Homophones

Try explaining homophones to a 4 year old. Yes, it is time for another Concourse House story.

Last week while at the daycare I was sitting at the Yellow Table for lunch time. Lunch this day was macaroni & cheese with a side of diced veggies. The veggies consisted of carrots, peas, and corn. The boy sitting to my right kept telling me story after story about his DS and his sister's DS and his favorite X-man, etc. I noticed that the kids at the table were well into their meals and so I said, "Hey, pal, you have to start eating." He seemed to disregard my comment as he was not finished telling me about his video game system. About two minutes later I tried again and was told that he was not hungry. This happens often enough to know that you have to encourage the kid to eat, "just a little bit, please?" This typically works, especially if you break out the number of bites or spoonfuls they need to take.

But in this case, it was not working. I was told that he does not care for this food. "I don't want macaroni and cheese." I said that he needed to eat something, what about your vegetables. He said, "I don't like peas, they are made of pee." Trying not to laugh at both what must seem obvious to him and the general comedic value of his misunderstanding I said, "Peas don't come from pee." He said, "Well, if peas don't come from pee, then why are they called peas, because if they are called peas they must come from pee. Why are they called peas?" I found myself, once again, without an answer. I actually do not know why they are called peas. I told him this but assured him that they do not, in fact, come from pee. Unfortunately, I had not changed anything for him, and so this reassurance did not help.

Then something awesome happened. He convinced himself. Not only did he convince himself, but he used more basic, not necessarily sound, logic than I would have ever though to use. He explained to me why peas are not in any way related to pee, saying, "Oh, peas don't come from pee because pee makes the water yellow and peas are green so peas must be different." I don't care if this is not sound logic, though, it was the best explanation anyone was going to give him and he figured it out all on his own. "So," I said happy to be out of the woods, "will you eat your veggies for -- " "No."

Before I could even finish my question he decided that now that he figured out this color association, he didn't like corn.

The Never Ending Series of 'Why?'

Going back to work I have noticed there are questions the kids will ask that I do not have an answer for. It's a weird sensation. Kids are so curious and most of the time, their questions are of pure innocent information seeking. A few days ago I was asked, and not for the first time, 'why do you have this?' and they point at the bulge sticking out of my neck - my Adam's Apple. (which according to wikipedia is actually called the laryngeal prominence and is caused by the formation of the thyroid cartilage around the larynx - you can read all about it here.)

I have also been asked 'what is this?' referring to the same thing. This and many other questions leave me briefly stumped. I know the natural and simple response to both questions 'It is my Adam's Apple, it is something boys get.' Unfortunately, anything that is not incredibly clear is followed by the never ending series of 'Why?'

Understanding that my first response to those questions, or many others like them, will lead to the six thousand 'whys' before I have either confused the poor kid(s) or satisfied their curiosity enough that they think they understand, I freeze and ask them to repeat their question. This gives me time to think of a more succinct answer that might avoid traveling down that road.

To clarify, I do not get annoyed by the series of 'why?' when it occurs, nor do I grow tired of it. Instead I just try to get it right the first time so they do not get so confused and need to ask why over and over again. Most of the time, when I fail speak at a level that can both answer the question and allow them to follow my answer, I end up laughing at the persistent curiosity in all of them before I can get it right. This especially happens because, typically, I am not answering to one kid, but a few of them, and their noticeable persistence attracts others and what started as one curious little one escalates into 5 or 6 kids crowding around all asking why, some without even knowing what is going on, which further confuses them when I answer and they don't know what they just asked 'why' about.

Did I mention I love my job? Sure it'd be nice to get paid for it, but not getting paid hasn't stopped me. I probably could have applied for an actual paying position this semester, but I like this too much.