Student teaching is like an audition, a constant job evaluation, organized chaos, and being thrown into the deep end without a life jacket and learning to swim. At least that was my experience. I found out part way through my time in the classroom that my student teaching adviser had placed me in that classroom because the teachers were struggling to maintain any semblance of control and were on the edge of a three year old version of "Lord of the Flies". While I greatly appreciated her faith in me as a student to be able to make a difference and even help the real teacher figure things out, a little warning would have been appreciated. And combat gear. More on that aspect another time.
Little children can sense what I lovingly call "fresh meat", someone new to their environment who may or may not play by the same rules that the other adults in their environment enforce. I was "fresh meat" and every single child in that class smelled it the minute I walked in the door, and within the first three days of student teaching each and every one of them tested me individually to see where my boundaries were and if I actually followed through on consequences. That was like enduring 12 midterm exams that are not graded on a curve, they are pass or fail, while trying to dance a highly orchestrated ballet in tap shoes blind folded. Peabody College may have been looked down on by the Arts and Sciences students, with the phrase "those who can do, those who can't teach" often heard, but I dare them to survive a day in an inclusive preschool classroom.
My favorite test came from a very well mannered little girl with deep brown eyes and a tender heart overflowing with love. However, she still felt the need to see if I was serious or if I could be manipulated. We ate "family style" which meant that we corralled all 12 children at two tables and passed dishes of food (teacher's serving, we do have boundaries for hygiene) and shared a meal. I had finished setting the table with "help" from two other students and helped guide each child through the handwashing process. Jasmine was the only one left who had not washed her hands, and she was intently sitting in front of the computer playing some alphabet game. The following conversation occurred.

Me: "Jasmine, it is time for lunch. Come wash your hands and sit down at the table."
Jasmine: "No, I am on the computer."
Me:"Computer time is over. It is time for lunch. Wash your hands please."
Jasmine: "No, I don't want to."
Me: "Your choice is to wash your hands by yourself, or I can help you. It is lunch time. What is your choice?"
Jasmine: "To play the computer."
Me: [I walk over to the computer and pull the power cord out of the wall, ending all computer games] "Computer time is over. So can you wash your hands by yourself or do you need help?"
Jasmine: [Her eyes grow huge at the fact that I calmly reached behind the computer and actually unplugged it from the wall. She was expecting a back and forth exchange of turning it on and off with the power button.] "Uh, um..."
Me: "Thank you for making the right choice. When you are done washing your hands, please sit down with your friends so we can have lunch.
Jasmine: "Okay."
Me: "Thanks Jazzy! We would have really missed you at our table!!"

I passed the test, and she never challenged me again. Now the number of thoughts firing through my brain during this exchange, which lasted at most 2 minutes (with time for her to make her choices), was astronomical. My poor brain was firing thoughts so rapidly that it began to fire protests back, basically random jolts of "you are in over your head" and "ouch, thinking hurts!". Jasmine was the first child to out and out test me, and so I was nervous - it was a test not just to earn her trust, but a test of much greater importance. If I failed, if I could not enforce a behavior in a three year old, then I was in for a very long, hard learning curve. Passing that test was the first hurdle, and it was the reassurance that I could do this. Thank God I did not have a crystal ball or I may have fled that room and never returned. :)