Last Sunday, as part of my lesson, I gave each of the kids in my class a little baggie containing a glob of playdough and asked them to create a farm animal from it. As I made the playdough at home earlier that morning I remember looking at how white it was and wondering if I should give it a tint of color - perhaps yellow or green? - but I ultimately decided that it would be best to leave it neutral so they wouldn't mold their globs into animals based on a specific color. (It didn't matter, by the way. The boys all made snakes and the girls mostly made cats.)
After a few attempts to eat or at least lick their little globs of dough, I had them put their baggies beneath their chairs.
At the end of the lesson, being the awesome teacher that I am, I let the kids take the playdough home.
Later, I received this email from one of my kids' parents:
So as we were walking home from primary, M. was proudly showing me her "dough." I said, "oh, that's so nice! Playdough!" And she said, "No mom, it's not playdough. It's dough!" I smiled and thought nothing of it.
We got in the door and about 15 minutes into making lunch M. announced that she was supposed to make a pizza with the dough. So I changed my assumptions... you must have given them some dough to make something at home. What a great idea! OK, fine. Go ahead and make a pizza.
I preheated the oven and the kids had a grand old time rolling out the "dough" on a baking sheet. I gave M. sauce to spread, and cheese, and put it in the oven to bake. 10 minutes later I took it out, got the "pizza" off the pan, and put it on M.'s plate, instructing her to share a little bit with her sisters.
I tasted a little glob of crust which had stuck to the pan.
I'm sure you know the rest.... :)
J and I were laughing so hard. I laughed so hard I cried. Anyway... thank you for the playdough! I should have tasted it before we even started.
Maybe I should have gone with purple?