by Ruffian
Mama always said there’d be days like this. She would know; she’s been teaching for over 30 years. I’ve only been doing this for three months, so I suppose I should just sit back and enjoy the ride…
Just before our reading lesson, I went to take a drink from my water bottle. I was bringing the bottle up to my lips only to discover that over the weekend, a small arachnid had made the cap its well furnished home. I felt a strong wave of nausea roll through my innards, but managed to throw the bottle away and continue the lesson without disruption.
In the middle of our reading lesson, the Parent-Faculty Organization representative buzzed all the rooms to announce everyone was to attend an assembly at 10:00am—that’s in fifteen minutes. Goodbye reading lesson.
My "challenging" student, Joseph, complained of a stomachache. A little apprehensive (the kid did like to avoid schoolwork), I sent him to the nurse station. His temperature was normal; he just rested and came back, and I marked it up to "one of those things."
Another little boy, who relished sharpening his pencil to a really, really sharp point, fell after doing so, stabbed his hand, and bled everywhere. Stunned, he studied his injury and the flowing blood, and then shook his hand like a cat—sending droplets of blood everywhere before I stopped him. Fortunately, the pencil lead didn’t break off in his hand. The nurse station cleaned and bandaged the wound; the droplets were wiped up to remove the hazardous waste risk, and The Day went on.
After lunch, my students rushed through a paper flag, hat, and room decoration for tomorrow's Patriotic Assembly. Goodbye story time and center time. This was, of course, my fault. As a new teacher, this timing thing was proving to be a bit more precarious than I had originally thought. Why didn’t they tell me that in my methodology courses?
My little hypochondriac conned another recess duty teacher with her infamous fake twisted ankle. She missed half of our craft time, came back and complained to me once, then gave up. (She's learned I don't buy it.) Of course, it didn’t help her story that she came up to me hopping on her left foot—then returned to her desk hopping on her right.
The rehearsal for the Patriotic Assembly that we had after craft time went way longer than expected, ate up the extra recess time I had promised them, and gave me five minutes to get homework folders, the Student of the Week award, and fundraiser packets passed out. We ended up leaving five minutes late.
And the grand pooh-bah...
Joseph again claimed of a stomachache during all of this last minute hubbub, this time through tears whimpering he was going to get sick. I sent him on his way, telling him to run to the bathroom...he opened the classroom door, went two feet, and threw up all over the sidewalk smack in front of our room entrance.
Note to self: He is not a hypochondriac. Thank God for gracious custodians.
Oh yes, and did I mention I couldn't buzz the office to send someone down to clean it up because the pull-cord broke off in my hand?