When I took my current job it was actually a rather quick process. I was contacted by the family who liked my profile, I skyped with the hostess not too many days later, and a week after that I found myself in their home unpacking in my little room downstairs. To be honest I decided it was best not to question how I was going to establish myself with the children...if I did, I think I might have chickened out.
Children are very canny from my experience, and are very quick to call bluff if they can see someone is not being themselves. It's like with substitute or new teachers at school. It doesn't matter how confident you are when you enter the classroom, it is how confident you are in handling the first time 'the naughty kid of the class' tests the boundaries. If you break you are done for. No respect for you because your confidence and therefore authority is a sham.
Often from what I remember is that the most successful teachers were the ones that managed to be really funny but also be kind of scary when they needed to. They hd a no shit attitude but could always deliver an excellent comeback whenever they received cheek. They always kept you on your toes, wanting to please them but also not wanting to fall under their wrath.
With this in mind I guess I am going for the 'be true to thyself attitude.' I figure that there is no way I can be the perfect playmate for 4 young boys without at some point betraying my act. I may as well be myself, never be perfect, but at least have their respect and my own?
I think this means I am just going to have to accept I will not be the most satisfying Wii Dragonballz 3 playing partner, nor a very good wii sports partner. Hopefully I can make it up with my array of random but silly stories and my rather nifty arts and crafts skills? My flexibility on the twister mat? My lego submarine/car/plane creations?
That said though any worthwhile human relationship I have learned takes time, this is normal. It is easy when we feel under pressure (particularly as I do consider myself an employee here and want to deliver my side of the bargain) to want to be best friends with the kid from the get go. I am happy to say I have had this unrealistic notion under control before I even took the job. And thankfully my prediction that the children would open up to me more if I didn't try to prize them open as if they were clams has been fulfilled. Is being fulfilled I should say, more and more each day.
At first there was a little resistance, strangely enough only really from the oldest and youngest children. The oldest was bashful and shy, and being on the cusp of adolescence is making him resentful and suspicious of any form of authority. 'Last year he was such a nice boy! I do not know what has happened!' says his loving mother. I assured her laughing that I am certain there is nothing wrong with him, he is just becoming a teenager.
At first I wasn't at all impressive to the eldest child. My first test was when I was asked by his mother to help him with the homework. He was cheeky, stubborn but also very witty. He was reluctant to be helped but I tried not to be thrown off. At one stage when I told him that he could ask me a question at anytime about english words, grammar etc he narrowed his eyes as if about to propose a challenge.
'Ok,' he said, I have a question for you...'
'Oh good! What can I help you with?!' I answered eagerly. There was a calculating pause.
'...Why must I study?' he asked.
Fortunately we were then called for dinner and I didn't have to find an answer to such a big question. He wasn't asking why does he have to do his homework, he knows he has to or he will get in trouble tomorrow with his teacher. He was asking what is the point in doing all this study, is it worth it? I would have said yes, just because that is what you should say, but to be honest in another way I was a little uncomfortable because I'm not sure I know the answer yet to that question myself.
My second test came when I was invited by the eldest to play Wii. I suck at playing Wii, just like I suck at playstation, Xbox you name it. The hardest game I have ever played is The Sims 3 PC and Age of Empires 2....I gulped but wasn't about to back down. I promptly had my ass kicked by a 12 year old boy and his 10 year old brother in about 10 rounds of DrangonBallZ 3. I suggested we change to Wii sports where hopefully playing golf or tennis I had more of a chance to prove myself to these boys, to whom skills with games are everything. Nope, I had my ass kicked again. The eldest got increasingly agitated. 'No! You have to go faster like this! See?? You are going too slow!! Noooo, not like that! This!!!' Then I realised he was trying to help me. He was a rather exaspperated teacher which made me giggle more than anything, but in a way it warmed my heart. He wanted to show me something of his he really loved. More than that he wanted me to be able to play with him.
Next time round when the second invitation came I was ready. This time in DragonBallz 3 I chose the strongest reincarnation of Vegeta, or whatever his name is, and I kicked some ass. None of this too slow stuff. I was all in there, kicking and punching and throwing big fiery balls of something at my rivals. And I won. The eldest was surprised, then annoyed and then satisfied. I was now a worthy competitor.
He then turned to a nearby computer and, opened up a library of music files, selected one and pressed play. An Italian woman began to sing with a raspy sensual voice (like a female Rod Stewart) to the sound of a full orchestra leaking with heightened emotion. I asked who the artist was. 'Mina' he replied. I was impressed and a little disconcerted by his sophisticated music taste. 'It is my father's favourite' he continued. 'So is this your favourite too?' I asked. 'Shhhhh,' he replied, 'quick, while the music is on.. Just play.' He then turned to the DragonBallZ and began pounding his opponent as the song gathered even more emotion. My heart swelled and I couldn't help smiling in amusement. He had a flair for drama and I liked that. I think this also counted as our first true bonding experience.
With the youngest boy, like all four year olds he is still very much attached to his mother and father, the gods of his little and perfect universe. Although sometimes naughty with them he is also very affectionate, smothering their face in kisses when he is in a cuddly mood. And he is a very cute cuddly little child. Even the oldest child will grab him, squeeze him and kiss him on the head when he comes home from school simply because he is so adorable. Highly aware of his cuteness the little one will squirm away or simply be indifferent, knowing there will always be hugs coming again soon. He only kisses his parents from what I have observed.
