Wednesday, January 26, 2011

What a Week…and It’s only Wednesday!

Testing is done…for now anyway.  Yay!  I admit I was still feeling a little bit of residual frustration with the whole process.  Then the following little ditties happened and I fell in love with my job, and my kiddos, all over again (you’d be surprised how often this happens).

Monday:  It’s recess time and I have the last straggler (we’ll call him Kaden) in my room finishing up his work.  This is my 11th year of teaching, which means my body is programmed to go to the bathroom at approximately every Monday through Friday.  Seriously, we’re talking clockwork here, people. 

Speaking of clocks, it’s getting dangerously close to so I say:
“Okey dokey, Kaden, let’s get ‘er done, I have to go to the bathroom.”

And he says, in a voice full of 6-year-old disdain (can 6-year-olds even do disdain…probably not…but his tone clearly indicates that he thinks he is superior to me). 

Anyway, Kaden says:

“Well, I usually just wait ‘til the end of the day to go to the bathroom.”

No wonder that kid can’t sit still!  Wait a minute…if he waits until the end of the day, as he alleges, then why does he ask to go to the bathroom so many times during the day?  Hmm…something’s not quite right here, folks, but you know what?  I don’t have time to figure it out.  It’s ! 

Tuesday:  Lunch in the cafeteria is hamburgers, and as we’re lining up one of my cutie pies (let's call him Corey) says:

"Mrs. J., I got a question about the hamburgers.  Do they come with cheese in them?"

Me:  "Um, I don't think so sweetie.  The menu says hamburgers, not cheeseburgers."

Corey:  "That's okay, I brought my own cheese just in case."

He marches over to his backpack, pulls out a piece of cheese, displays it proudly and says, "See, I brought my own cheese."

I'm speechless. 

10 seconds later

Corey:  "Mrs. J., I got another question about the hamburgers.  Do they have ham in them?"

Me: "Um, no, hon, hamburgers are made from beef, not ham."

Corey:  "Oh, you mean like taco meat?"
(Good grief, I don't know what kind of meat his mom uses for her tacos!)

He’s obviously a picky eater if he’s bringing his own cheese so I say, "Yes, Corey, it’s exactly like taco meat."
Today:  So we’re back to Kaden.    
It’s reading group time and, as I do practically every 30 seconds, I quickly scan the room to make sure everyone’s on task.  I notice that Kaden is full-on under his desk.  Well, his bottom’s still in his chair but his head is practically in his lap and I see scissors!  Not good!  (How he could even make his body fit under there like that is beyond me…oh, to be young and limber again.)  But wait, back to the scissors… whatever it is that he’s cutting, he clearly doesn’t want anyone to see.  Double not good!
Me:  “Kaden, come here, please…with your scissors.”
Me again:  “What are you cutting?”

Kaden (very nonchalantly): “Oh, I’ve got this dead skin on my lip….”
I don’t even let him finish his sentence.  In my head I’m going, ‘NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!  EW, EW, EW, EW, EWWWWW!!!!!!’
I calmly take his scissors and he tromps on back to his seat. 

Do I dare ask what tomorrow will bring?  One thing's for'll be funny!

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