The Farmer in the Dell: A lesson in terror

The farmer in the dell, the farmer in the dell, hi-ho, the derry-o, the farmer in the dell. The farmer takes a wife, wife takes a child, child takes a nurse, and on and on it goes. If you haven't heard it before, I'm pretty sure you live in a cave.

I love this nursery rhyme. So I was excited to find it was something the preschool teachers used in the classroom as a group activity.

Imagine all the little boys and girls, standing in a giant circle, patiently waiting to see who the teacher picks to be the farmer -- every child wants to be the farmer. The farmer-child runs to the center of the circle. That child is now responsible for picking a wife (gender roles really have no purpose here and the kids, being kids, ignore them). Some kids immediately pick their best friend while others, turn slowly, surveying the entire circle before then selecting their best friend.  Slowly the middle of the circle fills up with children. Child, nurse, cow, dog, cat, rat. Until we arrive at the end with the selection of the cheese. As everyone knows, the cheese stands alone. The child who is selected to be the cheese gets the whole circle, alone. As the cheese. Standing alone. Pretty cool classroom activity. Or is it?

One afternoon I was driving the kids (what a surprise, right) to some activity when I started singing it, Emma joined in immediately. Dylan did not; he said "I hate that song". So me, being the sensitive and loving mother that I am, say "How could you hate this song, it's awesome!" Dylan replied "It's a stupid song."

So now my spidey-sense is tingling and I'm going to get to the bottom of this. What, it's boring chauffering kids around. I need entertainment too! Don't judge me.

After a series of probing questions about wives, nurses and rats, Dylan finally blurts out, crying: "I hate being the cheese! Everyone leaves the cheese! The cheese has no friends!" I have, gentle reader, stumbled on a deep psychological trauma suffered by my eldest child that I, unwittingly, had made worse. Oops!

Now being from a large and crazy family, I envy the cheese and it's standing alone. But this story's not about me, is it?

After I talk him in off the ledge, I get to the bottom of it.  Two years before at preschool, Dylan had been selected as the cheese. He ran, triumphant, into the center of the circle to be embraced by those lucky enough to be selected, only to be abandoned by his peers and made to stand in the center of the circle, alone. As cheese. Standing alone. Hi, ho, the derry-o motherfucker...

He can laugh about it now, but the laughter doesn't reach his eyes.

I asked for, and received, his permission to relay his story in the hopes that he can save another child from senseless nursey-rhyme induced terror.  Listen, parents and caregivers, really listen to some of the songs we encourage our children to sing.