the preks


Nuk e kuptoj dmth friken e ktyre shqipove nga lezbiket , gayt apo trans duke cituar shprehje si : erdhi fundi botes, ku jetojme etj etj. Po t qr , ti qe jeton dite per dite ne llum, vjedhje , korrupsion, qe udhehiqesh nga disa politikane si dele, qe hedh nanj skedin e ha ndonje byrek ca po ben per vendin tend pervecse harxhon oksigjen? Apo fundi botes vjen thjesht nga orientimi seksual i dikujt qe ty ste prek fare? Ti rron dot ne ter keto padrejtesi qe behen dita dites dhe nuk duron dot dy njerez qe duhen dhe qe jan ndryshe nga ty ? Je thjesht vks

Getting ready for the little one’s week off of school! Just because he’s not in pre-k for the week doesn’t mean I am letting him slack off. :)

He has learned his letters and asks me all the time how to spell things. He loves it. So, I made an easy “game” (if I call it a game, he will do it. Obviously) where he finds the clothespins with the matching letters to form various words. I included a picture so he would be able to identify what the word is that he is spelling.


A Cambodian soldier carries a machine gun alongside her comrades during the Vietnam War. This photo was taken on 26th August 1970 in the Prek Tamak region of Cambodia, where heavy fighting took place between Cambodian forces and the Viet Cong. Many young women served as soldiers and medics in the rapidly expanded Cambodian army during this time.

Preschool years are not only optimal for children to learn through play, but also a critical developmental period. If children are not given enough natural movement and play experiences, they start their academic careers with a disadvantage. They are more likely to be clumsy, have difficulty paying attention, trouble controlling their emotions, utilize poor problem-solving methods, and demonstrate difficulties with social interactions. We are consistently seeing sensory, motor, and cognitive issues pop up more and more  in later childhood, partly because of inadequate opportunities to move and play at an early age.
School Daze

Originally posted by camwelgrace

Steve Rogers x Reader

School Daze

Prompt: I was hoping you might write one with the reader working in a prek kindergarten setting and Steve (close friends) is asked to come talk w/kids. His and her interactions w/kids makes them fall for eachother more? I love your stories!!

Note: Aww, thank you so much! This is such a cute prompt omg. Turned out much longer than I had intented, but oh well. I love it.

Warnings: None?

It was a nice sunny Wednesday afternoon. You were at Midtown Elementary, waiting for the kids to get back from recess. You were also waiting for Steve Rogers, your close family friend, to arrive. He was going to talk to your kindergarteners today.

You had met Steve a few years before. You had been working as a S.H.I.E.L.D. instructor then. He had been introduced to you early on, due to the fact that you were Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan’s favorite granddaughter. Since S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen, you worked here, with the potentially Gifted children.

You hung up a few more messy crayon drawings of Captain America on the wall and wrote on the board ‘Welcome, Captain Rogers!’

“Need any help?” Steve asked, walking into the room. He smiled at the little crayon drawings and your sketch of his shield on the board.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Thank you, Captain Rogers.”

“(Y/N), you can call me Steve,”

“Okay, Steve,” you smiled. He walked to the front of the room and leaned his shield against the wall. You hadn’t expected him to come in full uniform, but he had. The kids were going to love this. Living in New York, they idolized the Avengers.

“Is the costume too much?” he asked, looking down at his ensemble.

“Oh no, it’s perfect,” you assured him. “The kids will love it.”

“Is it a lot different than working…where you used to?”

“A bit. But I love it. I can already tell some of them are more than meets the eye. Gifteds, Mutants, whatever you want to call it.”

“So there are some future Avengers in here, huh?”

“I certainly think so,” You nodded, sitting in the chair behind your desk. You pulled a rather large card out of the top desk drawer and handed it to him. “The kids made this for you and the others.”

“Aww thanks,” he smiled, reading it. You heard the sound of footsteps and talking and laughing coming down the hall as the recess attendant escorted them back to class. They rushed to their seats excitedly, bouncing off of the walls with energy.

“Class, what do we say to Captain Rogers?” You asked once you had their attention.

“Welcome, Captain Rogers!” they shouted, bright smiles lighting up their faces.

“Thank you,” Steve smiled, looking at all of their small faces. “If it’s okay with Ms. (L/N), I brought a book to read,”

“Yay!” they shouted, rushing to sit on the floor in front of him, as they usually did when you read to him. You watched them, smiling as Steve read a book about superheroes to the group of kids.

Steve chuckled softly at their amazed expressions. He loved kids. After all, they were the future of America. He remembered when he had been that small, when he and Bucky would play on the playground together and color pictures of airplanes and houses.

You couldn’t help but smile as he answered their precious little questions. And then one came that you wouldn’t soon forget.

