James and the Giant Pacifier

Today I taught a child who kept a pacifier in his mouth the entire day. His name was James, and he was barely 3. He wailed when I tugged at it after putting on his helmet, and, well, it just didn't seem worth the fight. Between the crying, the pacifier, and the baby-slurring, I didn't even realize he was speaking with an English accent until two hours into the day!
Read the rest...
James would attach himself to someone and then not let that person out of his sight. When I learned that he was in my class, I weaned him away from the leg of my predecessor and from then on he was mine. I could not go and get my own lunch without him. I could not get him to go into the men's bathroom without me. What is so ironic, though, is that he was by far the best skier in my Level 2 class.

He got tired before lunch and at the end of the day and, whimpering, would become even more clingy. If I spent more than 3 minutes calming him down, though, I was neglecting to teach my other four 3 and 4-year-olds, so he would wail at the top of the hill, pacifier hanging half out of his mouth, snot running out of his nose, while I took the other kids down the hill between his turns. At the end of the day, he was the third one down the hill. I took his skis off and told him to wait at the bottom with the other two while I got the other kids down for their final run. It was wishful thinking. He followed me a few steps up the hill crying. I told him I had two more trips up and down the bunny hill and I wasn't carrying him. If he wanted to stay with me, he would have to walk up himself. So I turned around and kept going. Sure enough, James followed, still crying, pacifier still hanging there loosely through the open mouth, snot again dripping. He made it halfway up before realizing it was a very long way to the top for such tiny legs. He looked around and noticed a little green flag stuck in the snow. It was one of those flags utilities use to mark underground pipes in your lawn, the ones that were so much fun to pull out when you were a child, and he had been turning around it like an expert not more than 5 minutes prior. He stopped crying. He snatched the flag from the snow, and, standing in the middle of the bunny hill, started waving it high above his head.

Meanwhile, a class of 5 and 6-year-olds were using that flag and its compatriots to practice turning. Their instructor, standing just above James but with his back to him, beckoned a little girl down around the flags- Turn around that one, Maggie. Good! Now around the next flag, Maggie. Good! Now around... (he turned and saw a potentially bad situation)... ummm... the little boy, Maggie. Excellent!

And so it went. I got my other two kids down and James, pacifier and all, was used as a turning device. I see perhaps a career in air traffic controlling?

(A few side notes.
One: Having a 3-year-old child with a pacifier in your class certainly elicits a lot more sympathy from random adults on the ski hill than having a 3-year-old child without one.
Two: One of the other boys in the class said that today was his "bestestest day ever". If he can say that when his instructor was dealing with James, then I would say his instructor was doing alright.
Three: Just for my own defense, I was fairly adept at getting the kid to stop crying, basically by telling him that crying was not an option right now. However, at the aforementioned "tired" times, it was beyond my 3-minute time limit.)