Keeper of the time

Five minutes, we're cleaning up in five minutes. She sticks to the schedule; deviating from the course is not her style so the classroom is run with precise precision. Before transitioning from one activity to the next, the keeper of the time announces, 'Five minutes, we have five more minutes.'

On an occasion, and there aren't many, the scheduler is gone, replaced by a substitute. The teacher and myself take full advantage of her absence and shake things up a bit by letting the schedule slide. 

It kinda feels like the old saying, 'When the cat's away, the mice will play."

On one of those rare occasions, due to some family health problems, our mama cat took the week off leaving us mice to run the room.  

After circle, snack and free play we took the kids to the gym; they love the gym. Actually so do we, not only is it a perfect place for them to expel their excessive abundance of energy but it keeps them contained at the same time.  It's in the gym where they are free to run and chase each other, play with balls and run some more.

We tried playing on the playground but there's no containment. Once a preschooler breaks away, others follow suit and WE end up doing the chasing.  Until a fence is installed around the outdoor play equipment, it's indoor recess for us.

While in the gym, I like to take the opportunity to practice my hoop shooting skills. There are six basketball hoops surrounding the court. Four are full size and the remaining two are shorter. 

 The kids hand me their balls then watch in amazement while I take shots at the various hoops.  Preschoolers are so easy to please, they just stand next to me waiting to hand me a ball then clap and utter encouraging words like, 'Wow!' and 'Oh!" 

On this particular day of no mama cat we decided to extend our recess in the gym,  giving the children ample time to burn energy. 

 It seemed everyone was on board with our extended schedule, more likely than not, they didn't even notice. Well, all but one.  Off in the distance a sound emerged. I stopped bouncing the ball and over the laughter and scampering feet of the preschoolers, I heard, "Five minutes, we have five more minutes."

'What!' Five minutes, whose calling our time?  I looked over my shoulder and spotted one of our autistic boys with his hand to his face and his fingers spread shouting, "Five minutes, we have five more minutes."

The teacher and I exchanged glances and knew immediately what came next. We know all too well messing with an autistic child's schedule is a first class invitation to a major melt down.

 We had no choice but to follow suit and echo his call, "Five minutes, we have five more minutes.