“Captain Rogers,” asked a precious little girl named Sadie. Her blonde hair was pulled into two curly little pigtails. “Are you Ms. (L/N)’s boyfriend?”

Your cheeks burned bright red. Steve laughed nervously, blushing just as much, if not more, than you were.

“Well,” Steve struggled to answer, not daring to glance over at you. “Ms. (L/N) and I are very close friends. Her grandfather fought with me in the army back in World War II.”

“I think Ms. (L/N) would be your girlfriend if you asked her very, very nicely,” said Thomas, a little boy in the back of the group. “She talks about you all the time.”

Your cheeks burned, but you stood up from your chair and held up a stack of coloring pages.

“Okay kids, let’s color some nice pictures for Captain Rogers and the Avengers, okay?” You said. They rushed back to their chairs and got out their crayons. Steve helped you pass out the papers and then met you at the back of the room.

“(Y/N), if you don’t have any plans later after school gets out, maybe I could show you around the new Facility?” Steve offered after a long silence. “It’s certainly a lot different from S.H.I.E.L.D. was.”

“I’d like that.” You smiled. “School gets out at 2:00. I just have to pack up my stuff and then we can head out.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

'You look like a tiger!'

Extremely Rude Classmate: Mary

Lisa: Mary’s friend

Jake: Lisa’s boyfriend and Mary’s friend.

*names have been changed

(Admin might want to tag warnings for self harm!)

While this may not be a story about a complete weaboo, I feel like it belongs on this blog. 

To set the scene, I go to a very small school. Like, 70 kids per grade. Pretty much all of the students have been going to it since preK, and I know everyone.

And there’s this girl. Many years ago in elementary school,  I bullied her because I was a little brat. I’ve always felt bad for it, even without vocalizing it. She looks like any average girl, stringy brown hair, slightly overweight,  too tight band tshirts. 

We don’t have any classes together except for seventh period math.At the beginning of last quarter, we were assigned new seats and I ended up way in the back in a table with just Mary and I. I didn’t have any problem with her, there are only two or three girls I know that I actively dislike, since I’m a big advocate for girl solidarity.

The first couple days were uneventful,  but then I came into class one day wearing a sweater that tended to slide off my shoulder.

Keep reading

Znam da smo sjebani, u redu? Nagao sam i prek, a ti si mi se uvukla pod kožu kao niko pre. Jednog trenutka se ponašaš kao da me mrziš, a sledećeg sam ti potreban. Nikad ništa ne uradim dobro i ne zaslužujem te… ali jebeno te volim. Volim te više nego što sam voleo ikoga u životu. Kad si pored mene, nije mi potrebno ni piće, ni novac, ni borbe, niti seks za jednu noć… potrebna si mi samo ti. Samo na tebe mislim. Samo tebe sanjam. Samo tebe želim.
—  Prava propast - Džejmi Makgvajer

Annnnddddd the final installment of the Elementary School Teachers AU! Once again. ruthedotcom does not know the context of what she is drawing. Sorry not sorry Ruth ♥

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Six months. Six months of stolen kisses in the break room, the occasional double date with their respective best friends, and countless inquiries from small children (the best of which, Jemma was fairly positive, was when one of the five year-old’s asked if Mr. Fitz kept his face ‘prickly’ because that’s what happens to boys when they have a girlfriend. Fitz took this as a sign he should shave. Jemma told him not to). A summer of working together on articles about classroom learning techniques and marathoning Doctor Who. Getting Jemma’s science classroom ready and preparing for new students. And, of course, co-babysitting, from time to time. 

Yes, Jemma had never been happier, she thought, daydreaming while she cleaned up after a thrilling (and messy) class that involved both first graders and earthworms. 

Which was when Skye barreled into the room. “I’ve decided to marry Trip,” she announced. 

“Antoine Triplett? I thought you were getting married to Grant Ward?” Jemma asked. 

Skye shook her head. “It turns out he has cooties. But Trip loves me. And he gave me pink flowers.”

Jemma looked over from her desk. The little girl was simply nodding, as though what she said was a big deal. 

“Pink flowers means you are engaged.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Jemma said, trying to keep her tone serious. “It must be an American custom.”

Skye nodded. “They were for pretend. Cause only grownups give each other real flowers and get married for serious,” she paused. “What was it like when you got married to Mr. Fitz?”

Jemma practically choked. “We arent. Skye, sweetheart, we’ve only been dating for six months. We aren’t married. Not even engaged.” 

Skye thought about this for a moment. “You mean, Mr. Fitz hasn’t given you pink flowers yet?”

“Definitely not.” 

Skye’s little brow furrowed, as though she was thinking this over, before heading straight out of the room. And walking to Fitz’ class. 

“Mr. Fitz,” she started. “I need to teach you about flowers.”

Keep reading