Page 7 of The Orc's Protection
“We can still have fun inside,” I promise, already mentally rearranging the day’s schedule. “Let’s finish our math centers, then we’ll have some special movement games.”
As they reluctantly return to their counting activities, I glance toward the door where Vraag has been standing for the past hour. Just a few days into his assignment at our school, and he’s already become a fixture in my classroom.
Vraag meets my gaze, and I realize I’ve been staring. He raises one eyebrow slightly in question.
“I’ve decided to have indoor recess because of the rain.”
He processes this information with his usual seriousness. “Confined space. Increased activity. Potential security challenge.”
I bite back a smile. “That’s one way to put it. I call it organized chaos.”
“Organized chaos,” he repeats, as if adding the term to his mental vocabulary.
I turn back to my students and circulate through the math centers. I'm aware of him without needing to look—which is its own small problem I've decided not to examine before noon.
By the time we’ve finished math centers, the rain has intensified. Sheets of water cascade down the windows as distant thunder rumbles. Perfect weather for a nap, not for containing twenty-three energetic kindergartners.
“Alright, friends! Circle time!” I announce with forced enthusiasm. “We’re going to play some movement games.”
As they scamper to the carpet, I notice Vraag shifting his position, moving to the wider side of the room. He’s anticipating their need for space, another example of his surprisingly astute understanding of classroom dynamics.
“First game is Simon Says,” I explain once they’re seated. “Remember, you only follow the direction if I say ‘Simon says’ first.”
We begin with simple commands: touch your nose, pat your head, stand on one foot. The children giggle as they follow along, their earlier disappointment forgotten.
“Simon says touch your toes!” I watch as twenty-three little bodies bend forward.
“Simon says hop like a bunny!” Giggles erupt as they bounce around.
“Simon says freeze like a statue!” Everyone goes still, some in comically awkward positions.
“Clap your hands!” I call out without the crucial prefix.
Five children immediately clap before realizing their mistake. The rest grin triumphantly at avoiding the trap.
“Ohhh!” Tyler groans dramatically. “I forgot to listen!”
“Simon says… look at Mr. Vraag!”
Twenty-three heads swivel toward him in perfect unison. He stiffens slightly, clearly not expecting to become part of the activity.
“Simon says… wave to Mr. Vraag!”
Small hands enthusiastically flap in his direction. He goes very still for a moment, watching them.
“Simon says… show Mr. Vraag your scariest monster face!”
The children contort their features into exaggerated growls and grimaces. To my delight, Vraag responds with a solemn nod of assessment.
“Acceptable intimidation tactics,” he comments, loud enough for them to hear. “Though stance improvement would increase effectiveness.”
The children dissolve into giggles, thrilled by his participation. Emboldened, I continue.
“Simon says… ask Mr. Vraag to play with us!”
“Play with us, Mr. Vraag!” they chorus, bouncing with excitement.
I turn to him with my best innocent smile. “Simon says, Mr. Vraag play with us.”
