I volunteered in Ellie’s kindergarten class the other day and had a lovely visit with the kids.

I wonder if kids are different when their own parents are in their classroom. For example, when Ellie mounted me as I walked in the door and spent the majority of her morning signing, eye, followed by her heart and kissing me while pointing to my chest, it felt no different from any other day.

“Eye” love you too Ellie but our focus today is to learn about insects.

Though you wouldn’t know it from our lengthy classroom discussion about zebras and their confusing nature or how one little girl has a brother who is seven and can run really, really, REALLY fast.

I watched several children spill their snack items on the sacred “carpet” where stories were told, lessons were taught, naps were taken, head lice were spread only to choose to pick or scoop them up and continue eating with no fear of consuming fibres from a germ-laden rug whose primary job is to absorb spills and head lice.

The volunteers were on site for recess which for me, as a kid, was always the best part of the day. The kids played freeze tag but never stayed frozen long. They argued over who would be “it.” There is a disproportionate amount of time dedicated to the planning and execution of who will be “it,” so much so that in some circles, the game of freeze-tag is never actually played before the bell rings signifying the end of recess.

It takes skill and stamina to either outrun the person who is “it” or quickly fall to the ground feigning injury while being chased in an attempt to get out of being frozen or heaven forbid, “it.”

Who would choose the song that would appoint the person who would eventually be assigned “it?” The person who is finally, cruelly, under the most extreme set of lunch-trading circumstances assigned the role of “it” is always it. No one is ever caught as per above. Lick it. Stick it. Stamp it.

Whoever was selected to sing said song appointing “it” also chose where “T” (time-out) would be which I later learned was irrelevant as it was any time a child was within two feet of being tagged by “it.”

 There were a number of arguments over whether someone had been touched at all. If the runner was foolish enough not to be shouting “T! T! T!” in a chant the entire time they were playing the game, it was impossible to prove to the person who was it they had actually made contact with an article of clothing or skin. If skin was touched, there was an instant injury and the athlete who was now meant to be frozen was far too distraught to participate and was off to the office for ice. If clothing was touched, it was difficult to prove because without a third party witness, how would anyone know other than “it?”

How does one find a witness in a sea of children running for their lives screaming “T!!!!?”

After finally assigning a person to be it, reviewing the rules about freezing, unfreezing, being frozen, mouthing “I love you” to volunteer parents and arbitrarily appointing penalties for misusing “T” the bell had gone.

Somehow, the kids still managed numerous scuffed knees, bonked heads, inappropriate words resulting in hurt feelings and a lot of requests to ice injuries which I am coming to realize is one of the most common practices at our school during recess, even more so than perfecting the “it” assignment.

Mouthing the words “I love you” to your mother makes you invincible in freeze-tag. You can never be “it,” caught or carded for “T” indiscretions and you have unlimited access to ice.

You might however be on the receiving end of another kind of sign language from your classmates.