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Looking For A Poem


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I have been asked to find a specific poem but unfortunately I've not heard of it and googling has not helped this time!

It apparently has a line 'It's not the taking home that counts' and basically explains that children do not need to have an end product as it's the process that is important...

Anybody know of it???

Thanks as always!

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Might have found it after all - on another forum in the resources section. Should have known to look there first really! It doesn't have the line she said but it has the same sentiment so I'm hoping it's OK.

In case you're interested....

 

Child's play - so much to do, so little time!

 

Oh what a busy day; I've been playing with the dough

 

And with a little help, around a card, I learned to sew.

 

I helped a friend "Nurse George" to perform an operation,

 

Then fixed the track together for my train and built a station.

 

I sat on the floor with the dolls, to make a cup of tea,

 

And stood beside the cooker, making lunch for three.

 

I completed two whole jigsaws and played a colour matching game,

 

We talked about the days of the week, and I put up my name.

 

I helped to set the table when it was dinner time,

 

Then listened to a story and sang a nursery rhyme.

 

But now the day is over and our parents are all waiting,

 

I hope my daddy doesn't say "I WISH YOU'D DONE A PAINTING"

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  • 6 months later...

I know this post was put up AGES ago but whilst I was having a major sort out I found a poem we used to display for parents....

 

Childs Play

 

Please don’t expect too much of me

I am learning more than you can see

Being simply being here to enjoy and play

Means more to me than I can say

Please don’t fret at the end of the day

If I have nothing to display

I really gain so much from play

Social skills and come what may

So when I come home empty handed

From such a busy play

Please don’t say

‘Haven’t you done anything today?’

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  • 1 month later...

What did you do at nursery today, darling?

“Well I sat at the dough table and I rolled the dough in my hands. Lucy said hers was a snake but mine, mine was a worm.

The lady talked about long ones and short ones, the fat ones and the thin ones, and mummy Sarah rolled her dough so long it went right over the end of the table.”

(And nobody said, 'What are you going to make? – a cake would be nice')

 

Yes but what did you do?

“I played on the climbing frame, and do you know mummy, I can climb to the very top step”

Yes but did you do anything today?

Yes, but did you do anything today?

Sara and me went to the paint table. It was lovely, all gooey and slippery on our hands. We made lots of patterns with our fingers and elbows. Sarah had yellow paint and I had red and Mummy, do you know what, if you mix red paints and yellow paint it goes ORANGE! (And nobody said, 'What a mess you've made')

 

Yes, but what else have you done?

At milk time a big boy pushed me over and I bumped my head. The lady picked me up and loved me better and the boy even said sorry!

 

Yes but what else have you done?

“At milk time it was it was my turn to pour out the milk and give the apples out.”

 

And then did you do anything?

The lady sang a new song and I can remember it, it was about your fingers, thumbs and toes.

 

But, did you do anything today?

I made a lovely traily pattern in the sand and then Sara and me had a race to see who could put the sand in the sand-wheel quickest

 

But then did you do anything?

“At story time I was so tired so I sat on the lady’s lap and the story was about a caterpillar-and do you know mummy, that caterpillars turn into beautiful butterflies!

 

So did you do anything today?

“We sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Nicholas and counted the candles on his cake.”

 

But did you do anything today?

Yes, when the lady said it was time to tidy up I quickly painted you a picture cos I knew you would say,

 

“What did you do at nursery today?”

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  • 1 month later...

When looking at the SEAD resource for another thread, I noticed this and it really made me think.

 

A People Place

 

If this is not the place where tears are understood, where do I go to cry?

If this is not a place where my spirits can take wing, where do I go to fly?

If this is not a place where my questions can be asked, where do I go to seek?

If this is not a place where my feelings can be heard, where do I go to speak?

If this is not a place where you’ll accept me as I am, where can I go to be?

If this is not a place where I can try to and learn to grow, where can I just be me?

 

William J. Crocker

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