09/18/2010

Emptiness will no longer suffice.  No longer necessitate thought or function.  So instead of dwelling upon the empty and the ache I offer laughter. 

The first of my school year anectdotal entries.   Enjoy!

Children are cutting with scissors, we have discussed how important it is to be careful whilst cut so that we do not hurt ourselves. I overhear one table discussing this in further detail. "Ya because if you aren’t careful, you’ll cut your finger off!"

"I know, and then you have to go to the HOSPITAL.  And if you go to the hospital you have to go to HEAVEN."

A few minutes later I observe the child who made the latter comment very seriously cotemplating something in his lap.  Upon closer inspection it is noted that he has his finger between the blades of his scissors and is serioius considering whether or not to cut.  I called out his first and last name, he jumped and said," OH! I thought you were my mom!"

Our class is walking to the bathroom.  I observe one little (who happens to have speech impediments) digging around in his nether regions.  This is really rather common for five year old males, so I simply called out to him to put on his "Cub Hug and Bubble".  He responds by telling me why he is digging around down there, but I cannot understand him.  So I ask him to repeat himself.  At which point he raises his voice and calls out "It’s just that my underwear sometimes hurts my penis!"  I took a deep breath, told him to fix it in the bathroom and turned around trying not to laugh.  I would like to point out that as he said this we were walking right past the front office and the lobby.  Perfect timing, indeed.

Recess duty:

Child comes up to me screaming and crying.  He is trailed by a pack of 5-6 boys.  Child is repeatedly yelling, "I’m going to tell on you!" all the other children are denying any wrong doing, "Nuh uh Ms. A we didn’t do anything!  Its jus that he didn’t win the race!"  The child corroborates the story, "I Didn’t Win!" tears are still flowing.  I responded by telling him it was a race, and that races were supposed to be fun. He didn’t need to cry over a race and if racing was going to make him cry he probably didn’t need to race.  He nodded a few times, turned off his tears and they all set off to race again.  He runs after them calling out, "GUYS!  I said I wanted to be in the Front!"  I laughed so hard I almost cried.  Luckily he couldn’t hear me.  I don’t think he quite understands how a race works.

Bus duty:

There is one little angel who struggles with keeping himself to himself and so is my special bus buddy every day.  He shadows me down to buses. One day as we are all filing out I called him to come join us.  No response.  I tried twice more and still got no response.  With a fair bit of irritation and authority in my voice I called him again.  He came, reluctantly, and after taking my hand informed me that he had changed his name.  I asked him what his name was now.  He responded, very seriously, "Tiffany". 

"Ok, Tiffany, let’s go."

"Ms. A."

"Yes, Tiffany?"

"Tiffany is a girl’s name"

"Yes, yes it is."