Herding children is a lot like herding cats

Recess on the playground of the Kindergarten, First & Second graders. We’re surrounded by expanses of a snowy winter wonderland. The play equipment that is usually strung with screeching monkeys is virtually empty. The slides, swings & tunnels are now occupied by the quietest kids. Despite the freedom of “Muahahahahaha…it’s all mine!” I would think it’s still a little unsettling having the place all to themselves. And boring.
Meanwhile, back on the range, three quarters of the kids have left the confines of the play equipment and ventured out into the fields of snow and the snow covered blacktop. Toys of choice: snow shovels (big ticket item), sand shovels & pails, their mitten covered hands. There were groups of kids making huge snowballs or adding to the ones from previous classes, piling snow up into random mounds, trying to make snow castles, snow angels, pushing the shovels around making trails on the blacktop and attempting snow football. It was so cool watching the kids just being kids. No toys and basic toys. Kids don’t need a lot when it comes right down to it.
So as I stood outside during the recesses, basking in the beautiful cold winter day I noticed two things. I hadn’t heard a lot of, “Teacher…so-and-so told me I can’t be blah-blah’s friend and she was my friend first.” (because Norman Rockwell wouldn’t have put that in this picture) and with the wide expanse of children all around me, it felt like I was in the middle of this commercial:

If I had put a big empty box on the playground I definitely would have caught a few

The sounds of playground ruckus & the fierceness that comes with it