)
In unrelated news, this sign recently appeared on campus. I know not why; I know only that my Freudian English lit lovin' brain thinks it the funniest thing ever. (Also, I love pink.)