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>This blog is largely about my work, but right now I need to shout from the rooftops: I have officially made profit with my pecans!! Okay, okay, 9 dollars is usually an HOURLY wage, but hey. Because this is the first year, and I had PLANNED to screw up over and over again, I’m just glad that I’ve not had to sell the property or any kidneys due to poor business choices such as these:
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My favorite 4th grader told me today that he prank called a “white girl” and told her that she won Justin Beiber tickets. According to him, “they were all screaming, even the grandma was screaming!”
I can’t speak for all white girls, but THIS one would be screaming in fear. And running far, far away.
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>We have a kid who is supposed to be starting ADHD meds at lunchtime. Apparently, the family has had the prescription for over a week, and haven’t had it filled.
Exasperated Teacher (ET): Do you have the prescription??
Energetic Child (EC): uhhhhh…. yeah…..
ET: Well, did your mom take it to get filled?
EC: Yes. We took it to walgreens and they said it would take 9days.
ET [smiling now]: Oh really? That’s funny. They usually can get it done in a day.
EC: Oh yeah. They said 9 hours. It should be ready today.
In this case, the difference between 9 days and 9 hours is muchmuch more than the actual time. It works kind of like dog years. The teacher has aged approximately 9years for the 9days gone without medicine. On a personal note, I’m not keen on medicating every rambunctious child that walks in the door. I can say with certainty that some kids really benefit from the added help… some kids forget their meds and actually behave BETTER. Really, who knows? I certainly haven’t found any hard and fast rules related to kids and medication.
Well, okay. One Rule: Do not accidentally drop a child’s medicine in the drinking fountain drain. You will not get it back, and will have to fill out an embarrassing waste report. ie: 1 dose of medication accidentally wasted into drinking fountain. Witnessed by Guffawing/Cackling/Teasing-Favorite-Secretary.
Another quote:
Little girl with pinpoint scratch to tip of finger (on why she wants me to call her dad): “Well, my dad said that sometimes, when I get hurt really bad, and it’s really deep, he um, he wants me to call him so that it doesn’t get infected. You know, cause it’s really deep. And I got hurt really bad. And I fell.”
Love it.
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>One of the kindergarten associates (classroom assistants) was telling the whole class about how the Police are good, that they are here to keep us safe, and how when you need help, you can call them. A little boy’s hand shoots up in the back. “Mrs. Garcia, you’re wrong. The police are NOT good. One time my dad and the police were in a race, and he beat them. The police were mad that my dad was faster, so they took him out of the car and put things on his hands, and took him away cause they lost.”
How’s that for spin?
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Kid: hey! You left your halloween skeleton up!
Me: yep.
Kid: … he’s wearing a hat! [tilts head to the side like a confounded puppy]
Me: uh, YEAH! He’s a Pilgrim. Pilgrims wear hats. Everybody knows that pilgrims wear hats! What are they teaching you in class?!
Kid: o_0
Why is this funny? IS this funny? I may not know the answer to these questions, but I do know this:
Santa Bones is coming to town!
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This is one of those things we try to let slide. But ever since this was pointed out to me by my favorite secretary (all she had to say was, “watch for the special turkey”), I can’t walk by without noticing his big pink marshmallows.
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My favorite 4th grader, self-nicknamed Superman, has a new topic of conversation for every visit. This is made even more impressive by the huge number of visits he makes weekly. I usually see him twice a day; once in the morning and again after lunch.
He may turn mundane into fascinating:
Superman [SM]: you have freckles.
Me: do not.
Superman: yes. I see them.
(This continues for a few minutes with me insisting that he’s crazy and I do NOT have freckles. )
He then takes a completely serious face and says,”it’s okay. You shouldn’t be ashamed. Freckles aren’t embarrassing. “
At this point we’re both laughing. He then stops abruptly, looks me dead in the eye and says, “this is not a laughing matter.” He turns on his heel and walks right out the door.
He may discuss his current illness:
SM: Maaaannnnn. My voice sounds really weird. Can you hear it? It sounds so weeeiiiiiirrrrrddd… like when you’re holding a walkie talkie? And the batteries are dead? And you know it makes that sound? That buzzing sound? Like static?
The above was then followed by a fairly accurate imitation of “walkie talkie static” that he managed to hold for approximately 14minutes. I don’t know. Maybe only a few seconds but it was one of those “need more coffee” days.
He may also ask me for whatever I happen to be eating. Almost invariably, it’s some form of chocolate. This continued up til the day he wanted my tea.
SM: Duuuude, what are you drinking? Is that hot chocolate? I want some hot chocolate. Can I have some?
Me: It’s tea. It’s delicious, and no, you can’t have some. Here. Smell (this is where I went wrong).
SM: [taking a whiff and scrunching his nose up] That smells like racoon poop!
Me: [asking the only obvious question at this point] How the heck do you know what raccoon poop smells like? Do you keep some in your pocket?!
Our conversations are almost always a different topic, and range in length from a simple few-word exchange to more than 5minutes of one-upping, teasing, or totally random statements strung together in a pseudo-coherent fashion. Regardless, I can say that he always gets me thinking. Really, what DOES raccoon poop smell like?
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>They say: I feel like a shark is biting me in the stomach
Translation: I’m hungry. I will eat all your backup teddy grahams, then stand up and shake all the crumbs onto the floor. That’s how I roll.
They say: Someone call my grandma!! I think THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!!!
Translation: I was running outside and collided with the large, hard skull of the student in front of me. There is a small drop of blood of unknown origin on this tissue. I think I can smell my own brain, but really, it’s a smear of chili on my shirt from lunch. Chili is my favorite lunch. What are we having for lunch tomorrow?
They say: [while blubbering. snot bubbles have formed and are growing dangerously close to the upper lip] THEREWASTHISBOY! ANDHEWASCHASINGMEANDMYFRIENDTRIEDTOHELPMEBUTHEPUSHEDMEANDIFELL!!!!
Translation: There was this boy. I was chasing him and he turned around and pushed me and I fell.
More to come as I navigate this new and confounding language.
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