Ebjournal Revisited.

Clean up in Aisle Five…

WARNING:

The following story is NOT for people who are disgusted by potty humor. So, again, you have been warned.

Yesterday, as I was attempting to teach a lesson on phonics, and making connections in your schema, one of my fine young gentlemen got up and headed for the door. Unperturbed, because students are allowed to use the restroom as necessary, I paid him no heed.

Oh, the heed I should have paid. He made it to the back table, where the linoleum starts, and then, because I wasn’t watching, all I heard was splash. You know, the throwing-out-the-last-bit-of-water-out-of-the-bucket-splash.

Of COURSE that just happened.

And then I know. We’ve got a puker. I did not panic. I said, “It’s okay, _____. Are you done? Go to the bathroom and make sure.” He got two more steps, but because he is in many ways smarter than me, took a detour for the garbage can. Not even the recycling can, which was taller, and closer, but the garbage can. Now THAT’S presence of mind, let me tell you. A few more throat spasms and spit, and I told him to head to the bathroom to rinse off (he’s wearing it now, too. ) I move to the phone by my desk (one of those “perks“– having a phone in the classroom) and call the office. All I have to say, LITERALLY, was “Clean up in Aisle Five.” She responded, “Okay, we’ll send Mr. Steve down.” People, that’s service. In case you’re wondering, no, I do not have a stomach of steel, but the thought of me throwing up because I saw my little cherub doing it would have ruined my chances with this class for the rest of the year. And bless them, the kids did not break out in a riot. They did not start yelling out “Gross, ewww, cool!” or anything like that. They stayed focused. So maybe they are starting to come around.

Then the smell hit them, and they had to plug their noses, and I had to attempt to teach the lesson to keep their minds off of the Jackson Pollack on my linoleum. I open the window, and now that fall’s arrived, and it’s 9:30am, it’s cold. So, I can’t win. Mr. Steve arrives a few minutes later, and starts the cleanup process. Because of bodily fluid regulations, it’s a very involved process. First comes the bleach and mop, then the lysol disinfectant for the chairs and counter the path of destruction laid waste to, and the finally, the vacuum. Not the regular, but the full-blown, shampooing, industrial jet-engine cleaner. We share a grin, and I tell him, “Go ahead. Ladies and gentlemen, can you ignore Mr. Steve?”

YEEEEEEESSSSS.

“Ok, then pay no attention to the shrieking you are about to hear.” And then it was loud for the next ten minutes as we went through the first chunk-sucking process, then the shampooing, then the rinsing. The kids tried hard, but for some reason, THEY DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. Could it have been:

a) The trauma of seeing a well-liked classmate turn into a volcano, spewing volatile chunks everywhere?

b) The aftermath stench? (A little like over-cooked Cheetos)

c) The freezing toes and shivering arms from opening the windows to combat b)?

OR

d) The DC-10 of a vacuum landing in the back of our room?

So, I was a little frustrated, and since Lucky Me! it was new material and a new concept, I had to go over it again. Eventually, we got back on track, and the students did fine, but it was definitely touch-and-go for a minute there.

And then, I kid you not, we got to go take a standardized test in the computer lab. For forty-five minutes. (In case you’re wondering, that’s a long time for your average 7.4 year old.) The students had never taken this particular test. I’m guessing their mindset wasn’t especially locked-in, but I digress.

So THAT, ladies and gentle peeps, was my Friday.

Again, though, props to most of those kids for sticking through that. Most adults would have been throwing a hissy fit. The cherubs won me over a lot with their performance.

When I need more material, I’ll tell you an even worse potty humor story. Stay tuned!

RSS Trackback URL 1. October 2005 (08:57)
Filed under: General, School Daze