The littlest one was both curious and suspicious of me when I first arrived and I knew immediately it would take some time before he would trust me enough to prefer my company when it was available over that of his parents. Although from the start he has enjoyed playing with me, he also knew he could get away with disobeying me. When I asked him to wash his hands, as if the word was already there waiting to be spat out, he declares automatically 'Noh!.' Ok then, let's put your pyjamas on. 'Noh!' Ok...do you want to read a book before bed? A pause this time. 'NOH!' ok...we won't do those things then...usually if I wait for a minute or two then try to carry out these tasks when he is distracted looking at a picture book then I won't receive any resistance. He just likes to exercise his civil rights because he can and because I am not his mum. Fair enough, the little muffin is only 4.
We have however bonded the two of us over challenges presented to us by the dreaded bidet. Uusally when he goes to the loo he will announce his intentions loudly (Poo poo or Peee Peee) and then his mother will attend to him when he is done. One day though it was just me and the little one, I think his mother had just left to pick up on of the boys from an afternoon activity. It was just me, the little one and the bidet. I have just left the bidet alone in my own bathroom. I figure if you don't know how to use something, just don't touch it and it should all be fine. But when I walked in and reached for the toilet paper to help my little companion he squawked 'Noh!' He looked at me expectantly...then at the bidet. Perched on the toilet, legs dangling, jabbering away in Italian I could not catch he pointed wildly at a little hand towel on the rack above the bidet, then at me, then at the soap, then at the bidet. Then looked at me again, waiting. I actually had no idea what to do...I reached for the hand towel and reached towards him. 'No!!' Ok, maybe I have to wet it first..? I wet the towel but he wouldn't let it near him...I wouldn't have either actually. There was only one option left, but really? With my hand???
I picked him off the toilet, a compact little bundle,knees tucked up, little trousers still around his ankles and popped him on the bidet. I turned the tap on and that was when the real fun began. The water that came out full blast was freezing cold and he shrieked as it touched his bare skin. Panicking I tried to get it to turn to warm, but it was taking forever. He suddenly broke free of my grasp and began laughing and lurching around the bathroom with his pants around his feet. With the bidet still spurting I made to grab him but missed and fell over. He shrieked, thinking we were now playing some strange game of chase. I grabbed his ankle and as if it was one of those trust exercises you do at school camp he fell straight backwards onto me, playing ragdoll, winding me as he fell onto my stomach without warning. He roared with laughter at my 'Ooof!!!' noise. I tried reasoning with him, but couldn't get him to stand up, he was lolling all over the place now pretending to be dead, tongue sticking out and eyes rolling backwards. I inserted a bit of warning in my voice but it didn't work, I was basically laughing now too. Finally limp and floppy I managed to postion him back on the bidet and taking advantage of his ragdoll immobility began to do what I thought best and splash him with the still cold water of the bidet. He was laughing, giggling and shrieking, kicking his leg and trying to run away but finally I got him clean. Without waiting for me to dry him he leapt off the bidet, and ran away still pulling up his pants. I sat on the edge of the bath for a moment catching my breath before I was summoned to play lego. 'Andiamo!!!'
Almost certainly as a result of this experience, the little one was absolutely set against me helping him the second time his mother was out and he did a number 2. I reached to pick him up but he clenched his arms to his sides and continued to stare at the picture book he was reading on the loo, opened conveniently on a little stool in front of him. He told me in Italian that no, he wanted his mother. Fair enough. I told him that his mum might not be back for another 10 minutes. Did he want to sit on the toilet for all that time? Wouldn't he rather go and play with the lego? 'NOH!' Right...not wanting to admit defeat, I was determined to do it better this time. I waited for a moment and when he seemed sufficiently distracted I picked him up and placed him on the bidet, complete with picture book. I turned the taps on and had just begun when his Mum came through the door and saw how I was struggling. 'Oh! I am sorry! Yes you do not know how to use these do you?!' The little one on seeing his mother let out an earsplitting howl of validation. He had been right all along to refuse my help. The crazy Aussie girl has no idea how to even go to the toilet properly! I watched the mother (ahhhh, that's how they do it. Right. So simple. I am an idiot.) then backed out of the bathroom so as not to aggravate the already enraged little one.
However yesterday, my first day out of quarantine (I have been sick the past weekend and have been avoiding infecting the children by keeping to my room) something beautiful happened. Yes, I had my eye poked, was chased around the house as he peddled his bicycle, was jumped on, punched, had puzzle pieces thrown at my head, and my foot run over by a toy truck, but it was all worth it. Because I also got my first bit fat, sloppy, wet kiss on my cheek. We were playing and after a tickling session he threw his little arms around my neck and gave me a kiss. And honestly that meant the world to me.
That evening I mentioned to his mother that he seemed particularly over-excited this evening. She laughed and replied 'Yes! Because he has his Miranda back!' It never occurred to me that my absence of just three and half days would result in such rejoicing but the four boys and I really did have some good fun yesterday evening. We told riddles and joked and then played a game at the dinner table where we all have to pull silly faces and the last to laugh wins.
And after a little bit more tickling it was time for the little ones to go to bed. When I tried to put on the little one's pyjamas he still offered a 'Noh!' but it was less aggressive this time and soon after he let me dress him. After all he must maintain his civil rights, just because he can.
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