I spent some time volunteering in my daughter’s grade two art class yesterday after suggesting to her teacher I could be put to good use in the following academic areas whenever she needed an extra hand; reading, writing, spelling. Art it is.

I arrived at the school after Hanna’s insistence that I please not come as the thought of me in my mom-jeans, cardigan, rollers, hair-net, paisley moo-moo, bunny slippers, offensive body art and cigar were just too much for her to bear.

I was relieved to see her excited reaction to my entry into the room where desks are knee height and colourful children’s art is plastered atop the plaster walls.

The teacher knew I was eager and sent me on a quest to find newsprint.

I think everyone visiting a school has that sense of feeling like a kid again. Why am I the only one wandering the halls? Am I late for class? What will the teacher think when I rudely interrupt their lesson to ask for a pile of yesterday’s papers? I can’t even address them by name because I don’t know any of them.

One teacher passed me in the hall (or perhaps she was another mother roaming aimlessly looking for bogus, non-existent supplies) and I asked where I might find some newsprint for an art project. Perhaps she thought I was setting up for moving day and was planning to abscond with reams of paper to wrap my fine china because she looked at me like I was up to no good.

She pointed and said, “You could try Miss Melervington’s room.” She spoke quickly while walking in the opposite direction with purpose and I knew I had not picked up the name correctly.

I knocked on Miss Meowington’s door and excused myself while covering my mouth with a fake half-cough. “Oh, hi Miss Mlerbbleving, do you happen to have any extra newsprint for an art project?” Off I went victorious to begin leaf painting.

Upon re-entry into the classroom, I heard Hanna’s teacher asking the class if they knew which side of the leaf they should paint.

Hands held high, Oh Oh Oh!

Kid A: We should paint a certain side?

Teacher: Yes, we should paint a certain side. Does anyone know what side that is?
Kids: Oh Oh Oh!

Kid B: We should paint a particular side?

Teacher: Yes, we should paint a particular side. Any other thoughts?

I desperately wanted to shout, “We should paint a specific side?” but I bit my tongue.

I was careful not to try on each hat in the cubby area despite my overwhelming sense of belonging. Finally adorable hats made for surprisingly small heads. I was in heaven but knew there was a lice crisis in our town and had to refrain for my own safety.

It was a great afternoon. Hanna was proud to have her Mom around. One little boy told me I was really tall which at 5’5” doesn’t happen in any other setting other than a grade two classroom.

I was in the right place. I’m doing what I was meant to do and I have a stack of newspapers to prove it.