This story is about mathematics and Valentine’s Day.  It is a saga of my youth as I look back at it, much older and a little bit wiser.  I taught Kindergarten.  Back in those days, Kindergarten was half a day for each session.  I had 32 kids in each.  The first year of teaching was challenging for me.  One of my kids pulled the fire alarm on the first day.  A girl brushed her teeth with purple tempra paint. I tried to make lemon lollipops for the letter L day, and it went to hard boil and I ran to the sink to run water on it.  It solidified in my big spaghetti pot with a spoon stuck upright in the middle.  But, the Valentine’s Day party that year was just another learning experience for me, not the kids.

I  worked overtime to do the right things.  I sent a newsletter home to the kids’ parents.  It included a list of the names of all of my morning and afternoon students, to help kids to have their parents write names on the valentine’s cards. It was a major error on my part.

Little did I know, when I arrived at school in a red sweater with a cute heart locket dangling above my rapidly beating heart, what was in store for me that day.  I had bags of candy, cupcakes, fruit punch, decorations galore.  The kids made their own place mats with sticker hearts.  There were zany heart-shaped paper people twirling in the air in the overheated room.  Each of my 64 students had decorated a paper bag to hold their Valentines. I felt smug, and so organized.

Mayhem moved in on the morning.  Thirty two kids arrived, each with thirty-two addressed Valentines cards.  They also included a card for me, as I had addressed a card for each of them.  Those of you who were math majors in grade 10 already see the issue.  But, I casually had the kids’ group time that morning by doing the calendar, reading a book about love, etc.  It did not occur to me that except for one child in each class, the remaining 31 could not read a word.

The kids were excited as the heart people twirled in the air currents and of course one threw up. I asked the kids if any of them could match the names written on their envelopes with the names (written by the kids) on their mail bags.  No one, except for one, raised a hand.  I wildly looked at the clock and began to sweat in buckets.  I had just about one hour to pass out 1,024 Valentine cards.  I wore heels back then, and I was running.  The kids could hand out treats on each place mat. The mats were heaped with sugar and there was way too much of a good thing going on.

My place mat on my desk was also loaded.  I began to eat cupcakes and candy as I ran past my desk, and I slurped down red punch.  The clock hands raced.  I had delivered only five sets of cards in an hour.  I dug in my purse and paid the child who could read twenty dollars to help me out.  Meanwhile the students were going into glucose shock  They were noisy and rowdy.  It was the kindergarten version of a frat party.  My own blood sugar soared. I sweat bullets and ran like a chicken with its head cut off.  I matched names to each bag with my little helper.  Oh, I could have at least sat at a table to sort through thirty-three cards in piles.  It did not occur to me.  I have no idea how the kids celebrated.  It sounded like they were having several holidays at once that day.

I passed out valentines even as the bell rang signaling the children to get on their coats and get on the bus.  My hair was a wild mop, my pulse raced from all the sugar I had eaten, and I snagged my sweater on the corner of a locker.  I sweated like a race horse at the Kentucky Derby.  Nausea came in waves from all I had eaten before noon.  I gave each child a hug as they boarded the bus.

Then I went into the teacher’s lounge and threw up a colorful slew into the waste basket.

“Ah!” a more experienced teacher said to me:  “You had non-readers (parents) address their valentine cards.”

“Yes.” I said, weakly.

“You won’t do that again, will you?”  another teacher said.

“Yes, I have to do it again.”  I cried.  “I have another 32 children coming in with addressed cards this afternoon.”

If memory serves me, I think I gave up and let the afternoon students pass out their cards to be best of their inability.  I ate four more cupcakes and a handful of candy hearts and dearly wished that the fruit punch was spiked.  I did not have a room mother, and my brain was saturated as I looked at the spilled red punch, the forgotten candy and cupcakes, the mess on the floor ground into the carpet. I do remember that I threw some cards out during the last moments of class.  The kids were happy and riled up as they got on the bus.  The other two classes of kindergarten were clean, well-mannered, and quiet. My students were not.  It was a lesson learned that year and I wanted to share it so the one new teacher out of thousands will not do the same this year.

Happy Valentine’s Day!