When I tell people I coach preschoolers in gymnastics, people mostly look like I said something embarrassing and pretend that I didn’t say anything. To be fair, I would probably do the same. What kind of self-respecting adult spends time surrounded by preschoolers on purpose? (Apologies, pre-school teachers.) And gymnastics? That’s generous, isn't it? …More accurate to say you chase cats little kids—toddlers, for heaven's sake!
Yes.
And I like it.
My joke is, “Well, it’s very lucrative.” I say this dryly and cringe when people ask me, “Really?!” To which I have to respond, “No. I don’t get paid very much.” (I do get a break on the tuition we pay for the three kids we have in gymnastics, so there’s that.)
If you’re a human, you like to be challenged… A little bit, at least. According to Rachel Feintzeig's writing in the Wall Street Journal, 85 is the magic number. The average person is happiest when they succeed 85 tries out of 100. I do like the challenge of trying to coax these little people toward bravery and listening/watching for a minute instead of just going with the lure of every impulse. Saying whether or not I have an 85% success rate in teaching preschoolers is tricky. You have to define success, first of all. It's different for everybody. For some kids, spending 45 minutes out of their parent/grandparent's arms is a success. For some, it's doing a cartwheel and landing on their feet. I like the challenge and there's enough success to keep me happy.
How do I get six 3 year-olds to come out of the best-thing-in-the-world foam pit (fast and happily)? How can I get this blond ball of fierce energy to wait in line instead of pushing past the patient kids? How do I convince these little ones to walk like a bear then do a handstand against the wall instead of skipping right to the easier jumping part? How do I keep these little people from wandering while I teach 2 at a time how to climb a rope? How do I draw this nervous and even frightened little guy into a sitting circle to pretend we're making pizza? What do I do for this little person whose heart has just broken because they got the green ladybug mat when they wanted the yellow frog mat?
So many puzzles!
And boy (howdy), leading a class of little people in drills and practicing skills (tricks) is never boring. But I love the challenge of improvisation.
There aren’t many things that are more satisfying than successfully teaching/completing a class full of little people. Witnessing their progress? Remembering all the names? Satisfying. Satisfying, satisfying.
(There are some words that just really weren’t used in certain ways when I was growing up. Satisfying is one of these. Watching a slow-motion video of cars being crushed? Fascination. Satisfying. Popping the bubbles in a sheet of plastic bubble wrap—snap, snap, snap… So satisfying. Vacuuming a dirty floor, such satisfaction.)
I do have a little bit of an agenda.
Instead of saying “bye-bye,” I say “good-bye.” I say "feet," not "feetsies," and I don't say ouchie. Don’t get me wrong—I’m plenty silly—more than most self-respecting adults and teenagers—I do mostly say “tummy,” and I say “buns” instead of glutes, but I get a kick out of hearing little ones say "I hurt my thumb" instead of “I have a booboo.” I don’t care if you judge me.
(Actually, I probably do care, unfortunately.)
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