Kindergartners are in general not aware of the time on the clock. They know the structure of the day, what happens when, and so on, but not the dismissal time. So the hour chopped off each day during Parent Teacher Conferences week is disconcerting to them.
Getting packed up and out of the classroom is always an ordeal conference week; after many years I have realized it will just take longer since the kids' internal alarm clocks are not buzzing that the day is over. However, today the class discovered a new and highly entertaining way to slow the process further: death.
STUDENT1: rolls onto floor. I'm dead.
ME: Oh no, STUDENT is dead.
Four more STUDENTS roll onto the floor.
STUDENT2: from prone position face down on floor We are dead.
ME: Oh no, many students are dead.
The dismissal bell sounds.
Several more students fall down dead.
ME: It is time to go home.
Ten seconds pass.
STUDENT3: rising jerkily from prone position on floor GRUEAUGHDGHGH.
ME: Oh no, a zombie.
REST OF STUDENTS ON FLOOR: GRUEAUGHDGHGH. GRRAUGH.
Students rise and walk around the rug with their arms raised, their expressions vacant and their moans unable to distract the teachers from the possibility of a missed school bus.
ME: Oh, my dead students have reanimated. Excellent. Zombies, there are lots of brains outside. Go get your backpacks so that you may go and feast upon them.
ZOMBIE STUDENTS: fall down onto the rug.
STUDENT 3: We are dead. We cannot leave.
STUDENT 2: We will be dead here forever.
ME: The bell rang. It is time to go home. You must go.
STUDENT 1: We are dead.
ME: The bus will leave without you.
STUDENTS: silence (They are dead.)
It was a good thing that the bus has been really late every day this week, and that my ten-minutes-after-the-bell conference was very understanding.
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